I don’t think ‘hut’ is quite the right word for this.

  The structure before them looked like a potter’s shack made of cobbled-together pnks and mud-brick. The roof sagged under the weight of what looked like hundreds of spoons tied together with twine that cnked like a deranged wind chime under the slightest whiff of wind. More spoons, and bigger ones at that, were nailed to the door, forming a sort of decorative spiral.

  A sign hung from a rusted chain. It read:

  “MASTER SPORCHIDE – SAGE OF THE SACRED SPOON – HUT 25. TRESPASSERS WILL BE FLATTENED.”

  Hut 25? How many huts does this sage have?

  No grushkin said a word when they arrived. Blorbo stole a gnce at them, and they looked terrified. Even the calmest one, who had been the least shrill throughout this entire mess, was now gripping the edge of the wagon. Are they that scared of a bonk on the head?

  Anders was the first to jump off the wagon. “If this fool truly has the ability to track all kitchenware, he better not waste our time.”

  Rob dismounted, checked his sword, and exhaled. “Let’s knock.”

  Before he was able to knock, however, a low, prolonged creak echoed from inside. Then, the door opened.

  A shadowed figure stood at the threshold.

  The only thing immediately visible was the spoon.

  And it was huge.

  Like, as big as a grown man’s leg huge.

  It wasn’t even a normal spoon. A strange luster danced along the wooden surface, and bizarre carvings coiled up its length like arcane script. It throbbed with a kind of energy that no spoon should ever possess.

  [NEW QUEST AVAILABLE: The Utensil of Unfathomable Power]

  Objective: Learn the true nature of the enchanted spoon.

  Reward: +2 PER, +1 AGI, “Sage’s Insight” (Temporary Buff: Increases comprehension of magical artifacts by 10% for the next hour).

  Prerequisite: None.

  Failure: None.

  Accept: Yes/No

  What’s a Temporary Buff? Do I have to use it right away upon receiving it?

  Another status showed up.

  [No. Use it whenever.]

  Huh? A normal quest? No ridiculous prerequisites or crazy failure penalties?

  [Ridiculous prerequisites have never been given. It shall be a feature from here onwards.]

  Wait! I—

  All notifications had disappeared, leaving only the quest screen.

  Can’t even think or have a silent opinion nowadays!

  The grushkins shuddered in unison.

  “M-Master Sporchide…” one of them croaked.

  The figure finally stepped forward into the light.

  Despite his modest height—barely reaching Lena’s shoulders—there was something about him that pressed down on the space around him. His robe was a mismatched quilt of old sacks and table linens. A thick rope cinched it at the waist, and an entire collection of kitchen utensils rattled against his side.

  This guy’s wack.

  Other than that, he was every bit what Blorbo would expect from an orc: green, broad-shouldered, thick-skinned, and built like someone who could rip a tree in half if the mood struck him.

  “What do you want?” He said in a thick voice.

  Lena cleared her throat and took a step forward. “Right! Um. Master Sporchide, we need your help.” She gestured vaguely at the grushkins. “They said you have the ability to locate any kitchenware?”

  Sporchide’s gaze shifted from Lena to the trembling grushkins. He inhaled, then hefted his colossal spoon onto his shoulder as though it were a battle-worn club. The wooden pnks groaned beneath its sheer weight.

  “You tied up my minions,” he said. “And what makes you think I’d offer it to you?”

  Anders strode forward and demanded, “Enough of this nonsense. If you truly possess the ability to track kitchenware, then you will do so. Now.”

  “You demand of me? You will pay.” Sporchide exhaled. Then, he raised his colossal spoon. With a single motion, Sporchide traced a slow arc through the air with the spoon, and…

  Tiny bubbles drifted from its surface. They looked like tiny rainbows as they zily floated in the air.

  Is that dish soap?

  “That guy’s gonna hit us with the power of dirty dishes.” Ducaz snorted. However, the grushkins next to Blorbo shivered like mad.

  Anders stiffened. His pupils shrank. “Move.”

  He waved both his hands, and a gust of wind knocked every one else several steps backward, out of the way of the first bubble.

  Pop.

  The sound was delicate, almost musical.

  Then the floorboards exploded.

  A concussive bst of force erupted from where the bubble had been. Dust rained from the ceiling. The wooden pnks cracked beneath the impact and fractured into jagged shards.

  Lena yelped as she regained her bance. “What?!”

  Rob immediately unsheathed his sword.

  Ducaz, who had miraculously retreated behind the wagon, stuck his head out. “Oh, that is not just dish soap.”

  Anders gritted his teeth. “Of course it’s not.”

  What the hell was that? Who in their right mind weaponizes SOAP BUBBLES?

  Sporchide twirled his massive spoon, his eyes gleaming with something just shy of amusement. “A mere gust-wielder dares to challenge me?”

  “Nobody interfere.” Anders scowled. His hands moved in perfect coordination, and a sharp current of wind whipped toward Sporchide’s spoon. The cluster of bubbles were hurtled back toward their creator.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Sporchide’s arm blurred as he struck each bubble before it could detonate. Blorbo expected a wild explosion like with the first bubble, but the moment his spoon made contact, the energy of the bst was siphoned into the wood and reduced to nothingness as the eerie carvings along its surface glowed green.

  “You py with wind,” Sporchide mused, barely gncing up. “A simple, straightforward element. Predictable.”

  Anders didn’t respond. He snapped his fingers, and another burst of wind sliced through the air. It caught an entire cluster of bubbles and spun them in an erratic, spiraling trajectory back at Sporchide.

  “So cool!” Lena cpped her hands together.

  Damn. And Anders said he was only able to cast Basic-level spells to avoid detection. Basic-level spells already looked THAT cool?

  The Spoon Sage met every single rogue bubble with an exact strike. The moment each one was popped, his stance didn’t so much as falter.

  “You call that an attack?” Sporchide rumbled as he countered. With a pnt of his feet, the carved symbols along its handle pulsed once. Then, he took from his back pocket not one, not two, but THREE cabbages. With a single upward sweep, he sent a shimmering wave of cabbage soup through the air.

  But it wasn’t just soup.

  The force of the spell sent whole cabbages flying—spinning wildly like botanical cannonballs. They whistled through the air at terrifying speeds, some of them exploding into shreds of leafy debris mid-flight. The soup itself hissed like molten tar and surged forward in a thick, rolling tide, steaming with dangerous intent.

  The hut groaned as the spell tore across the floor, rattling pnks and shaking walls, the scent of overboiled greens filling the battlefield.

  Cabbages! Yuck! I’m about to puke!

  Anders narrowed his eyes. “Ridiculous,” he muttered.

  Then he rolled his wrist. A sharp gust of wind burst forth, slicing through the tidal wave of soup and splitting it apart before it could reach him. The cabbages, however, were still very much airborne—spinning, whistling, hurtling toward him.

  Anders swept his arms in a sharp arc. Wind coalesced around his hands, shaping itself into a long, weightless force. Like a bat made of pure air.

  Then he swung.

  Whap.

  A cabbage exploded on impact. The leaves scattered like shrapnel.

  WHAP. WHAP. WHAP.

  Each strike sent the vegetables flying back the way they came. One cabbage hit another midair, sending both bolting toward Sporchide at double speed.

  The Spoon Sage tried to rotate his spoon to block, but—

  THUD.

  A particurly fat cabbage smmed directly into his face.

  The hut went silent.

  Anders stood there, perfectly banced, as a single cabbage leaf fluttered down past his shoulder. “Ridiculous,” he muttered again.