There was a small drain—noticeable But not dangerous. Not exhausting. Not yet.
He crouched beside the barrel, inspecting a small blackened patch of splintered wood.
Not lethal, he reminded himself. But enough to knock something back, make space, buy time.
That was all he needed.
He stood, shaking the tension from his hand. Mana crackled faintly along his fingertips for a moment, then dissipated.
It was comforting in a strange way.
He turned back toward the kitchen just as the first hints of gold touched the rooftops.
Time to cook.
__________
The scent hit him before he turned the corner—fresh-baked bread, honeyed smoke, crushed herbs trampled underfoot. Ren stepped into the market square and felt like he’d walked into a different world entirely.
This was the town’s pulse.
The tavern had its rhythms, sure—dawn prep, lunch bustle, late-night regulars—but the market breathed. Alive with noise, color, chatter. People haggled over fish baskets, children darted between carts with sticky fingers, and somewhere off to the right, someone was loudly claiming their goose could sniff out curses.
Ren smiled.
He’d only been here a few weeks, but already, he looked forward to market days. Not just for supplies—but for learning.
Cooking in this world was like learning how to paint with colors he’d never seen before. Every time he came here, he found something new to taste, to test, to add to his growing culinary grimoire.
He adjusted the strap on his carrying basket and stepped into the crowd.
His first stop was a stall run by a sharp-eyed older woman named Vela, who specialized in rare and imported spices.
The air around her stall was thick with aroma—smoke-dried pepper, sun-cured herbs, strange floral notes. Glass jars lined her display, each labeled with precise handwriting. One of the jars pulsed faintly—Ren leaned closer.
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“Lightning pepper,” Vela said, tapping the glass. “Imported from the high valleys near the rift. Numbs the tongue if you chew too much. Excellent with roast eel.”
Ren sniffed it, and the familiar blue system ping greeted him.
U[Taste Analysis: Passive Scan Triggered]
Substance: Lightning Pepper (Dried)
Flavor Profile: Sharp, numbing, citrus-adjacent burn.
Affinity: Lightning
Culinary Effect: Increases sensory response; mild energizing stimulant.
He bought a small pouch immediately.
Further down, he paused at a table stacked high with pale roots, the size of a forearm, rough-skinned and twisted.
“Try one,” the vendor grunted, slicing a thin coin of root and handing it to Ren on a leaf.
It was… peppery, almost radish-like, with a sharp bitter finish.
The system agreed.
[Taste Analysis: Ironroot]
Affinity: Earth (Dense)
Notes: Tough, mineral-heavy. May reinforce bone or skin structure in proper doses.
Ren chewed slowly, thinking.
Maybe roasted with fat to mellow the bitterness? Maybe shredded raw and soaked in acid?
He bought two.
The fruit vendor had a massive canvas shade over his cart to keep things cool. His display was gorgeous—heaped bundles of golden citrus, plump red berries that glistened like rubies, and in the center…
A small pile of fuzzy, violet-skinned gourds.
Ren blinked. “Stormkin squash?”
The vendor raised an eyebrow. “You know your plants.”
“I’ve read,” Ren said vaguely.
He picked one up. It buzzed faintly in his hand.
A test bite (after some negotiating) sent a zip through his teeth—not unpleasant, just sharp.
[Taste Analysis: Stormkin Squash]
Affinity: Lightning
Notes: Slight voltage. Bitter rind, sweet core. Stimulates neural activity. Rare outside coastal rift zones.
It tasted like possibility.
Not everything in the market was magical—but Ren didn’t care. He stopped to smell cheeses, sample bread rolls, and chat with a sausage-maker about fermentation techniques.
Even the ordinary had its place, he thought. You can’t layer complex flavors without a solid base.
A black bread with a faint caramelized crust gave him an idea: mana-infused vinegar reduction, paired with salt-baked roots.
He filled his basket slowly, carefully, like he was foraging through art supplies.
With his basket full, Ren made his way through the quieter side streets to Farin’s shop.
Inside: the usual clutter. Bottles, scrolls, reagents. The faint smell of burnt lavender.
Ren placed the stormkin squash and lightning pepper on the counter.
“I’ve got homework,” he said.
Farin glanced up, then down at the ingredients. “Electric cuisine, huh?”
“Just experimenting.”
Farin gestured to a shelf. “Take a seat. I’ve been meaning to explain something anyway.”
He unrolled a worn parchment. “System progression. You’ve seen the skill screen?”
Ren nodded. “At level five.”
“Right. You get skill choices every five levels. First evolution happens at ten.
You keep doing what you do, but the system sharpens it.”
He pointed to a section of the scroll. “From level ten onward, skill choices come every ten levels. Bigger gaps. Bigger decisions.”
Ren leaned in. “What about higher levels?”
“Fifty’s the second evolution. A whole new tier. Rarer around here, but still a decent population.Third evolution’s at a hundred, they’re basically non existent over here but with the dungeon? We might start seeing more.
Ren’s mind raced. Evolutions. Branching paths. What could a Chef even become?
He nodded slowly, eyes drifting toward his ingredients.
Not just for food anymore.
