Lysander set to work. He didn't use magic; he used his hands. He gathered dry fallen branches, stacking them efficiently in the center of the alcove. He scraped a piece of flint against his dagger, sparking a small flame that quickly caught the dry leaves.
The fire crackled to life, casting a warm, orange glow against the cold gray stone. The heat felt incredible against his skin, driving away the damp chill of the Abyssal Wilds.
He sat down on a flat rock, staring into the dancing flames.
"Now," he whispered, rubbing his hands together. "It's time to feast"
The fire was crackling steadily now, a comforting sound in the silent jungle. Lysander stood up and faced the open space near the fire.
"Inventory: Extract"
THUD.
The massive carcass of the Iron-Hide Bison appeared on the ground. It was huge, heavy, and covered in tough leather that would break a normal knife.
Lysander looked at his simple combat dagger. He frowned.
"This isn't going to work," he muttered. "If I use a jagged combat knife, I'll mangle the meat. I'll ruin the best cuts."
Ding!
"Master, proper preparation requires proper tools. A warrior eats what he kills, but a King eats with refinement"
[Item: Gourmet Hunter's Knife Set]
[Rank: B]
[Description: A set of 5 blades made from Adamantine Steel. Sharp enough to slice through bone like paper. Guaranteed to preserve the flavor and mana within the meat]
[Price: 500 SP]
Lysander raised an eyebrow. "500 SP for kitchen knives? That's robbery"
He looked at the bison. He looked at his sad little dagger. He imagined chewing on tough, ruined leather.
"Buy it," he sighed.
ZAP.
A sleek, black leather roll unrolled in his hands. Inside were five gleaming knives, each with a different shape. They radiated a cold, razor-sharp aura.
"Whoa," Lysander whispered, pulling out the butcher's cleaver. It felt perfectly balanced.
He stepped up to the bison.
[SKILL ACTIVATED: ANATOMY KNOWLEDGE (PASSIVE)]
With his high Intelligence, he instantly knew where the joints, muscles, and fat layers were.
SHING. SHING.
It wasn't butchery; it was art.
The Rank-B blade slid through the bison's iron-hard skin as if it were melted butter. With surgical precision, Lysander separated the ribs, stripped the loin, and carved out thick, marbled steaks. He didn't waste a single ounce. The movement was fluid, almost like a sword dance.
Within twenty minutes, the massive beast was reduced to neat piles of high-quality meat, bone, and hide.
Lysander held up a massive Tomahawk steak, admiring the marbling.
"Now that," he smiled, "is a proper cut."
But then, he paused. He looked at the raw meat, then at the simple fire.
"Wait a minute," he thought, scratching his chin. "I have the meat. I have the fire. But... just roasting it is boring. It will taste like smoke and burnt fat"
He looked around the alien jungle.
"How do people in this world even cook? Do they just eat it bland? Or are there spices growing in this hellhole?"
He looked at the System panel.
"System," he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You sold me the knives. Don't tell me you don't sell Seasoning?"
The fire crackled warmly, casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls of the alcove. In front of Lysander lay a feast fit for a barbarian king—mounds of perfectly butchered Iron-Hide Bison meat, glistening with freshness.
He picked up a massive slab of ribeye, easily weighing two pounds. It looked incredible. But as he brought it closer to the flames, he hesitated.
"It's going to taste like nothing," Lysander realized aloud. "Just hot, bloody protein."
He sat back on his rock, looking at the alien jungle around him.
"System," he asked, genuinely curious.
"What do the humans of this world do for flavor? I've seen Knights and Mages, but I haven't seen a grocery store. Do they just eat boiled monster meat their whole lives?"
Whirrr...
[Negative. In this world, flavor is a luxury, not a given]
[Commoners eat bland stews. However, Nobles and High-Rank Adventurers consume meals enhanced with Mana Herbs and Dungeon Spices]
[These ingredients—like 'Fire-Root Ginger' or 'Crystal Salt'—are rare. They grow deep within Dungeons or in the heart of dangerous forests. There is an entire class profession known as 'Herb Gatherers' whose sole job is to risk their lives to find a specific leaf that makes soup taste salty]
Lysander blinked. "So, salt is a treasure here? People die for pepper?"
[CORRECT]
"A jar of high-grade spices can cost as much as a steel sword"
Lysander looked at his steak. He wasn't going to go hunting for a 'Fire-Root' in a dungeon just to eat dinner.
"I'm rich in Points, but poor in supplies," he sighed. "I can't believe I have the ultimate weapon, but I don't have salt"
As if waiting for this exact moment of weakness, the System window flashed gold.
Ding!
"Why hunt for herbs when you can own the flavors of the multiverse?"
[Item: The Box of Infinite Aromas]
[Rank: Special]
[Description: A magical wooden box containing 12 distinct compartments. It holds the essence of the finest spices from a thousand worlds]
[Price: 1,000 SP]
[Refill Cost: 10 SP per empty slot]
Lysander stared at the price tag.
"One thousand points?" he choked.
"That's... that's the price of a rare skill! That's more than my armor repair cost!"
He looked at the bland meat. Then he looked at the description of "essence of the finest spices from a thousand worlds"
He swallowed hard. He remembered the taste of the tasteless Velkora fruit. He remembered the watery System bread.
"I'm a warrior," he rationalized, his voice trembling slightly. "I risk my life every day. If I die tomorrow, what was the point of saving SP? A man deserves to eat well before he fights a God"
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Buy it"
ZAP.
[-1,000 SP Deducted]
A beautiful, polished mahogany box appeared in his lap. It was heavy, warm to the touch, and engraved with carvings of exotic plants. It didn't look like a weapon; it looked like a treasure chest.
Slowly, reverently, Lysander unlatched the brass hook and opened the lid.
The smell hit him instantly.
It wasn't just a smell; it was a memory. The sharp, nose-tickling scent of ground black pepper. The smoky, deep aroma of paprika. The savory punch of garlic powder.
"Oh my god," Lysander whispered, inhaling deeply. "It smells like civilization"
He looked at the twelve small glass jars nestled inside the velvet lining. They were filled with colorful powders.
He grabbed the steak he had prepared earlier.
"Okay," he said, his expression serious. "Let's do this properly"
He took the [Crystal Salt] and sprinkled it over the raw red meat. The white grains sparkled as they hit the flesh. Next, he grabbed the [Crushed Black Pepper] and coated the surface. Finally, he found a jar labeled [Dragon-Fire Chili Blend].
"Just a touch," he murmured, rubbing the red powder into the meat.
He didn't just season it; he massaged the spices in, ensuring every fiber was coated. To anyone watching, he looked more focused now than when he was fighting the Harpies.
He speared the steak with his new adamantine knife and held it over the fire.
Sizzzle...
The sound was music. The fat rendered, dripping into the flames and sending up plumes of aromatic smoke. The smell filled the small alcove—a rich, savory scent of roasting meat and spices that would make a vegetarian weep.
Lysander watched the meat turn from raw red to a beautiful, charred brown. He waited until the crust was perfect, keeping the inside juicy.
"Ready"
He pulled the meat back and let it rest for a minute on a clean stone (because the System told him to let the juices settle). It was the longest minute of his life.
Finally, he sliced a piece off. The knife slid through it effortlessly. The inside was a perfect medium-rare pink.
He blew on it gently, then popped the hot piece of meat into his mouth.
Crunch. Chew.
Lysander's eyes went wide. He stopped moving.
The flavor exploded on his tongue. The saltiness woke up his taste buds. The pepper provided a sharp kick. The chili added a low, burning heat that warmed his chest. And the meat itself—the Iron-Hide Bison—was rich, gamey, and incredibly tender.
He chewed slowly, savoring the juices.
"..."
He swallowed.
"Worth it," he whispered, staring at the box. "Every single point. Totally worth it"
He didn't stop there. He ate like a starving wolf. Piece after piece, he devoured the steak, his face smeared with grease and spices. For the first time since arriving in this hellish world, he didn't feel like a survivor scraping by. He felt alive.
He finished the entire two-pound steak and licked his fingers.
"System," Lysander said, leaning back against the rock, his stomach full and warm.
"Remind me to hunt another Bison tomorrow. I think I need to try the Garlic Herb blend next"
He closed the Box of Infinite Aromas with a satisfied click. The refill cost was 10 SP, but honestly? He would have paid double.
In the dark, dangerous Forest, with monsters prowling in the distance, Lysander fell asleep with a full belly and a smile on his face, dreaming not of battles, but of Food.