Mrs. Ashvein was busy sorting through all the ingredients Henry had dropped off. Aenon's request only had one line—Send over cooking ingredients and utensils. No context, no explanation. Therefor Henry assumed that his boss wanted someone to cook for him, possibly for the temporary buffs. He had therefore sent some really rare and precious cooking ingredients that were usually used by experienced chefs across the Multiverse.

The problem was that cooking was no longer just a mundane activity using common items. Even pre-System one could get seriously ill if things weren't prepared the right way. Aenon recalled the Japanese dish his father talked about once—Fugu. It was apparently made using a highly toxic fish, and if not prepared carefully, it could very well be your last meal. A special license was required by law to even attempt to cook it, and it took years to obtain that.

The nut Aenon had picked up was something similar. A rare delicacy enjoyed by many, but only when processed and prepared the right way. It wasn't something to be given to an Adept ranked cook. Aenon watched in despair as Mrs. Ashvein confiscated more than half the exotic looking vegetables and spices. Things he was really looking forward to playing with. By the time she was done, there were very few interesting items left—some bland looking vegetables, odorless herbs, and one very peculiar spice mix that reeked a horrible stench.

Aenon had recoiled when the box containing that herb was first opened. It was perhaps the only item he wanted Mrs. Ashvein to take away. But alas, she had put it in the safe pile. Quite enthusiastically too, as she practically beamed with happiness at having discovered it. She placed the offending box on a pedestal, almost like a treasure.

"Alright," Mrs. Ashvein finally said after her sorting was done. "These should be safe enough for an Adept level chef."

"How do you know my Skill proficiency?" Aenon asked curiously. He had not mentioned it to anyone.

"What do you know about crafting Skills, young man?" Mrs. Ashvein asked with a smile.

"They can be equipped in your Skill slots," Aenon replied honestly.

That was all he knew about it. The book for crafting and trade skills was still in his to-read list.

The wrinkled old lady sat down on a wooden chair and smiled, "Try unequipping it."

Aenon shrugged and obliged but was horrified to discover that he could not do so. He tried every command he could think of, but nothing worked. His desperation must have shown on his face since Mrs. Ashvein continued in an almost sorry tone.

"Crafting Skills, such as Cooking, Blacksmithing, Tailoring, are considered non-combat Skills," Mrs. Ashvein lectured calmly. "And the System handles them differently than combat Skills. For instance, you cannot use SP to upgrade them. And more importantly, they cannot be unequipped."

Aenon's eye widened in horror as he realized the implications. Yet again, he had done something without knowing the full picture, and without asking for any advice.

"Which is why I was surprised that a combat-oriented person like you had equipped a Cooking so early in their career," Mrs. Ashvein said with pity in her eyes. "Combat class holders only equip them when they have mastered most of their Skills they need."

"So, I can never remove it?" Aenon asked with dread leaking in his words.

"Well, not never," Mrs. Ashvein replied with a thoughtful look, giving Aenon some hope. But the hope was snatched away just as easily at her next words. "You just need to reach Savant rank. A task that takes the average man about three quarters of their lifespan."

Aenon's face literally drooped at the revelation. Even though he had four slots instead of two, he only intended to equip cooking as a hobby. He wanted to replace it with a more useful combat Skill later. But that plan was out of the picture now. He could imagine the System Nurse's glare burning a hole in his soul at his latest mistake.

Aenon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. There was no point in crying over spilt milk—or sealed Skill slots. He turned to Mrs. Ashvein with a relaxed look.

"Well, then I better start chipping away at the proficiency," he said with resolve.

"I thought you would be more upset," Mrs. Ashvein asked with a smile. She felt oddly proud of him. "I have seen young adventurers collapse in a heap when things don't go their way."

"I don't like living in regret," Aenon replied with a shrug.

"A wise outlook to life," Mrs. Ashvein replied. But Aenon sensed faint sadness emanating off her, like she understood more than Aenon had intended to convey.

Aenon never really knew his grandparents. His mother's parents had passed on before he was born, and his father's…well they weren't really a part of his life anyway. But he had often heard from his schoolmates that grandparents had a superpower. They could read into a child's mind without needing a lot of words. And looking at Mrs. Ashvein now, Aenon was beginning to understand what that was like.

"Let's get started then," Mrs. Ashvein said as she stood up with difficulty. Talia ran to help her grandmother. The kid was uncharacteristically quiet for some reason. Aenon decided to ask about it later.

The trio gathered before the paltry leftovers from Aenon's treasured cooking items. The sealed box of smelly herbs was right in the middle. And to Aenon's chagrin, Mrs. Ashvein pointed to it first.

"This will be the base of all your cooking recipes," she said with an almost wicked smile. "It has a fancy name, but most people refer to it by its other name. The devil's ashes."

The name seemed appropriate to Aenon. But he was confused about how to use it in cooking. And more importantly, why.

"I know what you are thinking," Mrs. Ashvein explained. "Why would you add something so vile smelling in something you would eat. Well, because once cooked properly the smell changes. And so does the flavor. Your earlier method of adding things based on smell and looks is a horrible approach to cooking."

"It worked for me," Aenon grumbled under his breath.

SMACK

That earned him a cane to the top of his head. But Aenon had detected no movement from the old crone. She in fact continued talking like nothing happened.

"One special property of this mixture is that it tastes different based on how you use it," Mrs. Ashvein went on, not bothering to look at Aenon rubbing his head to ease the pain. "Steaming it will give it a sweet taste; roasting will make it grainy and add a hint of savory flavor. The combinations and possibilities are endless with this one. Which is why its official name is Mirage Dust, for its flavor is ever elusive like a mirage."

Aenon's eyes went up in surprise, his pain forgotten instantly. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. He looked at the box in completely new light. Such a versatile spice wasn't something anyone could have dreamed of back on Earth. It would be a chef's greatest gift. The old lady's reaction regarding the mixture finally made sense. Aenon's earlier feeling of loss was entirely replaced with excitement. He couldn't even imagine the number of experiments he could do.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Here are your first instructions," Mrs. Ashvein said while handing him a note. "There are three separate textures and smells I want you to achieve. The details are written down; you just need to follow it. Come fetch me you are done."

With that the old lady trotted off towards her house. Only when she was out of earshot did Talia start to speak.

"Phew, that went well," she said in relief.

"What did?" Aenon asked in confusion.

"Grandma likes to drone on and on for hours when it comes to cooking," Talia said while sniffing around the box of the Mirage Dust. "And that elusive staff attack is downright devious. I never know which direction she will hit from."

"Hmm," Aenon murmurred before immersing himself in reading the instructions. Talia tried talking with him, but Aenon was lost in his own world while trying to understand what he had to do.

The directions weren't hard to read. Quite the opposite in fact since the old lady had the most precise and elegant handwriting he had ever seen. It was like he was reading an art piece, and not a simple recipe. But the problem was the instructions itself.

Boil a pot of air and add a pinch of dust. Once the powder becomes blue, mix in ice essence. Continue till you get the flavor of light.

"What the hell is this supposed to mean?" Aenon said out loud.

The next two instructions were just as bizarre. What in the world was light supposed to taste like? And how does one boil a pot of air? These looked more like riddles or ravings of a senile old woman. He was about to go ask her when Talia peeked at the list.

"Ah, I am surprised she is making you do that," she said while nodding sagely, as though the instructions made complete sense.

"Wait, you can understand this?" Aenon asked incredulously.

"Yep. Took me a long while to figure it out too," she said before getting distracted by a butterfly.

"What does it mean?" Aenon asked with a frown.

"Sorry, can't tell," Talia replied while chasing after the critter. "Grandma will be cross with me if I do."

And with that, the girl was off like a rocket with no brakes. Aenon blinked in confusion at what just happened. He suddenly got a feeling that asking someone to teach him was a very bad idea. He might have made a bigger mistake in selection of his teacher too. But he was determined not to quit before at least trying.

He asked Nocthrya to seal off the area and prevent anyone from disturbing him. He would solve this senseless riddle no matter what. He still had five more days on his debuff, and he planned to use all of it. He shut off the outside world and dove right in.

Hopefully he could taste light by the end of this uncertain mission.

* * *

Jenny

The sound of dull impacts permeated the cold chilly air. A thin layer of frost had started to accumulate on the ground from all of Jenny's attacks. Frozen blood and sweat caked her head as she gripped her sword tighter and charged towards the Treant. She ducked on pure instinct as a wooden spear shot out from the ground in her blind spot. Even then, it managed to nick her calf muscle making her stumble. She managed to recover and land in a semi defensive stance with her shield held high.

And it was a good thing she did since she felt a strong impact on her shield that sent vibrations all the way to her shoulder. She dodge rolled to avoid the follow up attack and got into a more favorable position. But instead of attacking she dropped her shield and gripped her sword with both hands. With impressive strength she plunged her weapon into the ground all the way to its hilt.

"Ice field," she chanted as a wild burst of mana erupted outwards from her position, covering the ground in solid ice for over 200 feet around her.

She stood up as her wounds froze shut. She outstretched her hands to the sides and summoned twin ice swords with a bluish tint. Her blue eyes glowed eerily as she walked at a casual pace towards the Treant who was stuck on the ground in ice.

Sensing her approach, the desperate creature turned to her and shot more projectiles. But Jenny disappeared in a blur. She dodged and weaved as she moved closer to her opponent. The ice was slick and slippery, but she never lost her footing. Almost like her bare feet were made to grip the ice.

As Jenny reached melee range, the true onslaught began. The Treant tried in vain to dodge as it was immobilized by the trap. Attacking too was useless as Jenny was too fast on her feet. The despairing creature tried blocking too, but even minor cuts from her blades left a lingering layer of ice that grew exponentially with each cut. It screeched in anger and regret as slowly but surely its movements got slower. Until eventually it was encased in a solid block of ice.

Only a tiny opening was left that gave direct access to its core. Jenny collapsed onto one knee, breathing laboriously from exhaustion. She tapped one of her ice swords on the frozen ground, opening a crack through which a tiny root emerged. It slithered its way towards the Treant's core and wrapped around it.

She got a notification which she ignored as she collapsed on the ground like a starfish. Eight figures approached from near her head, but she didn't react, merely resting with her eyes closed.

"Impressive work lassie," one of the dwarves said with pride.

"Bloody brilliant, is what it is," his twin added, equally proud.

Jenny felt something wet brush against her face. The wolf pups—almost the size of regular wolves by now—licked her face before settling down next to her. Jenny dismissed one of her swords, which melted into a puddle, and ran her hand over the soft fur, which had started to turn blue in some spots.

She opened her eyes to find Ignar and his wife standing by her head with folded arms. They had serious looks on their faces, which put Jenny on guard. She started analyzing her fight to see what mistakes she must have made. She recalled some minor deviations from the strict rules her instructors were drilling into her, but nothing that warranted the stern looks.

"Your sword grip after the right counter still needs work," Ignar commented.

"And you ice slashes need to be more focused," his wife added. "You could have ended the fight ten minutes ago."

Jenny began to shrink back when suddenly the couple's expressions changed. They too sported wide smiles as their faux disappointment vanished.

"Good progress though," the fire mage commented. It was the highest praise Jenny had gotten from the strict woman.

"Not bad at all, girlie," Ignar added. He lifted a hand and broke away some ice flakes that were beginning to form. "Though it seems this area attack affects even your allies. And the fact that you can't dispel it till the entire duration is up can be problem on an actual battlefield."

"True," Velastra added, the only one unaffected by the ice. "You need better control of it and need a way to counter fire mages."

"Bah," the dwarf next to Velastra waved her off. "An un-Awakened fire mage will need a powerful fire staff to handle this. Don't listen to the nay sayers lassie. You are doing fantastic."

"Which is why she needs to learn to counter Awakened fire mages," Velastra shot back with a frown.

Jenny chuckled weakly as Velastra and the twins started having a heated debate about her abilities. She ignored them and closed her eyes. But she opened them again when she felt the enormous giant of a man sit next to her. He was cross legged and observing his bickering party with a smile. At some point during the debate, spells started flying around as the trio discussed spell theory in their own way.

"Thanks, Ignar," Jenny said softly while keeping her eyes on the flashy spells.

"Hmm?" Ignar asked without looking at Jenny.

"For showing me the ropes," Jenny elaborated. "I know it wasn't easy holding yourself back for my sake, especially after the power boost from your Awakenings."

Ignar finally turned to look at her with a warm smile. He placed his ginormous hand on her head and rubbed it affectionately.

"Watching an apprentice grow on their Path is a reward unlike any other," he said kindly. "A dedicated student like you is every master's dream."

Jenny's smile lessened at that comment. She turned towards Reality's Edge with a sad look.

"What's wrong," Ignar asked with a frown.

"It's Aenon," Jenny said wistfully. "I really wish he would also find some proper guidance. He is powerful, no doubt. But he takes too many unnecessary risks because of his damn stubbornness."

Ignar too turned towards where Jenny was looking. He was silent for a bit before chuckling.

"Don't worry about our fearless, and sometimes irrational, leader," he said with humor. "He'll be just fine."

"How can you be so sure?" Jenny asked with hope.

"Fate always has special plans for thick headed fools like him."

"You want to leave it up to luck?" Jenny asked incredulously.

"Fate and luck are different," Ignar said while shaking his head. "Luck is what weak fools blame when things don't go their way. Fate is…more abstract of a concept. It's rooted in karma."

"Karma?" Jenny asked with confusion.

"A topic for another time," Ignar said with a wave. "For now, rest assured that he will be okay. The Multiverse is unfathomably large. Who knows, he might find a proper teacher who would give him a run for his money."

Unbeknownst to Ignar, his divinatory words were coming true at this exact moment as a certain ruthless predator was wracking his head in trying to figure out what light tastes like.

While a wrinkled old lady observed him with a gentle smile.

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