Laen pointed towards the ground and Cecillia prodded Blackie to follow the boy. She raised an arched brow as her eyes set upon the dirt, blinking twice and seeing several meter-long tracks gouged into the ground. Laen traced a finger over the scene while Cecillia noted that they continued far into the distance. There was nothing she could think of that could even come close to the size of producing such markings except the Lesser Aohr. The issue there was that the tracks weren’t matching at all.
“It’s moving kinda close to the camp,” Laen said and turned back to Cecillia. “What do you think we should do?”
Cecillia thought about the question and placed a finger to her pursed lips. This creature would almost certainly be a danger, and if she had the luxury of having her MK IV Valkyrie suit, it wouldn’t be an issue to hunt the thing down. Yet now, such power had to be gained through the warrior’s rite of combat.
“Let’s head back to the camp, we’re running out of supplies,” Cecillia answered. “They’ll be stopping for the night and I… I have to cook…”
“Oh come on, you don’t think we can kill it?” Laen asked with a playful roll of his eyes. “I know you saw that new skill I learned. It’ll be ea— ”
“No,” she said flatly.
Without hearing the boy’s protests, she held the map in front of her and brought Blackie to a decently paced jog.
“Hey! Wait up!”
Cecillia pretended not to hear the boy and made herself comfortable on the wolf. It wasn’t long until they reached the valley’s edge, and the boy came up behind her just thirty seconds later. His eyes drooped and his face was red. The breaths left his lungs in heaving gasps, and as he recovered, he glared at the ever so indifferent Cecillia.
“...What are you looking at?”
Cecillia tilted her head. “What?”
“Nevermind,” Laen muttered. “Let’s just go.”
The girl nodded and they started skirting around the cliff’s edge. They quickly found a path leading down, and the image of the camp settling down soon entered their sights. Arthur was once again at the makeshift perimeter, although this time with a group of friends it seemed.
“Hey Arthur!” Laen called.
The youth turned towards the two approaching figures and his hand almost shot for his blade. But when he saw that it was only them, he waved a hand. The rest of the group also glanced their ways, their eyes lingering on Cecillia’s face for a second longer than she’d liked. Although, a quick growl from Blackie was enough to send their eyes to the sky.
“What’s up Laen, Cecillia,” Arthur waved. “You guys had a good hunt?”
“It was alright,” Laen started, but his smile vanished. “There were alot of monsters, but nothing fun happened. They were all under level twenty.”
“Oh really?” Arthur laughed, turning towards Cecillia as she nodded. “Well I’m a little embarrassed myself. I’m barely at level twenty and you’re out here talking about all these boring monsters like its nothing. Can y’all believe it guys,” Arthur spread his arms, “I’m out here losing to a kiddo, in both ways!”
“I’m not a kid!”
“Ah whatever kid,” Arthur smiled. “Go rest up, leave it to the big bros to protect the camp.”
Laen rolled his eyes, but returned the gesture. “Thanks Arthur, good luck in the cold.”
“Anytime,” Arthur nodded and the boy waltzed in. Cecillia followed as Blackie carried her in, but the youth soon stopped her as she was about to pass.
“Hold up Cecillia,” Arthur stammered as she turned to face him. “Sorry… Is there any chance y-you want to hang out for dinner?”
Cecillia’s head hung and the atmosphere around her body grew shivery. It wasn't the first time the youth had asked her that question, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But after hearing that word, it was like winter had descended. The man’s friends held their breaths as a brittle chill was sent down their spines. There was no response given to the red faced Arthur as Cecillia wordlessly trudged Blackie along. In the end, pats and comforting words were left behind and the man faced the skies with a heavy sigh.
Laen waited for her just up ahead and joined her as they went through the camp.
“I’m going to tell my dad about those tracks. Maybe he’ll know what to do,” Laen said. “Good luck with your cooking.”
“...Thanks,” Cecillia replied. She waved as the boy left, and even Blackie shared in her misery as a soft whine left its jaws.
“Oh shut up.”
A scowl made its way onto her rosy lips, but as they arrived before the tent, her face blanched. Cecillia slid off the wolf and stared at the entrance. The tiny gap was like an endless abyss, inviting with whispers of a tempting death. She didn’t even notice as her two pets slinked away, leaving her behind to sink in her own troubles. And as she finally glanced around, her eyes went vacant with defeat.
With no other option left, Cecillia made her way into the large tent. Inside, the first thing that popped out at her was the intense aroma that slammed into her being. Spices wafted off a velvety tomato sauce, fragrant meats with caramelized onions filled the air with mouth-watering desire. Cecillia’s stomach growled, yet that only added to her hopelessness, knowing that the only way her cooking could elicit such a reaction was if such a person was starving.
Though as her eyes wandered, they soon found themselves frozen against a pair of feverish eyes that were alike the coals of a burning flame.
“So you have come, wolf girl,” Chef Diana boomed.
Cecillia forced herself to maintain eye contact as her knuckles were strained white. Such a being could only be considered a boss monster, with the fitting moniker of The Insatiable One.
“Don’t call me that,” Cecillia said.
“In my kitchen, I’ll call you what I want,” The Chef said and turned. “There shall be no more delays. Come and prove yourself worthy of the apron.”
Cecillia hesitantly fell into step behind Diana as the other cooks scattered. Her eyes darted over the steaming stoves as they moved towards the far end of the tent.
“Look carefully,” Chef Diana said. “I will show you the true essence of cooking, but only once. If you can’t do that, I suggest you get the hell out of my kitchen.”
Cecillia swallowed hard, and nodded.
“Good,” The chef barked, grabbing a fresh onion and spinning a razor-sharp blade into her hand. She slammed the onion down, the blade gleaming in the torchlight dangerously. “The first step of cooking is to have a sharp knife. Always sharp, and never any less. Without one, you won’t survive in this world.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Cecillia watched intently as the chef’s fingers were set against the onion. The knife was held tightly and she could see the rippling muscles of Diana’s forearm. It was eerily similar to how a soldier would wield a blade when dealing with an execution. As the knife glided down, the enzymes had no effect on the chef as the onion was cut into paper-thin slices in less than a second.
“Your knife is your weapon,” Chef Diana continued. “And in this kitchen, every dish is a battle.”
The large woman flicked the slices of onion into a nearby pan and a flame roared into existence.
“Make the fires kneel to your command.”
The heat felt warm against Cecillia’s skin due to her resistance, but the Chef was practically swimming in the fire. Even her cloth apron was immune to the flames as the embers were further stoked. And as a fiery aura burst around her being, Cecillia was mesmerized.
***
The kitchen was alive with the crackle of flames, and the hiss of sizzling pans. A rich aroma of roasting meat and vegetables that could only be described as perfection filled the tent. Steam wafted from the edge of the pan, drifting over onto coal powered stoves as the heat became suffocating. Yet, Chef Diana existed as the one and only authority. This tent of a kitchen was her dominion, and all that came to pass was under her law. No oil would splatter without her acknowledgement, and if it ever did, judgment was swift and merciless.
Cecillia stood to the side. Her palms were sweaty, knees were weak, and arms almost heavy. She didn’t know how to feel as she watched the Chef’s performance. However, one thing was certain, and that was the fact that the blank demeanor she always wore was missing.
Her eyes were widened, not in shock, but in admiration as her eyes laid upon the evening’s centerpiece. An imposing slab of meat, its surface charred to flawlessness still juicy and dripping with flavor. The onions were then spooned onto the steak, the deep, caramelized sweetness melding with the smoking meat. And as a final touch, a sheen of flaming alcohol.
“This,” The Chef said. “Is the soul of cooking.”
Cecillia brought her eyes to the chef’s face and took a deep breath. To see such a feat like this, it was like witnessing the pinnacle of culinary prowess. Yet those eyes that stared back at her, they were now goading, it was time.
The Chef stepped back, leaving the dish on the table.
“Now,” she pushed an apron into Cecillia’s hands. “It’s your turn.”
Cecillia stared down at the apron and her vision suddenly went dizzy. The heat was becoming nauseating and with the sounds of the hot kitchen hammering against her head, she couldn’t think straight. Although, as if by instinct she threw on the white apron, tying it against her waist as she stumbled over to the cutting board. A steak lay on the wood with the necessary ingredients within arms reach.
Clenching her jaw, Cecillia’s lids closed over her eyes as she took a deep breath. Once she opened them, everything became clear. Time seemed to slow as her perception spiked and her figure became a blur.
‘The first step of cooking is to have a sharp knife.’
Her hand shot for the blade, fingers wrapping around its length tightly.
‘Your knife is your weapon.’
A murderous gleam emerged within her blue orbs and she found herself before countless enemies. Each one stood against her tauntingly, but to one that had never known defeat…
‘In this kitchen, every dish is a battle.’
Cecillia’s figure blurred as her dagger pierced into flesh. Precise cuts tore through tendons and fat as the blade struck against wood. Crimson juices leaked and painted the world not with savagery, but with flavorful succulency. Then, onions and garlic screamed as they were ground into a paste. The strongest soldier of earth resembling a demon as the ashes of paprika and pepper were formed into a mix.
‘Make the fires kneel to your command.’
The reaper of death glanced down at her enemies, without emotion, without mercy and the flames of hell’s retribution roared from the abyss. A blast of flame erupted from the stove and the oil cracked like the thundering storms. Smoke plumed into her face, and the acrid fumes caused her lungs to burn.
[Warning: External temperatures have reached critical levels. Heat threshold exceeded.]
[Congratulations! Heat resistance is now level 2!]
[Congratulations! Heat resistance is now level 3!]
Still, it wasn’t enough.
[Activating Job Skill: Sizzle Lvl. 1]
The orange flames were stoked as a wave of energy was released from her being. Cecillia released a sudden gasp as her feet drove into the ground to stay upright. She could see the abyssal fires beneath the stove slowly turning a pale white as the heat intensified beyond anything she had ever experienced. Though, the time when her suit’s reactor had imploded did come close.
Sweat dripped from her forehead as the steak was thrown into the pan. Instantly, oil crackled as the steak made contact with the cast iron. Delectable juices were released from the meat, filling the air with a rich aroma that was further escalated by the spice mix.
Cecillia’s eyes burned while her heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the chef’s gaze ripping into her back, tearing her apart from within to reveal her deepest flaws. Yet she bit back a curse and steeled her being. Spite was the only thing that had brought her here,but for once, she was beginning to understand.
The soul of cooking.
[Activating Job Skill: Sizzle Lvl. 1]
[Congratulations! Sizzle has reached level 2!]
The flames exploded as the coals turned a gleaming molten red. Cecillia’s lungs howled as she struggled to take in oxygen, the breathable air being consumed by the ravenous white fire. Her chest heaved as a bead of sweat dripped into an eye, yet the hand with the tongs never shook. The flames singed her flesh, burning through the apron as the sun itself laid claim to her world.
Seconds passed, each one feeling like eternity as the steak hissed against the violet coals. Her entire body screamed at her to run, to leave the battlefield and surrender. The rumbling cannonfire in her head didn’t help either. The pristine clarity she once had was being muddled down, buried beneath anxiety, fear, and desperation.
Weak.
Cecillia’s eyes went bloodshot as a hoarse laugh escaped her throat, unheard to no one under the howling flames. She lost vision in her left eye, but her hand flipped the steak. The underside was perfectly blackened, the edges crisp with a golden crust. Juices shimmered before instantly transfiguring into steam, and it was at that exact moment that her soul ignited.
A pricking pain emerged in Cecillia’s heart before the world surged. Her one eye’s remaining vision swam and her body trembled. The feeling in her body was lost, the frantic sounds of the kitchen dissipating and fading into a distant hum.
Waves gently crashed and a girl stirred. With black hair, blue eyes, she was perfect in every way. No one could refute it as she would be forevermore, unhindered by death and time. She tasted the sand and just this once, it wasn’t empty…
Cecillia stepped back as she looked down at the steak. Perfectly seared, charred on the outside, tender on the inside, with a smoked scent that was enriched with the garlic and onions. She wore a small smile on her face as heavy footsteps broke through the silence, echoing with each stomp.
Chef Diana loomed over her dainty frame with crossed arms. The woman’s face was impossible to read as her piercing eyes inspected every inch of her dish.
Cecillia held her breath instinctively. All the fears that were contained within her mind were brought to its climax at this very moment. Cecillia watched as the chef bent over, and brought a delicate cut to her monstrous lips. Her heart thumped in her chest, the sound beating in her head like a raucous drum as every second dragged.
Gordon and Olivia both watched with wide eyes, their hands tightly clenched as the rest of the cooks also waited for the final verdict. The woman had even unknowingly crushed the apple within her hand.
Minutes passed as the chef’s grip on the atmosphere was never once released. Cecillia had started to feel defeat drawing closer when Diana had finally placed the last cut into her mouth. Her shoulders sunk, and her eyes grew vacant, but a clear voice caused her head to snap upwards.
“Delicious.”
Cecillia wasn’t sure if she heard right and her face was blank as she remained motionless, simply staring at the gorilla of a woman.
Although, she did blink as Diana reached behind her neck and removed her own apron. Without a word, the chef used just two fingers to tie the silky band around the girl’s neck.
Cecillia’s breath hitched in her throat, being this close to the chef felt wrong. A heavy stench rose from the woman’s skin, and the breathing was more like an ogre than anything. Yet as Diana took a step back, lowering her head until they were level, the woman looked directly into Cecillia’s eyes.
“Cecillia,” Chef Diana Ramsayer grinned, “It’s delicious.”
As she stared into those jaws with rows of yellowing teeth, Cecillia couldn’t reply. Even if she tried to find the words to say, the kitchen had already burst into a roar of excited cheers. Looking at the scene, her mind felt numb. Perhaps it was a side effect of the burning flames, but a warm feeling spread into her stomach.
That feeling… was greater than any victory.