Ainz Ooal Gown: Noble Knight

"That chef has a [natural ability]. He can make subhuman meat taste like human. Amazing, right?"

Dasha's pupils suddenly contracted.

He recalled the chunks of meat and broth he had just eaten; every bite was the finest delicacy he could remember. But that meat had actually been cut from the bodies of his own kind.

They were his uncles and aunts...

Dasha's stomach spasmed violently.

"Wow"

He bent over and vomited up everything he had just eaten.

Soup and bits of meat gushed from his throat, mixed with stomach acid, and spilled onto the dirty ground.

He vomited again and again until there was nothing left in his stomach, and he was still dry heaving.

The mother also bent down.

She braced herself on the ground, her mouth open, and vomit dripped down her chin.

More orcs began to vomit.

The sound of vomiting, cries, and curses rose and fell from the crowd.

The older women vomited the most; they knew from the beginning that something was wrong, but they were still forced to eat a few bites.

At that moment, those chunks of meat felt like burning embers in their stomachs, searing their souls.

Some orcs began to pound the ground, or crouch on the ground trembling with their heads in their hands.

Some orcs lunged at the fence, frantically shaking the wooden stakes, trying to break through.

But the fence remained completely still.

Gehrman stood outside the circle of people, watching the orcs weep and wail, his face filled with even greater pleasure.

He then looked at Dasha, who was vomiting in front of him, and the smile on his scarred face deepened.

"Kid, you can't even handle this?"

Upon hearing this, Dasha struggled to lift her head.

His eyes were bloodshot, and there was still gastric juice and bits of meat stuck to the corners of his mouth. His tiger-like eyes were bloodshot.

He looked at the "silver-white demon" in front of him, unable to do anything but stare intently at it.

Gehrman didn't look at him again.

He turned around and strode over to the grill.

The charcoal was still burning, and the food on the grill sizzled under the high temperature, with oil dripping into the fire and sparks flying.

Gehrman reached out, grasped the iron skewer piercing the food, and flipped it over forcefully.

Flip the food on the grill so that it faces the dassa.

"You little beast, don't you look familiar?"

Dasha's gaze fell on the ingredient.

It was the corpse of an orc.

The body was relatively intact, with all four limbs and torso still present, and the tiger stripes were clear and deep. The skin had been roasted to a golden brown, and fat was still dripping down, filling the air with the aroma of meat that had just made his mouth water.

But a section of his calf is missing.

The left leg was empty below the knee, and the cut was charred black by the charcoal fire, making it unrecognizable.

Dasha's gaze moved away from the missing calf and slowly upwards.

His pupils suddenly contracted.

That head.

Even though it had been roasted beyond recognition.

But Dasha still recognized him.

He is his father.

Dasha's lips parted, uttering a muffled murmur.

"no, do not want……"

But that familiar face made it impossible for him to deceive himself; it was his father.

“Don’t want it?” Gehrman repeated the word, as if savoring its taste. He grinned, revealing two rows of uneven teeth. “I told you, didn’t I? You’re eating the special treats I specially instructed you to prepare.”

He pointed with the iron skewer at the corpse on the grill that was missing half a leg.

"Your father gave you his whole leg; no one else gets this treatment."

Chapter 59 Purpose

Dasha's stomach clenched violently again as he recalled how he had wolfed down his food.

Dasha bent over and started vomiting again.

But there was nothing left in his stomach, and he could only keep gagging, with stomach acid rising from his throat and burning his esophagus.

The mother watched all this from the side, her eyes already dry of tears.

She reached out, wanting to touch Dasha's back to offer him some comfort, but her hand remained suspended in mid-air, unable to fall.

She didn't know what to say; she was afraid of hurting Dasha even more.

Gehrman cut a piece of meat off the grill, carried it on a skewer, and walked to the sand.

"Don't spit it out, it's a waste." He held the piece of meat to the sand's mouth. "Keep eating."

Dasha turned her head away, her lips tightly pressed together.

"Not going to eat?" Gehrman raised an eyebrow, speaking with the enthusiasm of someone entertaining an old friend. "That won't do. I've worked so hard to prepare these ingredients; if you don't eat them, you're not appreciating my efforts."

He pushed the piece of meat forward again, almost touching Dasha's lips.

Dasha gritted her teeth and refused to speak no matter what.

Gehrman's smile faded slightly.

He turned and walked toward Dasha's mother.

Gehrman drew his sword from his waist and gently placed the blade against his mother's neck.

The cold metallic touch penetrated her skin, causing her tiger-like eyes to narrow and her body to stiffen instinctively.

But she didn't beg for mercy; she just closed her eyes.

"Eat." Gehrman's voice came from behind Dasha, like a knife piercing his heart precisely. "Otherwise, the next ingredient will be her."

Dasha turned his head abruptly.

He saw his mother kneeling on the ground, with the long sword at her neck.

The mother's eyes were closed, her eyelashes trembled slightly, and her lips moved as she silently murmured something.

Dasha read those words aloud.

"Don't eat it."

But Dasha still turned her head away.

He took the piece of meat from Gehrman and put it in his mouth.

The meat melted on his tongue, still with that familiar rich and delicious flavor.

Dasha took a bite, but couldn't help spitting it out.

Chunks of meat and stomach acid gushed from his throat and fell to the ground.

He wiped his mouth, took another bite, and then spat it out.

The mother knelt on the ground, watching Dasha's pained expression.

Her fingers dug into the soil, her nails broke, and blood seeped from her fingertips.

She lunged forward, trying to let the sword slice through her throat.

But Gehrman was faster, pulling the blade back just before it pierced the skin.

"Want to die?" Gehrman's voice came from above, laced with undisguised mockery. "No way, I'm a kind man, I can't stand seeing death."

The mother's body went limp on the ground; she couldn't even cry anymore, she just stared in the direction of Dasha with her eyes open.

Dasha is still eating and still vomiting.

His body was trembling, and with each bite he swallowed, it felt as if a piece of his soul was shattering.

Finally, the piece of meat was finished.

Gehrman nodded in satisfaction.

He stood up, facing all the orcs in the circle, his voice heavy and suffocating.

"Remember this taste; this is the human flesh you love to eat."

His gaze swept over the faces of the orcs who were still vomiting, crying, and trembling.

"Remember your anger. The rage of the humans you have devoured will only intensify. Savor this pain."

He paused for a moment, then a cruel smile spread across his face.

"If you still want to eat human flesh, just tell me, and I'll let you eat your fill."

The orcs looked at the corpses of their companions on the grill, then glanced at their own greasy fingers.

They finally understood.

Those humans who are kept in captivity, treated as food, are no different from livestock.

They felt the same anger and despair when they were being eaten.

Gehrman didn't say anything more. He turned around and walked out of the circle.

Silence reigned in the crowd.