II-17 Jealousy (I)

The system spans countless worlds, and magic allows magi to travel distances unreachable even by the miraculous technologies of pre-integration humanity. This being said, just because you can get to a place does not mean it might be wise to go there. Hence, it is essential for Dimensionalists and aspiring Portomancers to understand the most popular locations in the Integrated Dimensions and the dangers that lurk within glorious vistas.

Additionally, this book will also go into detail about summoning and contract rituals. The ability to reach across space and varying realities to call upon trans-planar allies is an immensely beneficial power, but not one to be wielded frivolously. After all, having a Great Demon of the Shadowclaimed serving as your surveillance operative or protecting you from the shadows is immensely wonderful. It is less wonderful if you, because you did not research and understand their nature, offended them by summoning them to a place with any light at all and refused to let them eat your—or someone else’s—ability to ever sleep again.

The dimensions are strange, incredible, and above all, different, and thus, so are all the creatures contained within them. Reaching across the boundaries is your first gift as a Dimensionalist. Knowing where to go, whom to call upon, and how to reach them will become your second git by the end of this book.

-Dimensionals, Demons, and Dominions: A Dimensionalist’s Guide to the Integrated Worlds

II-17

Jealousy (I)

It had been some time since Shiv conducted a proper monster hunt. But this time wasn’t the same as all the ones he’d been on before, either. Before, he was just a desperate Pathless sneaking down into the ruins to slaughter nests of lesser vampires, hoping to earn a Path through triumphant bloodshed. His allies were daylight, fire, surprise, and a deep knowledge of his enemy’s habits. 

Now, he was going after a Greater Demon—a powerful dimensional being offered its services and skills under the conditions of a contract. A pretty massive leap from the lesser vampires. The bloodsuckers were something a prepared and fearless Pathless could hunt. The Jealousy was something that cracked Shiv’s Heroic-Tier Mind Shield with its Psychomancy. All things considered, this was, like Leu said, practically suicide.

And that just upped the thrill.

“Shiv… are you serious about this? It’s a Greater Demon. A Greater Felling Demon.” Tran, meanwhile, was on the other end of the excitement spectrum. “Creatures like this… it takes a dedicated force of Slayers to defeat. A group of Masters working in concert. Or—or even a Hero! I don’t think Roland Arrow would enter this beast’s lair alone and take this fight.”

“Well. I guess I’m not Roland Arrow.” Shiv chuckled. It was kind of strange being more enthusiastic about killing a monster than a Slayer, but Shiv kind of got why Tran was worried. The man was traumatized, wanted out of this hellscape, and if Shiv died his fate would be up in the air alongside Heather. Leu didn’t regard the Slayers or the goblin mercenary much. Most of her obsequiousness had been spent buttering Shiv’s ego, mostly because of their shared interest and the fact that he just might help her fulfill her lifelong desire of killing Confriga.

But if this went wrong and Shiv got his mind broken, well, things might not go so well for Tran and Heather. Even if they got out of the gateway over to the surface or the Abyss, they likely couldn’t fight off a small army of enemies. And then there was the small matter of them knowing too much.

Shiv wasn’t a complicated thinker, but basic secrecy and suspicion wasn’t that hard to grasp. If he was Leu and purely self-interested, he might just see Siggy, Heather, and Tran dead if this thing went wrong. That way, she could go back to hiding in plain sight and not risk anything. It was an ugly thought, but something Shiv thought Leu was capable of doing. After all, she served as Confriga’s Guardshead for a good while, and being a Guardshead for a slave-runner usually demanded a lack of morals.

I’m probably going to end up fighting it out with her over that once Confriga is dealt with. Or… I don’t know. The whole slavery thing still doesn’t sit right with me. Don’t want to just let her get away with it. Might be something else I can ask Valor and the others once I meet up with them again. But for now… for now we got a bit more preparing to do.

Over the course of a half-day, Shiv crafted three more sets of heavy bone armor, six bone drills, ten bone daggers, and harvested thirty skin decoys. This was all adamantine variety. He had much more in terms of the older Diamond Shelled category, and he fully intended to use materials taken from his Adept-Tier corpses when faced with lesser enemies.

However, the Jealousy was a monster, and a Heroic-Tier monster at that. From what Leu elaborated, though only its Psychomancy and Physicality were in the Heroic-Tier and Threshold, its Toughness was Master-Tier as well, with only its Reflexes lacking at Adept. And there was more she didn’t know about the beast, such as if it had weapon proficiency skills and just how intelligent it was.

Much like a cave biter, most Jealousies started out as non-thinking parasites that devoured the minds of conscious beings. From there, the ones that ate and leveled enough would ascend and attain a metamorphosis into a higher form—that being the colossal mind-crushing octopus Shiv saw guarding the gateway in the Abyss. This Jealousy had been alive for well over five hundred years, so its power and experiences must have been staggering.

But that provoked a question from Shiv. “Why’s it only Heroic?

Leu was staggered by his question. “Only? Master Shiv… You must understand that most simply do not accumulate the experiences and stresses required to progress at your prodigious rate. In fact, if what you have claimed about your rate of advancement is true then you are truly a monster among prodigies.”

Maybe. Or maybe my Unique Feat is just pretty damn good. But that still didn’t sit right with Shiv. “But still. Five hundred years is a long time.”

“Consider how it spent the five hundred years,” Leu said. “Its initial growth, like all Pathbearers, was likely rapid. Reaching Adept in months to years.”

“Years, usually,” Heather commented from the side. She stared bitterly at Shiv. “Not weeks.”

“Technically, I got my Adept-Tier Toughness in days,” Shiv corrected.

The Jump Mage looked close to being dangerously ill.

“But after it ascends to Adept-Tier and undergoes the initial stages of its metamorphosis, it will start to think and learn. And among the first things a thinking creature learns is more sophisticated acts of self-preservation. Its natural lifespan is long, and its advancements in Physicality only lengthen the time it has. It need not hurry to progress, and most Pathbearers do not. It is also not uncommon for most Master-Tier Pathbearers to slow their progress and enjoy the fruits of their labor. Or face a bottleneck that leaves them trapped. After all, it is hard to achieve greater and more significant acts of legend as you evolve your skills and rise through the Thresholds.”

Shiv didn’t get that at all. “I thought the whole point of being a Pathbearer was to claim more freedom through skills and power. To face stronger enemies and do greater things.”

“Yeah, but most of us want to live, too,” Heather remarked. “Can’t exactly do any of the great and history-shaping stuff if you’re dead.”

The Deathless stared at her. And slowly smiled under his helmet. “Well. I suppose that’s true for most people.”

Heather looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Still, Shiv, if this plan goes wrong—this is a Heroic-Tier Psychomancer. Death isn’t even the first thing it might do to you.” Tran looked uneasy, and sounded genuinely worried about Shiv. “You said your mask got cracked by its mind magic. How many more hits do you think it can take?”

Shiv regarded his Mask of False Paths.

Equipment: [Mask of False Paths]

Condition: Moderately Damaged

“Probably at least another good hit or two from a Heroic-Tier adversary,” Shiv said. “But Leu says the thing will be sluggish, confused, and weakened while in its digestive state after eating the minds of the slaves. And it’ll be distracted and unfocused while trying to eat the slaves. That, and its sanctum will be sealed during its feeding time to protect the rest of the gate from… what did you call it, Lue?”

“Psychoactive Overflow,” the Vulteg reminded him.

“Psychoactive Overflow. Meaning if I manage to sneak in with the slaves, it’ll just be me, them, and the big ugly bastard for a good few hours. Plenty of time to either kill it, or get my mind broken for good. Preferably the former. That being said…” Shiv tossed the last of his bone drills into his cape. It felt like it was nearing capacity in terms of weight and storage by now, but Shiv had a feeling it would get a lot lighter real soon. “I’m probably going to ask you to return that armor to me, Heather. Way this fight’s going to go, I’m going to need every bit of Magical Resistance I can afford. Especially since I got none.”

“What?” Leu said, her low with disbelief. “N-none?”

“Yeah, the mask just has a Heroic Mind-Shield, but aside from that, I got my Master-Tier Biomancy, and… well, the other magical skills are still growing. Just… not as fast.”

The Guardshead just stared at him, her glowing eye shrinking at its core. “Master Shiv, your skills and evolutions are… The nature of your capabilities is beyond my comprehension.”

Shiv blinked. He wasn’t sure if she was insulting him or praising his power. “Thank you?”

Leu gawked at him for a few moments longer before turning to stare at Heather, Tran, and Siggy.

“Don’t look at me, I’m just a hostage,” the goblin muttered.

“I’m as grossed out as you look,” Heather croaked. Beside her, Tran just shrugged.

“Come on, my evolutions and main skills aren’t that weird,” Shiv defended. Everyone started at him. None of them held any agreement or belief in their eyes.

“Against a Greater Demon like the Jealousy, a damaged piece of equipment will not do.” Leu hesitated for a moment, before turning, staring in the direction of her personal armory and wardrobe. “Please wait here, Master Shiv. I may have something that might be of service to you in the battle ahead. Please wait a moment here.

As the Guardshead departed, Shiv flinched as two of her slugs began smashing into each other in the spatially expanded enclosure below. It seemed like they were fighting over some large— Wait, is that 811’s body? Yeah. Hells yeah! Get that body, slugs. Eat the bastard and shit him out again.

“Shiv, hey, listen… I know you don’t trust me, but can I take a look at the mask again?” Tran asked, interrupting T

Shiv paused, and after a beat of consideration, removed his helmet and mask before handing the item off to Tran. Its surface was veined with deep fissures, but the mask was still holding together. It was surprisingly resilient for something that was supposedly just made from bronze, but magical items were weird that way.

“How many enchantments is this thing running?” Tran asked, running a finger across the cracks in the mask.

“About four. Perfect Semblance. Adept and Advanced-Skill Thief, and… uh, Heroic Mind-Shield.”

The Slayer whistled. “Those are some pretty hefty enchantments, Shiv. I’m guessing this mask is pretty close to its current mana capacity, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to apply a Self-Mending enchantment to it, but I can try.”

“You can enchant?” Shiv said, taking in Tran with new eyes. “I didn’t know that.”

Tran smiled miserably at Shiv, and he laughed. “We really know each other, Shiv. Lots of things you didn’t know about me, and I certainly didn’t expect about you. I’m no dedicated enchanter—mostly got the skill because I wanted to avoid spending money I didn’t have at the academy… But I should still have a few skill levels in repair that I can invest into the mask. If it takes, the damage should go away.”

Shiv didn’t know what to say. “You’re willing to do that? Just… give up some of your skill levels.”

“I’m willing to up an entire Skill Evolution if it means keeping you alive and getting all of us out of this place,” Tran muttered honestly. “Even if that’s impossible to do.”

Shiv frowned. “Tran, I know it’s going to be a rough and ugly fight even if the demon is weakened, but I wouldn’t call the odds impossible.”

“No, not that: Investing a full Skill Evolution into an item is impossible.”

“Huh?” Shiv blinked. “It is?”

“Yeah,” Tran said. He looked around and muttered something under his breath about needing to ask Lue if she had an enchanting table somewhere. “So, skipping through all the academic theories, certain items have Tiers of their own—a bit like a Pathbearer or a core. But an item’s Tiers determines how many skill levels it can contain with its mana. The thing about investing skills into an item is that our skills are shaped in relation to us as people, and with how mana is actively attuned by the mind… Well, most skills transforming a bit once they get put into an item because there’s usually no longer a mind that can mold them and a lot of other details that’ll take all day to explain.”

“So, the reason why you can’t just give an Evolved Skill to an item is because it won’t be the same skill?” Shiv asked.

“That, and you can’t invest anything below your evolution thresholds. Skills don’t exactly devolve back to what they used to be, no matter how much some people might want to get another try at a better Skill Evolution. It’s like a crystallization of who you are to some extent. A hardened aspect of your soul formed by your mind, vitality, unattuned mana, and other experiences.”

“Is that why my body and mana fields change too?” Shiv asked.

“Yeah,” Tran said. “Something like that.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a stressed, humorless laugh. “Broken Moon, Shiv. You really just fought your way across the Abyss and just it through by dying over and over again, huh?” His expression flattened into something bordering on apologetic and regretful. “I wanted to tell you.”

As he looked upon Tran’s face, Shiv understood. “About keeping tabs on me for the Town-Lord?”

“Yeah. I wanted to. I thought you didn’t deserve it. Any of it. But I needed the mithril badly, and Roland was willing to pay. So. I shadowed some poor, vicious kid who the system seemed to have it out for. Years and years. Nothing. And now here we are, Roland’s worst nightmare come true… except he can’t really do anything about it, and you’re not actually a monster. Well. Not after you dealt with the Orcish Skill, anyway.”

Shiv sighed. “I wouldn’t have cared as much if someone else did it. But you were always decent to me back then. Maybe we weren’t friends or anything, but I thought you were just the one guy who wasn’t some backward fortress town asshole and that the rest of the Republic or world wouldn’t hate me for something I didn’t do.”

“I don’t hate you,” Tran said. “I never did.” He even sounded honest.

“Yeah,” Shiv snorted. “Neither does Heather now. Instead, you two are scared shitless of me now. Kind of an improvement for me, but is this really what being a Pathbearer is like for you? You can’t decide what you want to do, still have to grovel for mithril from the Town-Lord, you treat those lesser than you like shit and those stronger than you like they’re a god? What kind of life is that?”

“It’s reality.” Heather said. There was a hint of heat in her voice. Anger. “We can’t all be like you, Shiv.”

At that, Shiv could only laugh. “Heather. You had a nice family that loved you, that paid for your education, that made sure you were preparing to be a Pathbearer from the moment you were a kid. Tran might’ve not had that much, but… he did go to an academy. You look at me like I’m some sort of weird, nightmarish monster of a person. Fine. I’m flattered. I accept that. But I remember you sneering at me every time I asked you about magic when I was a kid, and it didn’t even give you anything anyway. You were being a shit to be a shit.”

The Deathless gave an annoyed sigh. “For all my life before the past few weeks, I fought. I fought. It hurt, but I fought. The system spited me. I fought. Shit hand? Bad luck? Fight. And I was so godsdamned jealous of you people, of what you could do and become. I would have given anything to become like you—and I did. I died fighting some bastard I knew I had no hope of facing, but I fought him anyway because the only other choice was to fold and let him hurt someone else. And I wasn’t about that. Even as a Pathless. But it seems you two were for the folding, even as Pathbearers. Which makes me wonder what the hell’s the point of being one? What kind of ascension or evolution are you going to get if you keep folding?”

Heather looked away from him. Tran focused really hard on Shiv’s mask and tried to hide how his jaw was clenching.

“The system wants us to fight and struggle,” Shiv said. “I don’t know why. I don’t know for what. But it does. But you two have years on me. Years of being a Pathbearer. Years of academy education, a team to support you, everyone being willing to help you. I might have a unique Path. I might not be as bothered by death and pain compared to most people, but I fought.” Shiv almost snarled as he looked at them. “Well. Now you’re in a place where the system doesn’t care that you're scared, that you’re alone, that you’re hurt and hunted. Congratulations, guys. I’m now you, and you’re now me. The only difference is I don’t intend to leave you to die. Because I don’t stay scared. I just get pissed.”

A painful silence followed. Neither of the Slayers could meet his eyes. Shiv could hear Siggy gulping nearby. Lue's return mercifully broke the awkwardness. She came bearing something with her head-tentacles. It resembled a heavy, pitch-black gauntlet that seemed to be made of some kind of quivering material.

Huh, this looks promising.

“Master Shiv,” Leu said, bringing the items to bear. “Over the years, Gate Theborn has amassed trinkets and weapons from Pathbearers that… no longer require them. A few, I took as my own, treating them as ostensible trophies, but I truthfully wished to build up an armory that would give me options when it came to executing my plans. Today, I have scoured the few Master-Tier pieces I have, and wish to offer something to you for your coming struggle—and as payment offered toward introducing me to the Great Valor Thann.”

The Guardshead was definitely laying it a bit thick as she buttered him up, but Shiv couldn’t lie: After a lifetime of being practically destitute and bereft, he was pretty bribable.

But then he noticed something very peculiar about the gauntlet. More than just being made from a weird, constantly vibrating material, it also kept his mana field at bay, becoming like a small fortress his magic couldn’t pass through. And he wasn’t the only one feeling it.

“Wait, is that gauntlet made of Inertium,” Heather gasped. “How did you get an Inertium gauntlet?”

“From a Pathbearer who proclaimed herself to be a Magebreaker. She offered one of her gauntlets to us in exchange for some very pertinent information about her target. I made sure the gauntlet went missing before someone else could claim it from the inventory.”

Shiv took it from her tentacles and felt how the material hummed between his hands. More than that, he felt how his mana got stuck and disrupted by the constantly shaking substance. “What even is this?”

“A very rare material created by the magic-fearing Farwalkers to combat the Fae. The nature of its composition is known to no other race, and as you might have already observed, mana is disrupted by the unstable nature of the item.”

Equipment Obtained: [Gauntlet of the Magebreaker]

Tier: Master

Condition: Perfect

Composition: Inertium

Enchantments > Attuned Mana-Nullification; Master Self-Mending; Binding

Equip Item to Left Arm?

Curiously, Shiv used his Biomancy to remove the bone gauntlet on his left arm and tentatively slid his hand in into the Magebreaker. The effect he felt was immediate. His left became a nullified spot for his mana. He could still shape spells and wield his Biomancy with his right hand, but the Woundeater wyrm circling his left arm recoiled off the gauntlet as if a blade parried from a shield. His left arm was practically in a mana-cage—not unlike how his Mask of the False Path was a cage that guarded his mind.

“It’s like a layer of vacuum in my mana field.” Shiv moved his fingers and felt the gauntlet tighten to fit him. That was pretty neat, too. He used his right hand to collapse his bone gauntlet around the Magebreaker, reconfiguring the design of his hand to layer the black, magic-blunting armor with additional supports of adamantine bone.

“Perhaps a demonstration would be more apt,” Lue said. “Hold up your arm, Master Shiv.”

He did, and she unleashed a blade of wind using one of her head-tentacles. The spell crashed against his hand, but gauntlet lashed back at the offending magic, and Shiv felt himself able to push back against the spell with his strength. He knocked the spell off course, and managed to parry it, much to his surprise. “Shit? That’s something. Thanks, Guardshead. This would have been useful for me when I was fighting Harkness. Wait, can this nullify mind mana, too?”

“If the attack comes from a source of attuned mana, it can be seized and struck aside. But be warned: Every magical impact it endures will cause the Inertium to vibrate faster and faster until it hits a breaking point. My tests indicate that it takes around five focused Master-Tier spells to fracture the gauntlet, and it requires around four hours to rebuild itself if the pieces are in the vicinity of each other. Additionally, trying to direct mana into or using that hand is not advised as it will also be regarded as damage.’

Shiv tested his gauntlet again as he opened a cut on his right hand, fed it to a wyrm, and then launched the wyrm at his gauntlet. A splash of crimson mana folded around his left hand, and the sudden force made his arm jolt. He could feel the gauntlet’s vibrations quicken. But more than that, I think I just discovered another means for it. Apparently letting the wyrms break themselves against someone’s magical resistance or a mana-shield might let me avoid needing to take back a wound if there is no one I can inflict the injury on. It is channeled mana, after all, and this thing nullifies it.

Then, Shiv blinked as something occurred to him. “Wait, how does this thing even have enchantments if it nullifies magic?” Shiv asked.

“Attuned mana,” Leu said. “Skills governed and shaped by a lore of magic. Most skills are empowered by mana, but they lack a field…” Leu trailed off as she tried to find a better explanation. “They are self-referential rather than encompassing and metaconceptual.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiv said, acting like he got what she was getting at. “So. No mana field, no problem.”

“In simplicity,” Leu begrudgingly said.

“Okay,” Shiv nodded. “I’m more than happy with that.”

“This item does pose another drawback,” Leu continued. “It cannot be used in tandem with another item that provides Magical Resistance or against someone with Magical Resistance, for Magical Resistance is also registered as an attack against it.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Magical Resistance is a field too,” Tran explained. “It just develops inward. That’s why it still works with other magical skills in the rare cases that a dedicated mage does develop Magical Resistance. It's a fundamentally compact field of adaptive mana that turns into a counterforce against whatever outside magic trying to affect the Pathbearer without their permission. Honestly, I would prefer the Inquisitor’s armor over this. It’s like a full set of armor: More encompassing and doesn’t need you to actively block.”

Shiv opened and closed his hands. “But I told you earlier, Tran. I want to fight. And sometimes, I might want to let a spell hit and hurt me. Gotta feed my wyrms with something.”

“Great,” Heather breathed. “The Orcish Skill is gone, but he’s still insane.”

“And you get to keep the armor a bit longer, Heather,” Shiv quipped. “But I’m still taking it off of you when this is over and you and Tran are safe, so don’t break it.” He then regarded his mask in Tran’s hands. “Hey, Guardshead. You got an enchanting table around? And a kitchen? I don’t see anything in this place.”

“I can arrange for a table to be delivered with haste but… why a kitchen?”

“Because I want the chance to test my Master-Tier Cooking out at least once, in case this whole endeavor against the Jealousy goes poorly. And because it doesn’t feel right taking something from you without some appreciation back. You have any food preferences, Leu? Or allergies?”

“I…” the Guardshead took a moment to right herself, the offer catching her off-guard. “I like, uh, what is that Earth ground-fruit called…”

“Ground fruit?” Tran muttered.

“Radishes,” Leu said. “I would be most pleased to taste some of your cooked radishes, Master Shiv.”

“Alright,” Shiv said, pulling his chef’s knife out of his cloak. “Let’s go find a kitchen. I’m going to need some scallops and brown butter to go with this…”

***

The amount of salt baked into the radishes was perfect. The moisture was perfect. The heat-seared scallops were perfect. The brown butter was perfect—down to the very texture of the sauce. And Shiv’s final hit of inspiration was preternaturally perfect, prompting him to pick out a fistful of bitter seeds and scatter them over the smoking dish.

From the moment he entered the kitchen, a trance fell over—more than meditative, it was a sense of hyper-awareness, of hyper efficiency. Where Culinary Berserker made the world seem like it was burning and exaggerated everything he did in the kitchen, The Chef Unwavering made everything about him seem brighter, clearer, deliver every cut down to the perfect length, helped him keep track of how long certain things had been boiling, burning, and building to that final culmination.

Culinary Berserker was like being consumed by chaos and calamity, and inflicting every bit of that disaster on the food. The Chef Unwavering was all the power of chaos and disaster wrestled into submission by focus and dedication, refining it into an implacable peace.

At some point, Shiv couldn’t tell where he began, and the kitchen ended. The food he made was infused with something from him—a mood, a touch of mana, an imprint of his skill.

The Chef Unwavering > 52

As he filled pales and prepared utensils, he stood off by the side and watched. Watched as the Slayers, the mercenary, and his new unlikely ally looked down at their slightly glowing dishes with varied expressions.

“Should… it be bright like that?” Tran asked.

Siggy didn’t ask that much, she just dug in, spearing a radish and popping it into her mouth. Shiv leaned in closer in anticipation, curious to see just how his Master-Tier cooking would taste for the others. 

A second later, Shiv found himself holding the convulsing Siggy as she practically had a seizure in her chair. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Shiv head Siggy’s head and forced her mouth open so she wouldn’t bite her tongue off. A horrible feeling twisted inside him as he wondered what went wrong. He swept through her person with his Biomancy and—

“Stop!” Siggy said, pawing at his hands. Her eyes stopped rolling, she stopped shaking, and she began reaching for her plate again. “Don’t—I need more! I’m not having a seizure! But I need more!”

As the goblin literally threw herself at the food, Shiv turned to stare at the others. His Dread Aura told him that their courage was shaken, but with how vigorously the goblin was gobbling up her food, Tran swallowed and brought his fork down. “Alright. Shiv. If this kills me, I’m sorry for spying on you.” The moment he put the food in his mouth, he nearly slumped over. “Oh, holy shi—what did… what did you put in this.”

“Nothing,” Shiv muttered. “Just the ingredients.”

“It’s… the best radish I’ve ever eaten. I like it.” Tran paused as he tried to right himself. “And I hate vegetables.”

Heather followed soon after, and Leu was the last. As both of them took their bites, the former found herself bracing against the table for support, and Leu let out a sob.

What did I just do? Shiv blinked.

“Is this what you cooked at Swan-Eating Toad?” Heather whispered.

“Sometimes,” Shiv said. “Depends on the night and the menu.”

Then, Heather burst into tears. “I didn’t go… all those years, I thought you were an Omenborn… that everything you touched was cursed… and I didn’t go.”

Leu shivered in her seat, her head tentacles twitching and spasming. “Food… it should not taste this good. It is too much… too much…”

As the group collapsed into various states of near-incapacitation, Shiv walked over to his own plate and chanced a quick bite. An explosion of flavor, energy, and contentment hit him.

Perfected Salt-Baked Radish with Seared Scollops on Brown Butter Vinaigrette has boosted your Physicality.

Shiv didn’t just feel stronger, he was stronger.

“Holy shit,” Shiv said. “Is this what Master-Tier Cooking does? Is this why people keep coming back to eat what Georges makes even after he literally punches them.”

Shiv took another bite. Still great. Still wonderful. Still perfect. His throat swelled. He choked. “Well. If this is my last meal, I think… I think Georges would call this one not shit at all.”

Notification: The Challenger is amused by your triumph

Shiv ignored whatever the damn orc god was doing and turned to regard the others. “Did you all get… get a boost to your Physicalities?”

None of them replied, they were so occupied with his food that the chef himself had become an afterthought. And because of that, Shiv smiled. If nothing else, he would have made a pretty good chef after all.