The Third Pillar: Salty
Recipe: Salted Bread with Herb Butter
“A dish of simplicity, yet its true potential is revealed with just a pinch of salt. Salted bread—common, unassuming, but with the right touch, it becomes a comforting companion to any meal.
This recipe begins with humble ingredients, but salt is the key that transforms it. Without salt, the bread is just bread—nourishing, but bland. But with salt, each bite carries a richness, a depth that lingers on the palate.
It is the salt that enhances the flavor of the bread, much like a steady presence that elevates those around it. A subtle yet essential addition, turning the ordinary taste into something worth having. This bread may be simple, but its strength lies in its versatility, the way it adapts and complements whatever it’s paired with.
Just as a warrior cannot stand alone, bread without salt lacks heart. It’s the touch of salt that makes the difference, that brings out the flavor within and reminds us of the value of small, unassuming things that hold everything together.
This dish is for those who understand that sometimes, the simplest things can make the greatest impact. A tribute to those who add just the right touch, making everyone around them better, stronger, and more complete.”
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As I read through the description of the Salted bread, the words began to take on a new meaning, aligning perfectly with Arlo’s role.
The simple ingredients, brought to life with just the right amount of salt, seemed to mirror the way Arlo had fit into our group—a humble addition, but one that made everything better.
Arlo had been a street rat, much like Lila, someone I’d crossed paths with during one of my early delves when I saved him from a monster attack.
It was a chance encounter, but unlike my dealings with adventurers, this time, the threat came from monsters.
After that encounter, he kept trailing after me, insisting he owed me a debt.
I hadn’t intended to let him join the party—hell, I knew all too well how underwhelming street rats' abilities usually were—but when he informed me of his skill, I realized I’d been wrong.
Even the most unassuming skills can shine when paired with the right combination, just like the perfect pinch of salt brings out the best in a simple buttered bread.
Arlo’s skill was called Seasoned Edge. It fit perfectly with my playstyle.
The buff didn’t make me tougher or help me recover; instead, it sharpened my strikes, increasing my critical hit chance when it mattered most.
It was the perfect complement to my style—unpredictable, like a sudden burst of strength.
With Seasoned Edge, it felt like Arlo was bringing out my character's true potential, just like salt enhances the flavors in a dish.
https://i.imgur.com/4FLB7Nm.png [https://i.imgur.com/4FLB7Nm.png]
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[Seasoned Edge]
[Seasoned Edge enhances a weapon’s critical strike chance, significantly boosting its ability to land critical hits. This buff temporarily sharpens the weapon’s edge, making it more precise and effective at striking vital points, resulting in increased damage. The effect lasts for a short duration, offering a powerful but brief surge in combat performance.]
[Usage: Primarily used to increase critical hit chances in combat, ideal for boosting damage output against tougher enemies.]
He didn't mend or complimented my healing capacity like Jasmine, but he made my attacks feel sharper, more precise, and deadly—adding that extra bite when I needed it most.
It was a simple skill, yet indispensable, just like Elora physical defense reduction.
Thinking back, it wasn’t just Arlo’s skill that made him memorable—it was how he communicated, how he brought the game to life in a way that no other character could.
Back on earth when the game was just a game to me, each character had their own speech-to-text mechanic, a feature that allowed NPCs to “talk” during gameplay.
It wasn’t like other games where characters just grunted or delivered a few basic lines—this game had a full chat UI that appeared in the bottom left corner of the screen, displaying every word the NPCs spoke.
And Arlo? He was the highlight of that chat box.
Whenever he opened his mouth, it was like the whole tone of the game shifted.
Even when things got serious, when we were down in some dark dungeon or facing off against a monstrous enemy, Arlo always had something ridiculous or witty to say.
It was almost like he didn’t care if he was in the middle of a life-or-death situation—he’d find a way to crack a joke.
I remember seeing his lines pop up during battles, right there in the chat UI, like:
[Arlo]: “Why don’t monsters ever take a coffee break, huh? They’re relentless!”
[Arlo]: “Hey, Val, don’t you think this gig of yours could use some more flare? You know, less rage, more... style?”
[Arlo]: “Jasmine, can’t you just pray this guy away? No? Alright, back to the stabbing then.”
The interactions between Arlo and the rest of the party were pure gold.
Jasmine would try to maintain her calm, saintly demeanor, but you could see the moments where even she couldn’t help but laugh at his comments.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that having a character like Arlo made the entire playthrough so much more enjoyable.
His lines turned tense dungeon runs into something that felt more like an adventure with friends.
So, as I stood there in the dusty, poorly lit section of the library, holding this recipe book that seemed to hide the story of my old party, I couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of Arlo’s endless quips.
If Sour was Elora, then Sweet was definitely Jasmine, and Salty... that was Arlo through and through.
He was more than just a buffer; he was the salt that brought out the best in all of us.
And now, seeing this recipe for Salted bread, it felt like a tribute to the liveliness he brought to our group.
I closed the book for a moment, letting the memories wash over me.
It was strange, almost surreal, to be piecing together these hidden stories from a simple recipe book.
Part of me wished I could see them again—Elora, Jasmine, and Arlo—not just through the fragments left behind from their tales, but in person.
If they were here in this dungeon with me, I wondered what they would say, how they would react to my current self.
What jokes would Arlo make about my Summon Slime skill? How would Jasmine's serene presence feel knowing that I was Valerian? Would Elora still be as fierce and determined as I remembered?
But I knew better. A century had passed since the events of the 100th floor, and even with the mysteries of this game-like world, it was doubtful that any of them had managed to survive for that long.
Time moves on, even when we wish it would stop.
With a deep breath, I opened the book once more, turning the page.
I knew who the next flavor would be—bitter was a taste I knew all too well. And I knew exactly who it was meant for.
"Cyrus," I whispered under my breath, bracing myself for whatever story this next chapter would reveal.
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The Fourth Pillar: Bitter
Recipe: Charred Blood Orange Tart