Path of the Deathless 126 (I) Competition

"I'm not sorry, father! He deserved it! He deserved every second of the pain I gave him! I should have hurt him more! More!’

"I'm not asking you to be sorry. I'm telling you to be controlled. Are you a Pathbearer, Adam?"

"Yes."

"No. If you were a Pathbearer, then you know that what he said couldn’t be forgiven—but the magnitude of your retribution should have been controlled! You must take responsibility for your actions, but you also must feel their weight and choose the wisest option! The right choice! Always. The burden is impossible, but we must bear it. Because if not us, who will?"

"He said things about Mother."

"I know what he said, and that's why I do not bla you for your emotions, but condemn your actions. Do you think it doesn’t bother to hear your mother invoked this way? It does. I want to kill him for what he said. But I'm also over my emotions. And I choose what to do with my anger. You beat him, Adam. You beat him in a sanctioned duel. He was humiliated and broken. But you kept going even after the match ended. You—It is only by my na that you are not suspended, or worse. My na, and Captain Irons’s direct intervention.”

“What? Captain… Why?”

“Because he knows the cost of falling. Of letting our anger win better than even us. And he moved to spare you what happened to him. Adam… Co here. Co here. Let hold you. There. Listen to . I know. I understand. I am angry too. But we must be better than our enemies. We must be greater than our wounds. We must. It has to be us. There’s already too much darkness. Soone must bear the light. Soone must do the right thing—no matter what it costs their heart. Otherwise, the price only grows. And so does the pain.”

-Adam and Roland Arrow

126 (I)

Competition

Band didn't cook like a chef, but rather a conductor guiding an orchestra of dinsionals in a marriage of musical and culinary artistry. Fire, air, and water dinsionals erged from pockets of vibrating Dinsionality—vibrating because they were summoned forth from the shivering strings of Band’s violin. The dinsionals ford a small whirlwind around Band, carrying him aloft at the eye as a maelstrom of ingredients hovered around him.

At the very bottom of the whirlwind were the fire dinsionals. They channeled heat and infused it into the various ingredients hovering above them. The air dinsionals guided the cooking materials on their path, spinning them in the air as if a belt of asteroids. Beyond that, the air dinsionals also ford veils of protection around the more vulnerable ingredients—shielding the mushrooms from any spillover heat. Finally, at the top was a small army of water dinsionals who unleashed sprays of moisture to help so of the ingredients retain texture and maintain moisture.

Shiv observed his new rival with consideration. Band was an interesting chef. He wasn't directly cooking himself, but he had his eye on every single ingredient in flight, and with a few pulls on his violin, he guided his dinsionals toward the completion of the side dish. Air dinsionals carried the vegetables through the air. Fire dinsionals seared cauliflowers and only singed the mushrooms. The glass peppers were entirely spared—to be placed around the outside per Shiv’s earlier orders for both aesthetic and taste-related reasons.

Not everyone wanted peppers, but if one wanted a bit more sting on their palate, it was just a bite away.

As the violin-wielding orc did a turn in the air, he winked at Shiv. From behind a curtain of hovering cauliflower and simring mushrooms, Shiv shook his head as he called out to Tequila. "Sauces, are they ready?"

"Co take a look for yourself, Insul," Tequila said with a loud chuckle.

The orc had both his wands out, but what Shiv noticed first was how thoroughly stained Tequila's apron was. It had the deep purple of loom grape juices painting its bottom, while its center was dappled in splashes of orange. Before the orc were two massive containers. They were translucent and plastic, originally used to store the raw mangoes and loom grapes before they were probably pulped and made into paste.

Originally, Shiv guessed Tequila would move the mangoes and loomgrapes into other containers they had nearby. But instead, and with a few re gestures from his twin wands, the forces of physics perford Tequila's work for him. Claws of gravity ca down, not hard enough to crack the containers, but just enough to sar the fruits into a fine, powdery paste. The orc drew circles in the air with his wands, and his Dynamantic field began to churn. They went from fruit to paste as the mass of loomgrapes beca a thick curdle of deepest purple while the mangoes shone a near-gold beneath the mana core’s light.

As this went on, Tequila kicked out with his foot several tis, and Shiv wondered why. He got his answer a mont later, as, with each kick, the mango seeds started shooting out from the viscous mixture. The seeds blasted skyward a dozen at a ti, and each of them was stacked together, vertically at first and horizontally thereafter. Soon they hovered above Tequila, and Shiv wasn’t sure what the orc was doing.

Then, each of the seeds began to twist and wither into dried-out clumps. The moisture ripped out from them, condensing into a dense sphere of water.

Tequila grinned. "Saves a little bit of Hydromancy later."

"Hydromancy?" Shiv asked. He examined the orc's mixture. The paste looked fine. It glowed soft and pale—The Chef Unwavering was pleased. There was nothing wrong with the paste. “It’s moist enough.”

"Not for the sauces. For the rice wine." Tequila chuckled. "I'm just waiting on so rice. Now, where’d that goblin run off to… Said she’d be back soon…”

Shiv wasn't sure how the orc intended to fernt the wine in such a short period of ti, but he grunted and called Whisper over.

"Here, chef," Whisper said. His expression was entirely controlled. A little too controlled. Shiv’s scolding had Whisper on his best behavior, and Shiv thought he could make use of that.

"You're going to help portion the at," Shiv instructed. "Here's what we're going to do. Leanest at on one side—no fat there. Those are going to be our pure-flavored ats. Grape or mango. Then, section out the other at based on fat. They will be our mixed-flavored ats: mango paste on the outside, loomgrape within. Got it?”

Whisper nodded. "Of course, Deathless. Is that all?"

"For you," Shiv grunted.

Whisper frowned slightly. “I apologize for getting carried away earlier—”

“We’re done talking,” Shiv said, walking away. “To the task.”

Mortar let out a mocking sigh. "Oh, Whisper, look what you've done. You managed to talk yourself out of a proper job. Wait, you didn't talk to him this ti. You just acted. That’s the kind of mistake I would make.”

Whisper scowled at Mortar. “Yes. I did. I suppose you always bring out the worst in , Mortar.”

The large orc regarded his stealthy counterpart and sneered. “You gonna do sothing about it or just bitch?”

This tale has been pilfered from . If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Knock that shit off,” Shiv called out. “We’re cooking. Not fighting. Keep it separated.”

"Yes, Insul," Whisper said.

"Got it, Chef," Mortar agreed.

The two orcs briefly shared eye contact and bared their jagged teeth at each other.

Tequila just giggled. “Ah. Classic Clique warfare.”

Shiv stared at the sauce-mixing orc. “What?”

“Cliques. Orcs have their own separations as well.” Tequila shrugged. “Most of us belong to one philosophy or another. And being of a philosophy puts you at odds with another.”

“Huh,” Shiv said. That’s interesting. I should rember that. Might explain why the orcs are sniping at each other sotis. Or maybe it’s just bullshit. Could be anything—they’re godsdamned orcs.Either way, there’s history between Whisper and Mortar. Ugly history.

As Whisper departed to help Shiv portion the at, the Deathless looked in Band’s direction and nearly did a double-take. Streams of well-roasted cauliflower soared through the air, guided by the currents of air. At the sa ti, water elentals ran their whip-like limbs across the cauliflowers. So were infused with a bit more moisture, and others had moisture taken out. Shiv could feel how thoroughly the vegetables were cooked through his Biomancy.

The finished cauliflowers began to spill down into a large ceramic cauldron, so hundred ters wide. After that ca the glass peppers, glistening bright after administrations of moisture by the water elentals. Finally, the mushrooms fell as well, with columns of smoke rising from them, releasing a hearty, earthy aroma in the air.

With that, Band pulled on his bow a final ti, and his dinsionals scattered, spreading across the sky and awaiting further instruction. The orc dropped in front of the ceramic cauldron and grinned. “Done.”

Shiv hadn't expected this. He thought it would take Band far longer to complete the side dish, but when one could summon an entire kitchen staff of dinsionals using a violin, progress was quick.

"Not bad," Shiv said.

"New. Task?" Band said, showing his pointed teeth in a large smile.

"Yeah," Shiv replied. "Have one of your dinsionals keep the side dish warm. You help on main. Then we talk.”

“Only. If. Food. Isn’t. Shit.”

Band gave Shiv another broad grin, but his gaze was filled with a slight hint of provocation. He gestured at his fire dinsionals, and he pointed at the side dish. One of them hovered over the bowl and unleashed thick waves of heat to keep the cauliflowers, mushrooms, and glass peppers in pri condition.

Just then, a blade tapped Shiv on the shoulder, and he turned. He saw a small swarm of gleaming knives sorting the basilisk at in neat rows. The entire rearrangent took re seconds, and so fine was Whisper's control over the weapons that he used their flat sides to pick the at up and move them around. Soon, the leanest ats were stacked high at the front while the fattest waited at the back.

"It is done," Whisper shouted. He held his arms behind his back, and Shiv gave him a brief nod.

I’m going to ask him just want kind of Knife Proficiency Skill Evolution this is.

“Good job. You’re on standby. I'll call you when there's a need. If anyone else needs help with anything, you call out to Whisper too.” Shiv looked at the other orcs and waited to see how they might respond.

"Oh, Whisper," Mortar said imdiately. "There's sothing you can help with."

"I'm not sticking my head down your throat, Mortar," Whisper replied dryly.

"Chef!" Mortar grumbled. "Chef, I think this one needs to be thrown out; he's not being part of the team.”

Shiv ignored Mortar's comnt as he turned to stare at the mixtures. There was mango and loomgrape paste. Both tasted different. Both had an exquisite flavor. The mango was sweet, and when properly heated, it would create a slight crusty coating over the at that should crack upon being bitten. Most of it would sink deeper into the flesh and seep in there as well. This made it ideal for the leanest at. The loomgrape was the sa, except it had a sour aftertaste.

But there was a problem with mingling loomgrape and mango—they both had different temperature thresholds. He couldn’t just mix them casually. The fat in so of the at would also catch the mango paste, preventing it from achieving a full infusion. anwhile, the loomgrapes were of a lesser thickness and often seeped through fine. Shiv learned this fact back at the Swan-Eating Toad. Mixing different condints and seasoning was dangerous business. It was very easy to throw the taste off after getting sothing wrong.

But now that he was a Biomancer, he could reshape the at. His current plan was to shift the fat around and have it choked full of loomgrape. The outside could remain dominated by the mango paste. This allowed a full spectrum of flavors, while the fat served as an insulating layer for the loomgrape as well.

This allowed for a perfect fusion in Shiv’s opinion. The loomgrape was sweet on its own, but it also had so sour in the aftertaste, allowing it to synergize with both the mangos and at. If done right, it could beco an evolving flavor, sothing that danced upon one's tongue with each bite. But it needed to be done perfectly to truly reach its flavorful potential.

Shiv explained what he wanted done in detail to Band and the other orcs, and they followed along, offering grunts of acknowledgent. And while Shiv spoke, he observed Band’s features. Slowly, that taunting look in the orc's eyes faded, and a sense of focus erged thereafter in the form of a glare.

"Is there sothing wrong, Band?" Shiv asked. He looked at the stacks of at glistening and at the ready, at Whisper standing by, at Mortar still heating the Skysplitter with puffs of Pyromancy.

"No. Chef," Band replied. "But. al. Hard. To. Make. Easy. To. Be. Shit.”

"Of course it is," Shiv said in agreent, "but that's why we do it right, to make art from food. Otherwise, why move beyond scrambled eggs?"

"Why. Indeed," the orc replied. And he gave Shiv a genuine smile right after. “Fine. Do. The. Hard. Do. The. Art.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Shiv smirked. He rembered what Angel had said to him, as he considered just what it took to advance his skills. Strain, challenge, complexity. And to Shiv, the sting of failure was an acceptable bitter taste compared to the foul, fetid stench of diocrity. He was going to be a Pathbearer on the battlefield and in the kitchen as well. If he was going to accept mundanity, he would have stayed a Pathless mortal.

"But if you think it's too difficult, you can step back. I'm not going to force you to perform beyond your level," Shiv said, taunting Band slightly.

The orc’s eyes beca pinpricks of yellow. He pierced Shiv with a stare. "Bastard."

The Deathless laughed. He learned sothing about Band—the orc was pretty happy to bite, but not so receptive to being bitten in return.

Yet, before they were about to begin, a voice called out in interruption. A familiar voice.

"Right, hold up, hold up!" Siggi cried. She let out a loud grunt as she and several other Pathbearers lugged a large crate of so kind that ground across the floor. The sounds of wood splintering filled the air.

Shiv blinked. "Siggi, what the hell are you doing here?"

"What do you an, what the hell am I doing here? I got so of our rice over from the camp! This guy said he was going to make us so booze!”

That's when Shiv noticed how large his audience was. Previously, it was only Adam, Uva, so Umbrals, a few Weaveresses, and a couple of rcenaries. Now, there were well over fifty people nearby, observing this culinary adventure.

"Where the hell did all of you co from?" Shiv muttered.

As soon as he said that statent, all four of the orcs tilted their heads.

“A bit too overfocused, aren’t we, Chef?” Whisper said. There was a hidden threat lurking in the orc’s words.

Shit. I need to keep my guard up. They’re gauging for weakness even now. They probably have a guess about my Awareness being lacking. Not great.

Shiv shook his head. There was nothing for it now. He still needed to finish this al. Just then, Tequila waved his wand, and the top part of the crate blew off. Siggi flinched back as the orc rushed over.

“Wonderful!” Tequila called out. Then, with a wave, the water he'd squeezed out from the mango seeds ca splashing down. “Now. To fernt this thing quickly…”

“Siggy,” Shiv said. “When did he ask you to bring this over?”

“Earlier,” Siggy said. “While you were staring at the dinsionals roasting the cauliflower and stuff.”

Shiv blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Siggy said.

"You were busy watching Band's troupe perform." Tequila grinned as he began casting spells into the water. "It was a good performance, so I don't bla you for being distracted.”

"No, it wasn't," Adam snarled off by the side. "And you were whispering. You threw a pebble at her to get her notice.”

Tequila ignored the Gate Lord. “My sauces are done. Permission to begin mixing my rice wine, oh, Deathless one?"

Shiv slowly gave the Orc a nod, too stunned to do anything else. Man, I really zeroed in on Band. I need to level my Awareness more. Speaking of Band…

Shiv stared at Band and cracked his neck. "Alright, Band, you ready? You know what to do?"

"Yes," Band said. "You?"

Shiv chuckled humorously. "All right, smartass, let's do this."