Professor M glanced at Mark, tilting his head back slightly to meet his eyes. “It seems you’ve finally regained your senses,” he remarked, his tone flat but measured. Mark looked up from his meal of potato and beef soup, meeting the professor’s gaze.
The professor’s nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. A strict vegetarian, he had spent too many years around corpses to have much tolerance for the smell of beef.
“Yes, as you put it,” Mark responded, his voice gravelly. “I’m getting my wits about me again. Apologies for… everything.”
“Disorienting,” Professor M interjected, finishing the thought for him with a slight tilt of his head. He stepped back, observing Mark from a calculated distance. The newest S-rank should be allowed to enjoy his first meal without unnecessary interruption, especially when he now outranked him.
Mark returned to his soup, visibly relaxing as he leaned back in his chair, a contented sigh escaping him. Professor M watched with a faint twitch of his lips, remembering how ravenous he had been after his own awakening.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Professor M straightened, his cold, analytical demeanor returning. “Alright,” he began, “I’ll leave you to it. The final step is for you to call up your stat window for the first time.”
Mark looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Stat window?”
“Yes, your stat window,” the professor repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s a skill every individual gains after a successful awakening. There’s no formal training or instruction. It should come naturally if the process was done properly. Some people summon it within minutes, others might take hours… or even days.”
Mark frowned, trying to process the new information. “And if it doesn’t come right away?”
“You’ll remain here in isolation until you can open it,” Professor M stated flatly, the word “isolation” hanging in the air like a weight.
“Isolation?” Mark echoed, his voice wavering slightly. He shifted in his seat, glancing around the sterile room.
“Yes, isolation,” Professor M reiterated, his gaze hardening. “The chair you’re sitting in is linked to the kingdom’s central data archive. Normally, it would identify your profession by comparing your mana properties to others who have awakened similar classes.”
He took a step closer, his expression growing even more severe. “But in your case, the closest matches were weak classes—D-rank Butcher, D-rank Fisherman, B-rank Blademaster, C-rank Self-Medic. None of them had a similarity higher than 5%.”
Mark’s eyes widened in realization. “So… my class is new. I’m the first.”
“Precisely.” The professor’s tone remained cold, but there was a flicker of something deeper, a rare emotion that crossed his face too quickly to be read. “It’s an uncommon occurrence. Even more so given your S-rank status. Most people have predecessors in their class to learn from. You, however, will be a pioneer.”
Mark leaned back, the weight of this revelation pressing down on him. His heart was pounding, and his mind was already racing with questions. A new class. No mentors, no examples to follow. He was completely alone in this.
The professor seemed to sense his unease and, for the briefest moment, his voice softened. “This is why we have to isolate you,” he explained, his tone firm yet almost… understanding. “An untrained S-rank with an unknown class could be a danger to others. For all we know, your abilities could be hazardous—passive poison, debilitating effects, who knows? Until you can confirm your profession and its abilities, you must remain here.”
Mark nodded, swallowing his frustration. “I get it, but… what about my friends? Are they alright?” He sat up straighter, his concern finally surfacing. “You said earlier—”
Professor M raised a hand, cutting him off. His gaze was piercing, the air around him seeming to chill. “That is not your concern right now.”
“But—” Mark started again, feeling a surge of anxiety rise within him.
The professor’s lips thinned in a warning. “I suggest you focus on yourself, Mark. Your friends will be fine. You, however, need to figure out what you are now.”
There was a sharpness to his words, a finality that brooked no argument. Mark’s mouth opened to protest, but something in the professor’s eyes made him stop. He swallowed the rest of his words, feeling helpless.
Satisfied that Mark understood, Professor M straightened, once again the picture of icy professionalism. “I’ll be going now,” he said, turning on his heel. His boots made sharp, deliberate sounds as they struck the floor, each step echoing in the small room. He knocked on the door three times, then glanced back.
Mark, still deep in thought, barely noticed. The professor gave a light grunt to catch his attention.
“Do be quick about it,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to suggest the faintest shadow of a smile. “We wouldn’t want to keep your friends waiting any longer than necessary, would we?”
And with that, the door slid open, and Professor M disappeared through it, the sound of it hissing shut leaving Mark completely alone in the sterile, empty room.
Silence fell like a heavy blanket, suffocating and oppressive. Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around at the stark white walls and the bright, artificial light overhead. His mind spun with the professor’s words, the uncertainty of his situation bearing down on him.
He was a pioneer. An S-rank with an unknown class. No one to teach him, no one to guide him. And now, he was isolated, left to figure it all out on his own.
Mark’s hands clenched into fists as he stared down at them. He needed to figure this out. There had to be something—some way to call forth his stats, to make sense of what was happening to him. The professor had said it would come naturally, but he felt anything but natural right now.
His breath came faster, his frustration growing. Was he supposed to just sit here and wait? No. That wasn’t him. He was always the one to take control, to push forward. Waiting wasn’t an option.
Mark closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. He had spent years mastering his mana, learning every nuance, every pulse of it. This couldn’t be that different. It was all part of him, after all.
Minutes passed, but Mark remained still, his breathing steady, his focus turned inward. His mana thrummed beneath the surface, familiar and powerful. He could feel it coursing through him, steady and sure. But no matter how hard he focused, the stat window remained elusive.
Come on… he urged himself.
And then, like the faintest crack in a dam, something shifted. His mana responded, flowing more freely, more naturally. Without thinking, he whispered aloud.
“Status.”
The air around him seemed to shimmer, and in the blink of an eye, a translucent screen appeared before his eyes. Mark blinked in surprise, momentarily stunned, presented in a narrative format that fits a storytelling or novel structure:
Mark looked at the stat screen floating in front of him, his eyes quickly scanning the unfamiliar numbers and values. He blinked a few times to make sure he was reading it correctly, and yet, the absurdity of it remained the same.
Vitality: 1500
MP: 10,000
Stamina: 4,000
Agility: 25
Speed: 30
Strength: 19
Resistance: 15%
Immunity: None
Level: 16
Profession Level: 1
Profession: Chef
Profession Sub-Class: ?????
Profession Skill 1: Rive (Level 1)
Profession Skill 2: ?????
Profession Skill 3: ?????
Hidden Skill: ???
Class Skill: ????????
He blinked again, squinting at the glowing screen.
"Chef?" Mark muttered under his breath, unable to believe what he was seeing. He had been bracing himself for something grand, something powerful that would justify his new S-rank status. But a chef? His eyes flicked back to the screen, zeroing in on the first skill under his profession: Rive.
To say, Mark was stunned, would be an understatement, he was an S-class chef, with is primary skill being to cut.
“I am sure the king would now have the very best meals going forward.” Mark muttered to himself; the whole situation was incredulous.
‘How am I the very first chef though.’ He wondered, it seemed unlikely that no one had awoken the chef profession before now.
Focusing on Rive more information was provided on the skill, it read
Grants the ability to cut accurately and cleaning
The ability to cut through a target is determined by the potency of the rive casted
In relation to the target.
Mark’s brows furrowed as he stared at the skill description on the screen, utterly perplexed. The explanation wasn’t exactly detailed, to say the least. How did it work? Did he have to make physical contact with something to cut it, or was a weapon required to channel the ability? The vagueness left him unsettled, and his confusion only deepened as he considered his options.
“A sword, more like a kitchen knife,” he muttered with a dry chuckle, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. A chef? Seriously?
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when his eyes landed on his mana pool, and his breath caught in his throat. The number that stared back at him wasn’t normal. In fact, it was downright alarming. He had expected a modest reserve, something typical of his supposed profession. But this… this was something else. How was that even possible?
“What the hell…?” he murmured, blinking a few times, hoping his vision was playing tricks on him.
Without another thought, he quickly closed the stat screen. There was only one way to figure this out, and that was through testing. His hands trembled slightly, excitement and nervousness battling for control. He had to see this for himself.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Every student had to learn channeling words at some point. It was a basic skill necessary for controlling mana and casting spells. These words ensured that the energy was properly directed, maximizing the potential of whatever spell or skill one was using. Mark had always been good at channeling, but this… This was something else entirely.
He glanced at a cup sitting on a chair across the room. It was a simple target—harmless and easy. A good first test, he decided.
Mark inhaled deeply, focusing his mind, and exhaled slowly, letting his body relax as he drew on his mana. The familiar sensation of energy coursing through him was comforting, though the sheer amount he could feel beneath the surface was unsettling. His focus narrowed on the cup, and he pointed at it, beginning his chant.
“Red, Eight, Delete!”
As the words left his lips, Mark felt the surge of energy leap from his core. A sharp twinge followed, and he watched as his mana drained rapidly—100 points, gone in an instant. The room shuddered slightly, as if the air itself was trembling under the weight of the spell.
The cup didn’t just move or shatter. No, it was cut cleanly in half, vertically, as if by an invisible blade. The precision was terrifying. But the cup wasn’t the only victim—the chair was sliced cleanly in two as well, as was the table behind it, and even the wall bore a deep, jagged scar.
Mark stood there, frozen in place, his breath catching in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribs, and his skin prickled with cold sweat. Slowly, he lowered his hand and looked down at it, still feeling the residual tingle of mana coursing through his veins.
“What… just happened?” he whispered to himself.
He quickly called up his stats again, eyes darting to his mana. It had indeed gone down by 100 points, confirming that the skill had worked. But the results were far more than he’d bargained for.
His profession, just as before, read “Chef.”
“What does that have to do with cooking?” he almost yelled, incredulity rising in his chest. The sheer absurdity of it was too much to process.
A voice crackled to life from a speaker in the corner of the room, making Mark jump. He had almost forgotten he was being observed.
“Do you see now why isolation was necessary, and why it will continue to be necessary?” The voice belonged to Professor M, his mentor and one of the senior instructors at the academy. He sounded calm, but there was a note of caution in his tone.
Mark blinked and glanced toward the speaker. “You were watching the whole time?” he asked, more curious than angry.
“We’ve been monitoring your progress closely,” Professor M replied, his voice coming through the microphone. “Tell me, what profession did you awaken.”
Mark hesitated. Should he lie? It wasn’t like they could see his stats screen. But then again, the truth was probably more unbelievable than any lie he could come up with.
“That would be… Chef,” he said, his voice flat as he glanced toward the camera.
A moment of silence followed, and Mark could imagine the confused expression on the professor’s face. When the response finally came, it was hesitant.
“A chef?” Professor M echoed, clearly off-balance. It was satisfying to know that he wasn’t the only one completely thrown off by this.
Mark smiled to himself. “Yes, that’s what it says on my stat sheet.”
“I… see,” the professor said slowly, clearly struggling to process the information. “That’s... unexpected.”
Unexpected was one way to put it. If Mark hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it either. The absurdity of it all would have been laughable if it wasn’t so terrifying.
Mark sighed and collapsed onto the small bed in the corner of the room, exhaustion settling into his bones. He pulled up his stats again, his eyes automatically drifting to his mana pool. It had gone down, sure, but not by much. The skill had cost him 100 points, but he still had plenty left.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the flow of mana within his body. It was a technique he’d used countless times to center himself and improve his control. But this time, something felt off. His control wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. His connection to his mana was… weaker. Had using that skill thrown him off balance?
His brow furrowed as he concentrated harder, trying to regain the sense of control he had once taken for granted. But the more he focused, the more he realized how much he had regressed. His precision was off, his command over the mana diminished. That explained why the skill had gone so horribly wrong earlier.
‘If it went that bad with a full chant and direction, it would’ve been a disaster if I tried without them,’ he thought to himself, his heart sinking at the realization.
He wasn’t just some chef. He was something far more dangerous. But what did it all mean? The answer lay somewhere within his abilities, and the sooner he figured it out, the safer he—and everyone around him—would be.
His eyes snapped open.
He needed to understand this power, and he needed to do it quickly. Whatever this profession was, it was far from ordinary, and it certainly wasn’t limited to the kitchen.
A Chef, what did a chef do, Mark wondered as he laid on the bed, ignoring the sounds the room made as it repaired itself. It was obvious that his profession had serious combat applications, paired with his incredibly high Mana pool and the invisible nature of the attack.
‘’ This might just work out.” Mark mused with a smile, perhaps he was underestimating himself and the profession, regardless of the title, he had awoken an s-rank ability, now he had to focus on better control as soon as possible, it wouldn’t do for the spell to skill to cut through more than what he intended, if that happened Professor M would definitely not let him out.
Looking up towards the camera, he stared for a few seconds before waving lightly.
“What do you need.”
“I need a titanium rod, at least 6 feet in length 9 inches thick.” Mar replied, a hand to his chin as he thought of what else he might need.
“Also I need books.”
‘’What kind of books?”
“Culinary books.” Mark responded albeit flustered.
“…. I see…. Do you also requires a stove? Or oven as well?’’ Mark rolled his eyes, he could hear the faint chuckles in the back ground which quickly stopped, he assumed Professor M gave them the look as it was called by his classmates.. Former classmates.
“No just books for now at least, If my profession truly is a chef, I need to study on well cooking.”
Mark’s response was met with a hmm of approval, it would seem professor M was not making jokes when he asked if he would need a stove or oven, the man was as serious as ever.
Mark sat down crossed legged on the floor as he waited for the arrival of his requests, he once again closed his eyes and searched for the shape of his mana,
Previously he had perfectly grasped the shape of his Mana, allowing him to use Mana shaped Manipulation relatively easily for someone with his humongous reserves, but right now, he could no longer pin down its shape, where it stared where it ended.
“All that hard work, gone.” He mused with a smile, although genuinely downtrodden, he was excited to start afresh, this time he was empowered with the knowledge he had gained whilst training and attending the academy for years.
He knew exactly what to do to rapidly improve his control over the mana flowing through his body, he then mentally navigated Mana into his newly formed pathways in his body and immediately felt the difference, he felt his physical strength and responsiveness increase tremendously.
Mark allowed the mana to flow for a few minutes before cutting it off when he began to feel pain. “ I guess the pathways are still to raw.” He muttered, intrigued by the results he had gained.
The door to the room once again slid open, three people walked in swiftly two holding a poll with the specification he instructed and the last carrying a bag of what he assumed to be
‘Strange why are they saluting me.’ Mark thought to himself he had not joined the military in any capacity, if anything he would be joining the survey team of a private outfit, that was his best bet to explore the gates with the most freedom possible.
He pulled the bag to himself and opened it, it had at least twelve books in it, Mark pulled out the books one after the other reading their title as he did so, before stopping on one that piqued his interest.
“Five essential Knife cutting methods.’’ It read, the book itself was of a white cover with the picture of two knives on it.
Mark opened the book and began to read; Recreating restaurant-quality dishes at home can be surprisingly difficult, even with the same recipe. The secret often lies in the cutting techniques chefs use for each ingredient. Mastering these methods not only boosts efficiency and consistency but also enhances the flavor and appearance of the meal.
Whether you're an aspiring home cook aiming to sharpen your abilities or a professional chef striving to stand out in a competitive culinary world, enhancing your knife skills can be a game-changer.
Before mastering various cutting techniques, it's essential to familiarize yourself with the different types of knives and their specific roles in the kitchen:
- Chef’s Knife: A versatile tool, perfect for a wide range of tasks like chopping vegetables or slicing meats.
- Paring Knife: Best suited for peeling and precise jobs, such as deveining shrimp or preparing small garnishes.
- Boning Knife: Features a narrow, flexible blade designed to skillfully remove bones from meat, poultry, or fish.
- Serrated Knife: Ideal for slicing items with hard exteriors and soft insides, like bread and tomatoes.
- Utility Knife: A mid-sized knife, larger than a paring knife but smaller than a chef’s knife, used for general cutting needs.
Mark paused, he had no idea, the knives used for cutting varied so much, he once again called upon his stat sheet, looking at the skill Rive, he wondered if perhaps it was an attack the used the properties of a boning, that might explain why the cuts were so clean and yet so destructive.
Flipping to the next chapter he continued to read, the next chapter seemed to be about knife techniques;
Mastering knife techniques is a cornerstone of culinary excellence. Whether preparing a simple salad or an intricate gourmet dish, honing these skills can transform your cooking by improving the texture, appearance, and taste of your creations.
Here are five essential cutting techniques every chef should know:
The Rock Chop: This technique uses a rocking motion of the knife, perfect for finely chopping herbs or garlic. The blade tip stays on the cutting board while you move the handle back and forth.
- Practical Use: Ideal for making finely diced onions, celery, and carrots—used in soups and stews.
The Cross Chop: Similar to the rock chop, but your free hand secures the knife tip in place while you move the rest of the blade over the ingredients.
- Practical Use: Perfect for chopping ingredients like basil and garlic when making pesto.
Trimming: This method removes unwanted fat or sinew from meats and vegetables, improving both presentation and flavor.
- Practical Use: Common in preparing dishes like rack of lamb, where excess fat is trimmed away.
Peeling: Removing the outer layer of fruits or vegetables with a paring knife or peeler is key for ensuring the right texture in certain dishes.
- Practical Use: Peeling potatoes or apples to create smooth mashed potatoes or pie filling.
The Chop: A basic up-and-down motion that creates even cuts, ideal for larger chunks of vegetables or fruits.
- Practical Use: Perfect for preparing chopped salads with uniform pieces of lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers.
Mark paused, closing the book with a sigh. The knife techniques he had just read about were fascinating, but how could he apply them to his own skill set? He only had one skill ability right now, and it wasn’t like chopping vegetables. Still, something about the techniques struck a chord. He felt that if he could master control, maybe he could refine his skill the way a chef refines their cutting technique. He hoped the other abilities he would acquire later might build on this knowledge, but for now, he had to focus on improving what he had.
Standing up, he stretched his muscles, stiff from sitting too long. As he walked around the room, his eyes fell on the metal pole leaning against the wall. The pole will be his testing tool, until he got it right, titanium was one of the hardest non magical metals to work with, if he could be clean and precise with it, it would go a long way.
Mark squared his shoulders, feeling the weight of determination settle into his posture. He stepped in front of the pole and extended his hand, pointing his finger at it. His mind focused on one goal—a controlled cut, just enough to shave a thin piece off the pole, without touching the wall behind it.
Taking a deep breath, he began the incantation, feeling the familiar surge of mana flow through him. He visualized the rock chop from the chef’s book, the way the blade moved with control, never lifting off the cutting board. He imagined his magic working in the same way—precise, not overpowering. The energy surged through his finger and towards the pole, and for a brief second, he thought he had it. But then, with a sharp crack, the wall behind the pole split open, the cut going far deeper than he had intended.
Mark winced. The pole was sliced cleanly, but so was the wall—again. He lowered his hand, frustration welling up inside him. Where had it gone wrong? He stood there, staring at the damage, thinking about the power he had unleashed. Too much mana, he realized. He had focused too much on cutting through the pole without controlling the force. Just like in cooking, where too much pressure could ruin a cut, too much mana had ruined his attempt, he smiled he was getting excited.
Taking a few calming breaths, Mark decided to try again. This time, he would use less power. He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the careful balance required in the techniques he had read about. He needed to adjust, to visualize something different. When slicing vegetables, chefs don’t just chop blindly—they measure their pressure, their speed, the angle of the blade. That’s what he needed to do here.
Opening his eyes, he pointed at the pole again, focusing his mind on reducing the mana flow. He started the chant, keeping the visualization of a chef’s precise slice in his mind. This wasn’t about brute strength; it was about finesse. The energy flowed through him again, this time slower, more controlled. He could feel the difference already, the mana humming at a more subtle frequency. He aimed the magic at the pole and released it.
Nothing happened.
Mark frowned. The pole remained untouched, not even a scratch on its surface. He had cut off too much power this time, making his magic ineffective. He groaned in frustration, dropping his arm to his side. This was harder than he had thought. Why couldn’t he find the right balance?
He sighed heavily, he really needed to leave here, to make sure Annabeth was okay, to make sure Newt was good, he wondered how Reyna did.
But instead of giving into mental fatigue, Mark paused and reflected on what had gone wrong. He had overcompensated, pulling back too much, just like how a chef might be too cautious with their cuts and end up taking nothing from the vegetable. He needed to find the middle ground between too much and too little power.
Determined, he adjusted his approach again. He thought back to the chef’s knife techniques, particularly the one about the claw grip. The claw grip wasn’t just for safety—it gave control. Mark had been treating his magic too much like a sword, wielding it with brute force or delicate caution. But it wasn’t about that—it was about control, about steady hands and focus. He needed to treat his mana like a chef’s knife.
For his third attempt, Mark brought the book’s lessons to the forefront of his mind. He visualized a perfectly controlled slice, one that would skim the surface of the pole but not tear through it entirely. It needed to be balanced—neither too deep nor too shallow, just enough to show mastery of the technique.
Raising his hand for the third time, he steadied himself. The chant began again, but this time, Mark kept a tight rein on the energy flow. It wasn’t about raw power; it was about precision. The mana pooled into his hand, ready to be released, but this time, Mark controlled the intensity, just like a chef choosing the perfect knife stroke. He visualized the blade cutting through only what was necessary.
The blade hit the pole with a soft hiss, and Mark watched as a thin line appeared along the surface. The pole vibrated slightly, but the wall behind it remained untouched. For a moment, he thought he had done it perfectly, but as the vibration stopped, he saw that while the pole was cut, it hadn’t gone all the way through.
Still, this was progress.
Mark exhaled slowly, a mix of relief and disappointment in his chest. He hadn’t fully succeeded, but he was getting closer. Each failure taught him something new about his mana, about how to control it. He couldn’t treat it like a blunt instrument—he had to be precise, just like in the kitchen. Every adjustment he made brought him closer to mastery.
He stood there for a moment, contemplating his next move. He wasn’t done yet, but he was learning. Each attempt, each failure, was part of the process. Mark knew that if he kept refining his approach, kept thinking about the balance and control he had read about, he would eventually achieve the perfect cut.
For now, though, he was content with the progress he had made. He had learned something important—control wasn’t just about holding back power; it was about applying the right amount at the right time. And with that knowledge, he knew he was one step closer to gaining a decent handle on his new ability.
For now, it was enough. Mark needed rest. The day had been more than eventful, leaving him drained both physically and mentally. As he moved toward the bathroom, he opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft clink. He glanced down at his open palms, and a sudden realization struck him—he was far more powerful than he had ever imagined.
Up until now, he had always assumed his future would involve some kind of flashy profession, something bold and striking but not as restrictive or grandiose as a dragon rider. This, though—this wasn’t something he had ever expected. Pointing his finger at the wall opposite him, he felt the technique start to hum to life, mana flowing effortlessly through his body. The semi-activation of his power sent a familiar surge of energy through him before he cut it off and lowered his hand.
A smile tugged at the corner of Mark’s mouth. The possibilities seemed limitless. With this ability, there was no telling how far he could go. He whispered to himself,
“With this, I could one day be number one.”