CHAPTER 259: GRAK INTEREST (1)

Everything went exactly as planned. The following days were filled with activity, and soon the Canteen returned to the Normat sector.

This time, it wasn’t a food truck; it was a mobile classroom. Mara, with Nyra acting as a translator and an assistant, held the first of the cooking orientations.

The Normat were, at first, clumsy and confused. The concept of "boiling water" was foreign; the idea of "roasting" a potato was an art they had never seen. But they were a desperate and intelligent people. They learned fast.

Within a single week, the entire Normat sector had transformed.

The new trade route was established. Mex, now the official "Chief Logistics Runner" for AD Innovations, organized his people into an efficient distribution network.

They would buy the raw, mana-rich produce in bulk from the Genesis Garden, using the collective credits of their people. They then distributed the food to individual households.

Adrian had sold the Heaters and Coolers at a price of 30 credits each. It was a steal, a price so low it was practically a gift, especially considering how cheap he sold the raw crops.

The Normat, having pooled their family and community capital, bought them with a desperate eagerness.

Not everyone was able to purchase the new tools initially, and many families had to share a single Heater, but the desire for self-sufficiency was a powerful motivator.

Eventually, most of the Normat households had access to the tools they needed to reclaim their own lives.

Within just two weeks, the change was undeniable. The silent, grey, and listless Normat sector was now alive. The air, once sterile and smelling only of ozone, was now filled with the rich, complex, and wonderful aromas of a thousand different meals: roasting garlic, baking bread, simmering stews.

The Normat themselves looked healthier. Their pale blue skin had a more vibrant hue, and their movements, already fast, were now filled with a new, vigorous energy.

The "deadness" that came from the Nutritional Packs was being actively purged from their systems, one delicious meal at a time.

It was no surprise that this transformation did not go unnoticed.

In the grimy sector of the Grak, a hulking, reptilian warrior named Grok brought his massive, armored fist down on a metal table.

~CLANG!~

"It’s the smell!" he roared, his voice a guttural growl. "I can’t stand it! What is that... that delicious smell? It’s been plaguing my patrols for a week! And it’s coming from the Humanoid sector!"

His second-in-command, a smaller, leaner Grak, shrugged. "Who cares? It’s just the blue-skins. Probably found a new type of chemical spice to add to their paste."

"No!" Grok snarled, his reptilian eyes narrowed. "This is different. It smells... strong. It smells like... life. Like the beasts of the homeworld we were promised."

The Grak, a race that was meant to evolve by consuming powerful beasts, were the ones who suffered most from the bland, "dead" food of the Nexus.

Their entire biology was in a state of forced stagnation, a deep, primal hunger that left them irritable and weak. That new, intoxicating smell was driving their dormant instincts insane.

"I’m going to find the source," Grok declared, grabbing his massive, spiked maul. "And if the blue-skins are hoarding something from us, I will take it."

He gathered his patrol, three other massive Grak warriors, and they marched out of their sector, their heavy, armored footsteps echoing through the slum’s metallic corridors.

They followed the scent, a trail of pure, delicious life that led them directly to the border of the Normat sector.

They arrived just in time to see a familiar, lanky, blue-skinned figure pushing a large, covered cart on the streets. It was Mex.

"You," Grok growled, his patrol fanning out to block the Runner’s path. "What is in the cart?"

Mex froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He was face to face with Grok the Crusher, the most feared and undefeated champion of the Galactic Clash fighting pits.

"J-just... just a delivery, Lord Grok," he stammered, his newfound confidence evaporating in the face of the massive, reptilian brute.

"Open it."

Mex hesitated, but one look at the Grak’s four-armed, impatient posture was all the convincing he needed. He quickly pulled the tarp off the cart, revealing what was inside: dozens of bags filled with bread. Freshly baked bread!

Grok’s eyes widened. He had never seen food like this. It wasn’t the grey paste they were used to.

This was... real. He leaned in, sniffing the air, his reptilian nostrils flaring. His dormant, evolutionary instincts screamed at him. ’This is power. This is strength. Consume it.’

He reached in and, to Mex’s horror, grabbed a single, large bread. He inspected it, sniffed it, and then, with a horrifying ~CRUNCH!~, he bit directly into it.

A jolt, like a lightning strike, shot through his entire body. His reptilian eyes went wide. He felt the pure, unadulterated life essence, the mana, explode into his system.

He felt his muscles twitch and respond. He felt a spark of the primal strength he had lost when his people were brought to this place. It was the most incredible thing he had ever felt.

He stared at the half-eaten bread in his hand, then at the terrified, trembling Normat. His voice was no longer a shout, but a low, dangerous, and desperate growl.

"...Where. Did. You. Get. This?"

Mex, terrified but also seeing the opportunity Papa Perez had spoken of, pointed a finger towards the Sparkborns’ sector. "Them. They’re the Sparkborns and their leader is named Adrian."

Grok didn’t say another word. He dropped the bread, turned to his patrol, and gave a single, curt nod. Their mission was no longer a casual patrol.

They were on a hunt, not for a rival, but for the source of this new, miraculous power.

Back in his house, Adrian was analyzing a Galactic Clash match when his PAD chimed with an urgent, incoming call from Charles.

"Boss... we’ve got company. A delegation of Grak just arrived at the main gate. They’re heavily armed. And they’re asking for you... by name."