Sounds of humming filled the air as all manner of kitchen equipment were put to use. Occasionally, a door would appear out of nowhere for him to open and grab ingredients from, but it was with incredible efficiency that he did so. Not once did the production of food ever stop or even slow down.

Deciding that his magical stirring could handle things for a while, he wandered out of the kitchen and took a seat on the couch.

It had been some time since Chef moved into the father’s old house. He had never been especially good at keeping track of the time, but he’d put even less stock into that lately. He’d still go to his old cave every few days to lay out bait and collect fresh meat, but otherwise he was usually in town.

There was no getting around how much easier everything became when he moved here. He had a properly built kiln now for one. In fact, he had several, having copied the design and built two more right next to it. So that was nice.

The mill had turned into decoration by now since Chef could do all of the grinding he needed wherever and whenever. These days there were several sacks of flour in his pantry at all times.

He’d also discovered that, despite knowing the name for it, a complex ingredient like butter couldn’t be summoned. Probably because he’d never seen or tasted it before. That sucked.

But more than anything it just hammered home a point that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

“I’m bored.”

Despite all his skills and numbers, he hadn’t made a meal more satisfying than the pies he and Therace baked together so long ago. He’d been productive in his own way of course, but there was no getting around the dissatisfaction creeping to the forefront of his mind.

He was Chef. He was a goblin who cooked. That’s all there was to it. If he wasn’t making new and delicious foods, then what was he doing?!

A sigh squeezed out of the goblin as he sank into the couch.

“What now?”

Chef knew the answer to that; but, like usual, he didn’t want to acknowledge it. After all, this was the same situation he was in back when his clan up and died on him. As a matter of fact, these circumstances weren’t entirely foreign for him. Truly, the reasons why this kept happening to him were a mystery that would haunt the greatest investigators.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Another sigh came out as the goblin sank further into the couch, now lying entirely horizontal with his head pushing into the back of his “seat.” He didn’t look terribly happy. He also didn’t cut the most frightening image despite having the Mass Murderer, Monster, and Demon titles.

It was time for action. Time to get out of this rut. Time to stop spending fifty percent of each day lying on a couch.

One more exasperated sigh oozed out from between his lips, slower and more defeated than those before it. With great effort, the goblin was excavated from his mold in the couch. Next came the hard part.

“What am I supposed to leave behind?”

He knew he had to leave. That wasn’t exactly the hardest conclusion to come to despite the fact that at least a couple months had passed since he moved here. The issue was the sheer amount of stuff that he’d accrued over those months.

He couldn’t exactly pack the oven. Did he need to bring meat and vegetables though? What about flour? In theory, he could make it himself now. Indeed, most of the grain the villagers had grown was already taking up permanent residence with Chief and Therace.

Ignoring the sentimentality of the stuff, it wasn’t particularly more valuable than cheese. Actually, cheese was the harder one to make out of the two.

Alright so nothing I can summon. That doesn’t leave too much then.

The Great Pantry lived up to its name. Two cauldrons, two pots, four pans, some human gear, the powdered and baked limestone, and enough bricks to make a good-sized oven could all fit comfortably inside with room to spare. There was even still room for some ceramic jugs, sacks of wild harvested vegetables, and some cheese though he could summon all of those now too.

No point in wasting the space.

He added in a few empty sacks and a couple filled with flour as well, preparing for the journey. Now he just had to do some cleaning up before he left and then he’d be ready to go.

Of course, cooking up everything he was planning to leave behind was just good sense, so he ended up being delayed another day.

“Alright, village. You behave while I’m gone.”

The village didn’t respond, presumably because it had no intentions of behaving. Chef could think of no other reason. Considering his experiences here, he shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, the village had sent several armed and dangerous humans after him. It could be quite mischievous.

He then looked in the direction the three spooky humans didn’t come from and started walking.

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Titles:

Reincarnator: you have lived and died before. Past experience more easily contributes to class evolutions, skill growth, and trait acquisition.

Mass murderer: you have killed many who were utterly defenseless. The blood of the innocent is on your hands.