A Term That Can Resurrect the Dead [Otherworldly God of Cooking]

The next day.

"Mm."

The stifling pressure on his chest slowly roused Guter from deep sleep. He rubbed his eyes and looked down, letting out a helpless sigh.

"What can I say... Do elves all have terrible sleeping postures?"

At this moment, Serie was tightly wrapped in her blanket, curled up like a small croissant, sprawled horizontally across Guter's body.

Occasionally she wiggled a little, accompanied by her steady breathing—the "old thing" was sleeping soundly indeed.

Bracing his hand against his chest, Guter slid himself out from under her and gently set the "croissant" down.

After throwing on his coat, Guter stood to the side, silently marveling at this "masterpiece" of a sleeping pose for a moment, then picked up a wooden stick to poke at the embers of last night's fire in the hearth.

Confirming the flames were out, Guter looked through the window at the sky outside.

The sun had just risen, and the morning light wasn't harsh yet. If he moved quickly, he'd have time to prepare breakfast.

Carrying a bucket from the mountain cabin in one hand, Guter quietly closed the door and headed toward a nearby water source he'd noted during last night's journey.

This water source was a stream with a modest flow.

Though the flow wasn't strong, it was steady and bathed in sunlight, so the water was clear. Many animals from the surrounding area came here to drink.

By the stream, Guter submerged the bucket to collect water while sizing up the other animals drinking nearby, pondering what to make for breakfast.

That stag?

Not great. Too big—couldn't finish it in one go, and venison is tricky to cook.

What about that little wild boar over there?

Doesn't seem ideal either. The preparation is troublesome, and without enough seasoning in the wild, the gamey smell would be hard to cover.

So what should he go with?

Suddenly, two flashes of reflection in the stream caught Guter's eye.

Got it!

Grilled fish, and he could also boil a pot of rich fish soup.

With the menu decided, Guter tossed the bucket onto the stream bank and crouched down, observing the upstream water, ready to act at any moment.

A few breaths later, as another reflection darted through the stream, Guter's hand shot out like lightning.

"Slap-splash-slap-splash—"

A large river fish thrashed violently in Guter's palm, its slippery body sending up sprays of water, nearly making him lose his grip and let it slip away.

Without stopping to examine it closely, he tossed it into the bucket beside him, ensuring it couldn't escape, then crouched down for a proper look.

"That shape... and the mouth. Could it be a Common Carp?"

Guter judged uncertainly, because Common Carp usually prefer fast-flowing shallows and mountain streams, but they're typically small, rarely reaching even a hundred grams in weight.

But the one he'd just caught had to be at least half a jin—definitely abnormal.

Whatever.

Guter shook his head and stopped dwelling on it. It was food anyway—more meat was a good thing, right?

And so, relying on his exceptionally sturdy physique, Guter crouched by the stream, listening to the water rush and watching for reflections in the current.

Whenever he spotted an opportunity, his hands would dart out like lightning, clamping down firmly on the big fish he'd targeted.

Lost in this focused and joyful fishing, Guter soon forgot about time, his mind filled only with the satisfaction of catching one big fish after another.

It wasn't until the blazing sun overhead scorched his neck that Guter suddenly snapped back to reality—what had he been fishing for in the first place?

Glancing at the bucket completely filled with fish beside him, Guter scratched his head sheepishly, hoping... Teacher hadn't woken up yet.

Mountain cabin.

Serie, tightly wrapped in her blanket, squirmed a few times on the bed, her eyes squeezed shut to resist the sunlight streaming through the window.

But a sudden growl from her stomach forced her consciousness to stir awake against her will.

"Guter... still hasn't come back, huh..."

"Mm... I'll sleep a little longer... just a little..."

"Zzzzz..."

Another quarter of an hour passed before Guter finally returned to the mountain cabin.

Now, of the two buckets, one was filled with clear, sweet mountain stream water, warmed by the sunlight so it wasn't cold, carrying a faint trace of warmth.

In the other bucket were abundant ingredients.

Mostly half a bucket of river fish, scaled and gutted, along with mushrooms and wild greens Guter had picked on his way back.

Setting the things down, he looked at the "small croissant" still curled against the wall and said apologetically, "Teacher, sorry to keep you waiting."

The elf, still with her eyes closed, nodded. A growl from her stomach spoke for her, conveying the teacher's meaning.

"I understand. Please bear with me a little longer, Teacher."

With that, Guter stepped forward, rubbed Serie's ears twice, then washed his hands and went to cook.

Reigniting the hearth fire in the cabin, Guter set a small iron pot over the flames. Without adding water, he first placed several cleaned common carp into it.

As the iron pot heated up, the plump common carp gradually seeped oil from their bodies, releasing a unique, enticing fragrance.

While the common carp were being seared, Guter took out another small pot, set it aside, and boiled a pot of stream water. Using a knife, he sharpened wooden sticks and skewered one cleaned river fish after another, placing them by the fire to roast.

With the spatula from the cabin, he kept turning the common carp in the fish pot, letting them render as much oily aroma as possible without letting them burn black.

"Gurgle—gurgle—gurgle—"

Beside him, with Guter's Flame Magic accelerating the process, the pot of water soon began to steam.

Guter glanced at the fish pot and saw that the fish meat inside had been fried to just the right point.

So, picking up the boiling water pot, Guter poured it straight into the fish pot.

"Sizzle—!"

A boiling sound erupted from the pot. Under the rush of hot water, a milky-white fish soup quickly formed in the pot.

He took the bucket of ingredients again, pulled out the mushrooms that had been cleaned after picking, along with a few wild seasonal delicacies from the mountains, and tossed them all into the pot. He also added two more river fish meant for eating meat.

After covering the fish pot with its lid, Guter, focused on his cooking, suddenly noticed a figure standing behind him, who knew how long.

"Teacher, sneaking up on me without a sound like that will scare me."

But Serie ignored her disciple's complaint. She simply pointed at the fish pot in front of her and spoke.

"If I use magic to raise the flame's temperature, can we eat sooner?"

Feeling the magic surging around Serie, Guter quickly stepped forward and grabbed his teacher.

"No, Teacher. A good pot of soup needs some time to build up its flavor."

"Just wait a little longer. The roasted fish will be done soon. You can have some of that first."

"Fine, then."

With Guter's reassurance, Serie gradually dispersed the magic around her. She silently crouched by the fire, inhaling the aroma of the food.

Seeing this, Guter couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Given the amount of magic that had gathered around his teacher just now, the flames she could release would probably burn straight through the bottom of the pot.

And so, the patient master and disciple sat by the fire. Guter fished out salt and dry rations from his luggage, while Serie distracted herself by flipping through a Magic Book.

As time slowly passed, the once bright sky seemed to grow dim.

In front of them, the roasted fish, seared to a fragrant crisp, occasionally dripped golden oil, making the fire below jump suddenly.

The flickering flames cast light on the silhouettes of the master and disciple.

"Drip—drop—"

It sounded like some liquid had hit the ground.

Guter looked out the window at the sky, which had just turned overcast, and murmured, "Is it going to rain? Good thing I didn't choose to travel this morning."

"The weather at this time of year really is unpredictable."

Yet, even after Guter finished his remark, no sound of raindrops came from outside the window. The gathered clouds only darkened a few shades more.

"That sound wasn't rain?"

Suddenly, Guter realized something. He gently hooked his finger under the Magic Book Serie was holding and pulled it down.

Sure enough, a glistening trail of drool hung at the corner of the elf's mouth.

"Is it really that exaggerated? Making me look like the protagonist of some cliché Transmigrator novel, using good food to pick up girls."

Guter shook his head, finding it a little amusing.

But still, the "old thing" really did look cute like this.

He pushed the Magic Book back up to block the "Old Glutton's" view, then got up to add the final sprinkle of salt to the roasted fish, which were already seventy to eighty percent done.

Adding a thin layer of salt at this point would form a light salt crust on the surface of the roasted fish, enhancing the flavor while preventing the skin from burning.

All that was left was to wait a few more minutes for the salt crust to fully meld into the fish meat, and then they could eat.

With a light rub of his fingers, Guter smoothly and effortlessly sprinkled an even, fine layer of salt onto the last skewer of roasted fish.

But just as he was about to stick it back by the fire, this seamless flow of motion suddenly came to a halt.

Because at that moment, Guter suddenly realized something.

His cooking skills were truly different from when he had first transmigrated.

There had been improvement—and improvement that an ordinary person could never achieve.

Thinking back to when he first crossed over, forget about technically demanding meats like roasted fish—he couldn't even tell if a potato was cooked through.

But now, not only had his judgment of heat reached perfection, he could even sprinkle salt by hand with even, controllable thickness.

"Is it because of that Talent Trait whose effect has never been triggered?" Guter murmured.

[Trait Name: Otherworldly God of Cooking (Blue)]

[Trait Description: A gift bestowed upon you after crossing into another world, granted by an unknown resonance]

[Trait Effect: Influenced by unknown factors, your cooking talent, cooking comprehension, and cooking performance have all been greatly enhanced after your transmigration; moreover, dishes prepared by your hand have an extremely minute chance of producing special effects (restore massive vitality / restore massive stamina / grant temporary endurance boost // revive the deceased)]

"Heh, sounds pretty intimidating when you put it that way. But being blue quality probably relies on empty promises."

Recalling the system's detailed description of that Talent Trait, Guter couldn't help but complain.

Because the system's so-called [extremely minute chance] was truly disgustingly low.

Since Guter's transmigration, several years had passed, and he had cooked plenty of meals himself during that time, yet the [extremely minute chance] of this Talent Trait had never triggered even once.

Guter strongly suspected that the trigger probability of this Trait's effect was even lower than the chance of pulling the current banner character from a box in some thriving game.

And even if the Trait effect did trigger, the odds of randomly landing on an outrageous effect like [revive the deceased] probably wouldn't be much higher than the trigger chance itself.

Thus, Guter only paid it some mind right after acquiring it. As time went on, he gradually stopped caring, even nearly forgetting he still had this Talent Trait.

But.

Judging from how it had made Serie "drool with craving" today, if he set aside its probability-based effects and simply treated it as a [Green quality] life-side Trait bonus, it was actually quite effective.

Handing a skewer of grilled fish—crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, with a salty shell that gave way to the sweet freshness of the fish—to Serie, Guter watched the elf's lips unconsciously curl into a smile of delight as she tasted the delicacy, and thought to himself.