Frontier Chef: My Cooking Skills Are Broken-Chapter 16: Praise the Sun

[ Side-quest accepted ]

> Objective: Befriend the Ossalaka tribe

> Reward: 1,250 Frontier Tokens

> Failure: Human soup

’Fitting.’

The Patriarch hadn’t moved at all. Its yellow eyes locked on Ezra from inside that oversized skull helmet, its horns adding height that the little bastard didn’t earn.

It barked once more, short and sharp.

"Ossa, ossa, ossa!" The staff came down on the stone in rhythm. The tribe picked it up. Forty-something voices chanting in sync, spears tapping rock, the sound bouncing off the bowl walls until it layered into an inevitable crescendo. "Ossalaka!"

The Patriarch pointed the staff at Ezra’s hands.

Then at the sun.

Then back at his hands.

’Semi-sapient but cavemen at heart. A little fire and they go ooga-booga.

I can work with that.’

Ezra raised his right palm and the chanting stopped.

Every set of moony yellow eyes in the oasis locked on his fingers.

He let the heat build slowly—just a steady push, turning the dial from low to medium.

Fire bloomed from his palm. Orange at the edges and white at the center, the flames cast shadows that danced across forty faces.

> SP: 175/180

None of the furballs made a sound.

They stared at his hand the way a dog stares at a treat held above its nose. Ears forward, mouths open. The three toasted ones from the desert had pushed to the front of the crowd, singed fur and all.

Coming back for seconds or front row seats, probably both.

The Patriarch stood in the back. It wasn’t amused in the slightest. That, or it was hiding it quite well.

Ezra let the fire disperse in an arc that nearly scorched the rough eyebrows of the closest audience.

> SP: 145/180

He closed his fist and the fire died.

The Ossalaka tribe exhaled as one, satisfied and entranced all the same.

Just as they were about to bang on their sticks again, Ezra’s stomach growled, loud enough that two Ossalaka near his feet flinched.

"Well, I’m hungry and don’t want to die starving," Ezra said half-willingly. "If you’re going to cook me, at least let me die on my own terms."

The tribe stared on. Ezra wasn’t keen on waiting for an answer anyway.

He spotted the stone bowls along the wall where berries stacked onto each other at careful angles. They were the same Dwarf Bloodberries from the river, or close enough.

It made sense, given these furballs probably went on long scavenging hunts wherever they could.

He walked over and grabbed one, feeling the weight settle into his palm.

The three burned Ossalaka scrambled after him. One of them was already pawing at the bowl, grabbing berries in both tiny fists, shoving them toward Ezra and barking.

"Ossa! Ossa!"

"Oh right, you’re the one I burnt up. You looking for revenge?" They probably understood nothing Ezra said, judging by their scrambling with more berries. "Why even bother."

These three had gotten a taste and now they wanted more. Since the System insisted befriending them, it wouldn’t hurt to find a middle ground with food.

Besides, with his SP steadily replenishing, he could probably easily cook up a few dozen or so.

’Not without giving myself a little boost.’

He held up a berry, charred it, and chucked it into his mouth. The flavor melted onto his tongue and the Sated passive worked its way back into his body.

[ Meal Consumed: Charred Dwarf Bloodberries ]

[ Effects Applied ]

> +25 Max SP

> Passive: Sated (Provides momentary fullness)

> Duration: 25 minutes

If the passive from the berry gave him this kind of energy, it probably did triple duty on these little things.

He charred a second berry and held it out to the closest burned Ossalaka. It snatched the thing from his fingers and shoved it into its snout whole.

Its ears shot straight up followed by its eyes rolling at the white. It sat down in the dirt and made a noise that was probably inappropriate in whatever language it spoke.

The other two scrambled over each other to get to him first.

’Fuck. Here it comes.’

There was no single file. More furballs caught on. Stone bowls emptied. Berries rolled across the ground and tiny paws kicked them toward his feet like offerings at a shrine.

Ezra spread both palms and charred a dozen at once.

> SP: 135/205

He scattered them on the flat stone and the tribe descended.

The tribe lost its collective mind. Half of them were howling and the other half were tripping over the half that was howling. One spun in a tight circle and face-planted into the spring. Another sat on its tail and stared at the sky with its tongue hanging sideways out of its mouth.

Even the ugly one, who had been eyeing the bird girl the entire time, had thrown out all of its disdain to join its kin in the feast.

All but the Patriarch. Its eyes remained fixed on Ezra as if he’d done some terrible thing.

To which Ezra scratched his head and mouthed, "What the fuck?"

Not like he had any say in being here.

[ Ping! ]

[ Skill upgraded: Ember Arts Lv. 1 → Lv. 2 ]

[ Skill upgraded: Palate Arts Lv. 0 → Lv. 1 ]

’Holy shit. I created a drug den. Call me the fucking linchpin of the Ossalaka streets.’’

CLANG.

’What now?’

The Patriarch’s staff hit the side of its own skull helmet and the sound cut through the bowl like a gunshot. Every Ossalaka froze mid-motion.

One had a berry halfway to its mouth and its arm stayed there.

Some were still shaking. A few even burped. One in the back tripped over its own tail going down but had the decency to stay quiet about it.

The Patriarch tapped the staff on the stone three times, each one spaced like it meant something.

From behind the tall boulder stack, four Ossalaka emerged. Broader than the rest, thicker-armed, wearing bone plating across their chests.

These ones moved like they’d been told where to stand before they got there.

They were dragging something wrapped in dried hide.

It hit the stone floor and the impact sent dust up in a ring. The hide fell open.

A slab of meat bigger than Ezra. Dark red, almost purple, dense enough that the surface barely moved on impact. Veins of something painfully rich ran through the marbling and caught the light of the dimly lit torches.

’So that’s what you really want.’

"Appraisal."

[ Dunecrest Bull — ★★★★★★ ]

> Profile: Apex desert herbivore. Extreme muscle density, magically constricted. Flesh resists thermal breakdown below sustained temperatures exceeding current output capacity. Prolonged low-heat rendering with periodic rest cycles recommended.

’Call me a downer but this shit is way out of my league. With my current output, I’d probably give it a little tickle and then pass out from exertion.

In other words, I can’t cook this. No way.’

The Patriarch’s eyes were on him with forty-something faces behind it.

They were waiting for him.

> Objective: Befriend the Ossalaka tribe

’But it never hurts to try. Besides, if I say no they’d probably go ahead and have us on that slab instead.’

The bird girl was fidgeting now, her body still laying near the water. Finally waking up again.

This was the third time she’d been knocked out now, not that Ezra was keeping score.

Well in truth, he was, and it warmed him just a little.

’Regardless, I’d rather die to her than a bunch of furry little things.’

He put both palms flat on the slab and pushed everything he had.