Karlov gingerly picked up the chipped bowl from the ground, treating it as if it were a priceless artifact.

  "Thank you, great chieftain. Your mercy is deeply appreciated."

  Having endured two days without a single drop of water, and having been battered by the searing heat of the Endless Desert and the goblin's poison, he had long since cast aside any semblance of propriety and dignity.

  He clearly understood that although his current standing was on par with that of the jackal guarding the gate, at least he no longer had to fear for his life or worry about where his next meal would come from.

  He knew that the ogre chieftain had recognized his talent for constructing shelters. As long as he remained useful, he wouldn't end up as food.

  Compared to those in the world channel who could die from thirst, hunger, cold, or heat at any moment, he now found himself with few desires...

  Well, except for one. He was still hungry and eager to eat.

  Fortunately, Gorgin hadn't forgotten about this.

  He casually jostled the bowl of broth in his hand, and a generous portion spilled out.

  Karlov quickly caught what he could with his own bowl, but a significant amount—at least ten times what he managed to save—splashed onto the sand, causing him to feel a twinge of regret.

  "Starting tomorrow, you're to sort out all the shacks in our tribe. Whether it's through repairs or rebuilding, I don't care. Here's what I want..."

  "I want this chaotic tribe to look a bit more presentable."

  "Understood?"

  Gorgin loomed over Karlov, laying out his next task.

  "I understand, powerful and benevolent lord. You can count on me to do an excellent job."

  Gorgin waved dismissively.

  "It's simple. Do well and you eat. Screw up and you're the meal. It's up to you."

  With that, Gorgin carried his food and walked away to eat.

  Karlov stood there, dumbfounded.

  "Look, another one's been left speechless by the great lord," the succubus remarked with a teasing lilt, then turned and headed back towards the House of Amorous Feelings.

  As she passed Karlov, she gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

  "Eat your meals, do your work, and don't get any funny ideas. You'll be safe here."

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  "At least... these ogres always keep their word."

  Karlov snapped out of his daze.

  "Thank you, miss. I get it!"

  The succubus burst out laughing at his address, and Karlov was momentarily transfixed.

  "We're not 'misses'. The important ones here are the ogres. That two - headed ogre mage is the chieftain's mother, and she's sharp. She's not as easy to deceive as the regular ogres. Watch your step."

  With that, the succubus made her way back to the House of Amorous Feelings.

  The other waitresses, having finished their meals, cast curious glances at Karlov before returning to their quarters.

  They still weren't sure if the chieftain would visit tonight, and they needed to be ready.

  Karlov found a quiet corner and cautiously took a sip of the broth in the chipped bowl.

  The meat had an unfamiliar, somewhat gamey smell and lacked any seasonings, but Karlov savored each mouthful as if it were a sumptuous feast.

  He held each sip in his mouth for a while, reluctant to waste a single drop, before finally swallowing.

  After two days of dehydration, this bowl of broth was a godsend.

  Although the broth didn't fully sate his hunger, for someone accustomed to life in the wild, it was sufficient.

  He crafted a small basket from desert thorns and carefully placed the chipped bowl inside for safekeeping.

  This bowl was his ticket to continued survival, a guarantee of food and water.

  As the succubus had said, the ogres were true to their word.

  When they saw Karlov, their eyes went straight to the bowl hanging by his side.

  Karlov crawled into the small house he'd built for himself during the day and lay down, finally feeling a sense of peace.

  He opened the world channel and typed:

  "I survived in the ogre tribe and was given a bowl of broth. I haven't had water in two days, and I'm truly grateful for this meal."

  Karlov's message set the world channel ablaze.

  "Damn!"

  "Dude, what tribe did you say you were in?"

  "You survived in an ogre tribe and got a bowl of broth? What an insane start! You lucky son of a gun!"

  "So what if I'm lucky? Did I steal your fries?"

  "This reminds me of that female college student who fell into the hands of human natives..."

  "She's probably been dried out by now..."

  "Boss, how did you pull this off? Any tips?"

  "Hey, can you spare some water? I'm dying of thirst."

  "Who are you kidding? 'Hey'? Call me 'dad'! I'll trade you a pistol with ammo for water. Deal?"

  Karlov smiled ruefully.

  As much as he wanted that pistol, he didn't have a drop of water to his name, let alone urine...

  He closed all the channels, ignoring the frantically blinking private message and trading channels, and shut his eyes.

  As an experienced wilderness survivalist, he knew he needed to rest and regain his strength, especially since he hadn't consumed much energy.

  Late at night, the temperature plummeted, and Karlov woke up shivering.

  He was glad that, in his effort to impress the powerful ogre chieftain during the day, he'd built his shelter with excellent insulation.

  He'd even dug a small pit for a bonfire and left a tiny hole in the roof for ventilation.

  Desert thorns, with their short growth cycle and rapid spread, were abundant in the Endless Desert and made perfect firewood.

  Karlov wrapped himself in his clothes and quietly slipped out of his house.

  He grabbed a bit of fire from the large bonfire in the center of the tribe and hurried back.

  A massive one - eyed ogre was sound asleep beside the bonfire, completely oblivious to Karlov's actions. However, the jackal at the tribe entrance opened its eerie, blue - tinged eyes and stared warily.

  It hadn't forgotten its duty to guard, even though the tribe had no proper gate.

  Once it recognized Karlov, it relaxed.

  The ogre chieftain had declared that this human had earned a temporary reprieve.

  After lighting the bonfire in his house, Karlov curled up and drifted off into a deep sleep.

  Vigilance was no longer a concern. Two days of intense stress had taken their toll.

  Let fate do its worst. If they wanted to kill him, so be it.

  Late into the night, the thunderous snores of the ogres echoed through the tribe, creating an odd sort of symphony.

  Suddenly, the jackal sleeping at the door shot up, raised its poisoned crossbow arrow, and began growling menacingly.