After the day she had, Marron craved a long, hot bath. She reached her bedroom and just opened the closet door when she heard the familiar chi in her head. But now it sounded more triumphant than usual.
Ding!
[Congratulations, Chef! Combat Encounter Complete!]
Golden text scrolled across her vision, each word accompanied by a musical flourish she hadn’t heard before. It was like the level-up sound she heard in video gas.
[Experience Gained: 450 XP]
[First Monster Slain Bonus: 200 XP]
[Solo Kill Achievent: 150 XP]
[Gold Earned: 800 pieces]
[Total Experience: 800 XP]
[Level Up! You are now Level 12]
Any other ti, Marron would have been proud of herself. But right now, a bath was more important. So she grabbed a change of clothes, ran the faucet, and waited for it to fill up. The bathroom in these quarters wasn’t fancy, but it got the job done.
"After fighting a giant ant that slls like honey garlic beef...I just want to feel clean and normal."
Unfortunately, the System was immune to such wishes. The numbers and the praise just kept coming. Her exhaustion made the glowing script swim slightly, like tiny fish darting in a pond.
"800 XP for one fight sounds about right. I deserved that."
She jumped all the way to level 12 after staying at 1 for so long.
I kind of wished I was an NPC.
But the System wasn’t finished with her just yet.
[SPECIAL ACHIEVENT UNLOCKED]
[Hidden Class Discovered: Combat Chef]
[New Skill Tree Available: Monster Slaughter & Butchery]
[Future levels in this class will enhance your ability to efficiently kill and process creatures for culinary purposes]
[New Recipe Category Unlocked: Monster Cuisine]
[Available Recipes: 1/???]
Marron stared at the glowing text until her eyes burned. Her apron, still stiff with ant ichor, suddenly felt heavier, as if it had soaked up more than blood.
"Combat Chef?" she whispered. Her laugh ca out ragged as she turned the faucet off. "I wasn’t supposed to have combat skills. I’m a cook, not a... a monster hunter."
The System’s response arrived with what sounded—unsettlingly—like a chuckle tucked into the scrolling font.
[In this world, one rule is absolute: eat, or be eaten. However you acquire your at, chef, this remains true.]
Marron couldn’t argue with that, but it still felt a little unfair.
"I...guess so." Then, her pink eyes widened as she realized what her inner critic was missing: she hadn’t had the chance to doubt her abilities for very long. Ever since she stepped into the mimic dungeon, she had been on her own.
But she’d survived sohow, and couldn’t give away credit anymore.
I...it’s still hard to tell if I’ll be able to escape, but I’ve been doing okay for myself.
[You are a chef with an SSS-class cooking skill, whether you like it or not.]
"Yeah, but...I still need my food cart. It made everything tastier, didn’t it?"
[It is only a catalyst, dear chef. It shows you what your full potential could be.]
The scrolling text continued without a hitch.
[Your creativity with the salted rice ball demonstrates natural combat adaptation. What you call ’panic’ was tactical thinking combined with culinary knowledge.]
"I guess so." Marron knew there wasn’t much point fighting with a system designed to help her succeed...hopefully. Instead, she stripped her dirty clothes and folded them, putting them on top of the laundry basket.
She glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her dark curly hair was a little knotted in places, and her hands were visibly trembling. There were faint golden stains drying in the grooves of her knuckles, and Marron stared at them as if they belonged to soone else.
"The rice ball wasn’t for the ant though, I just had to use it that way. It was supposed to be for the mimics...in case they got too aggressive with . I threw it because I didn’t have another weapon."
Ding!
[Panic or not, you identified a weakness and exploited it.]
As Marron sank into the tub full of warm water, she felt her muscles relax considerably. She may still be underground, but there was still room for small pockets of relaxation. Plus, she accomplished sothing big today. She heard yet another
Ding!
and a new pop-up window opened.
"Could you do this after I’m done in the bath?" Marron half-complained, but read the scrolling text anyway.
[Do you want to view your first Monster Cuisine Recipe?]
"I would argue that the duskbeast at was the first monster cuisine recipe I ever made."
[You did not kill that monster, dear chef. It was gifted to you.]
"...yeah, let’s view the recipe. I’d like to have it on record that I’m very thankful to Kael for that, by the way."
A new window flared.
[MONSTER CUISINE – RECIPE #001
Crispy Honey Garlic Stir Fry]
Ingredients: Fresh Ant Thorax at, Soy sauce, garlic, honey, cornstarch
Effect: Temporarily increases consur’s defense by 15%
Cooking thod: Pan-fry
Special Note: Must be harvested imdiately to prevent the risk of over-marinating the at. When agitated, Garlic Ant Monsters release an aroma that mixes their natural scent with honey.
Marron read it twice, lips moving silently. As she did so, she felt the exhaustion giving way to her interest in culinary arts. The at was already marinating in garlic and honey, but the system suggested a slow roast.
Maybe I can add it in a wine marinade of sorts, to balance out the garlic. So herbs to ease in that bitterness, but not too much.
The notes of technique lined up in her head like knives on a rack.
"Does it have stats?"
[When making monster cuisine, the stats can vary. You are still training your SSS-class skill. At level 12, you can release around 30% of the al’s potency and flavor.]
[Serving the Lieutenant a good al during his dinner is the best chance to test your new abilities.]
At that, Marron’s stomach clenched. She rembered his eyes—cold, pale, as sharp as a knife angled to slice tendon.
When she presented the at to him, he just looked displeased instead of grateful.
Well, I get why he’s annoyed. I wandered around without permission. I’m lucky he bought my story.
The Lieutenant saw her as his pet chef instead of a bloody hunter dragging monster flesh into his barracks.
And if the mimics ever knew she could add buffs to her food, they’d probably stop calling her chef and just beg her for combat food.
Then they’d just see her as a weapon, able to throw flavor bombs to kill opponents.
That was a worse outco, by far. She’d never be able to leave the dungeon peacefully, and Marron was easily outnumbered.
The thought rattled her more than the fight had.
She shut her eyes, forcing her breathing to slow, and continued her soothing bath. Marron was alive and had one more knife, though it was dull and pathetic. Most importantly, she had the ant at sitting in her storage box, on the counter.
I didn’t care enough about it to shove it in the fridge. What insects could it attract underground? I an...it’s already from an ant.
Unfortunately, it slled...pretty appetizing.
Making it into a al wouldn’t be the worst thing she’d ever done.
After she’d scrubbed down and felt much cleaner, she walked to the kitchen and opened her storage box.
The slab of ant thorax at lay inside, wrapped in oil cloth, glistening faintly even in the dim lamplight. It had a mother-of-peral sheen, like it was basted in garlic oil. She lifted it out carefully, the weight solid in her hands.
For a mont, her exhaustion lted beneath the pull of her craft. She could already imagine the preparation: since the at was already well-marinated, she would toss it in so cornstarch and then pan-fry it on high heat. When it was crispy, she’d add so vegetables for color and nutrition, then serve it on a bed of white rice.
It would be delicious...if she made it with her food cart.
I miss the days when all I had to do was cook my heart out. I just wanted to cook food that grounded people, or healed them.
Instead, she was here wondering what stats would co out of her making this stir-fry.
Marron caught sight of her own reflection then, in the mirror propped up against the wall. Having a bath made her look fresher instead of absolutely exhausted. Her apron was now in the laundry basket, and she put her hair up in a towel turban.
But there was sothing different in her eyes.
Not in the mimic way, but just...she was not the sa Marron before she dropped inside a dungeon.
"Combat Chef," she murmured again, testing the words. They felt strange on her tongue, like a recipe she’d never written down, one borrowed from soone else’s nu.
The bone shard at her hip pulsed once, warm and insistent.
Marron set the at back in the box, folded the cloth closed, and pressed both hands to her knees.
She couldn’t let the Lieutenant see her fear. And she especially couldn’t let him guess how a Culinary System let her blend in as a mimic.
All he’s allowed to see is a chef bringing good food to his table.
The dungeon was changing with her cooking. And she was changing because of her experiences in the dungeon.
Now I have to make sure my cart and aren’t swallowed up by it.
"Monster cuisine," she whispered, and this ti she couldn’t help the crooked smile tugging at her lips. "Fine. Let’s see how you taste."
The sll of garlic still clung to her hands, but there was also a few more emotions settling in her heart.
That she was capable, and she would create a dish that would allow her access into the deeper parts of this dungeon.
I will retrieve my cart.
[Marron’s Current Status]
Class: Combat Chef
Level: 12
XP: 850
Gold: 1,310
Inventory:
1 Knife (borrowed)
Tinderbox
Oil cloths
Limited ingredients
Bone charm
Mimic inn key
Hot plate
Storage box (preserves food)
Phantasm Moss (collected, to be brewed)
Dusty dwarven journal (new find)
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