Chapter 21: Bread Baking (Part 2)

Their walk to the dough mixer was quick. Molly stared at the machine with silent wonder; it sat on the stainless steel counter like a sleeping beast, all rounded chrome and matte grey curves, its heavy-duty motor housing hunched with barely contained potential. At its base, a cavernous stainless steel bowl gleamed under the bakery’s light, wide-mouthed and deep-bellied, capable of swallowing five kilograms of flour without complaint.

What surprised Molly wasn’t how strangely foreign the machine appeared, but the white symbols that surrounded the dough mixer, swirling calmly in a jovial dance, especially around its heavy-duty motor.

She blinked, trying to process what was happening, then a spark of realization bloomed in her expression.

The dough mixer was formula powered. Molly’s face brightened further as she examined the control panel jutting from the side: a simple lever to raise and lower the bowl, a rotary dial for speed settings—1 through 6, with six being the kind of violence that could snap a wooden spoon in half. And finally, a digital timer that counted down with a calm, steady tick.

Molly watched as Ted walked forward and poured all the ingredients into the stainless bowl—a careless snowfall of flour, cold butter, yeast barely visible but alive, egg and milk that soaked into the flour, and honey, thick and amber, trailing behind like captured sunlight.

Ted locked the stainless bowl into place, tilting it until it clicked against the chassis. Then he lowered the arm, the dough hook descending like a question, hovering an inch above the chaos below. Once finished, he stepped back calmly, letting Lilly take over.

Lilly glanced at Molly, a smile curving her lips. “This is where your task begins, baker Molly,” she said.

Molly blinked—blinked again as if she hadn’t heard correctly, but upon seeing Lilly’s gaze fixed on her, she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening.

~ Me!!

Lilly chuckled while giving a short nod. “Yes, you.”

Molly fumbled, the tiny particles swirled in unstable motion as she tried to project her shaking thoughts.

~ B-but, I haven’t used this kind of object before. What if I do the wrong thing and end up spoiling everything?

“Don’t be afraid, nothing will go wrong. We’re here, alright,” Lilly calmed her, her voice gentle as a lullaby.

Molly studied Lilly’s welcoming expression. Her gaze drifted to Ted, who gave a short nod in confirmation, his eyes steady with quiet reassurance.

She watched them for a moment longer before giving a nod of her own, her expression brightening into something resolute. She drew a deep breath, her small shoulders rising and falling, and walked forward to the dough mixer.

“Just set it to speed one,” she heard Lilly say from beside her.

Molly glanced at Lilly, gave a firm nod, and returned her attention to the dough mixer. She studied the control panel jutting from the side, her eyes tracing each marking, and with a calm motion pulled the lever to speed 1.

Whir…!

The hook began to turn slowly, almost lazily. It cut a steady circular path through the flour, pushing the ingredients toward the center, then dragging them outward. The scooped butter bounced against the bowl’s walls with soft, dull thuds. The honey clung to the hook’s curve, reluctant to let go as everything began to merge into a single, unified mass.

“At this point, we begin adding water,” Lilly said, glancing at Molly, who was already watching her, eyes wide with attention. “You’ll increase the speed by two after Ted pours some water.”

Molly nodded, her gaze shifting back to the dough mixer as she watched Ted, who stood near it, raise his hand and murmur in a calm voice, “[Water Droplet].”

She observed as the rough white symbols in the kitchen’s air shuddered and drifted around Ted’s right hand, trembling before taking shape. They moved like fireflies stirring from a long slumber, each one seeking its proper place in the pattern.

The first few symbols gathered together and formed the image of a water droplet, crystalline and perfect. Following that, others followed suit until five more droplet images had formed, creating the root. The next symbol to materialize was the structure, which encapsulated the entire arrangement with a circle, binding the components into a coherent whole. Then, like an illusion, the completed formula was suddenly dyed a vivid, luminous blue, pulsing gently with contained energy.

The formula shrank until it was no larger than Ted’s right hand, clinging gently to his finger as he pointed toward the mixture inside the bowl.

Before the water could fall, Ted opened his mouth once more. “[Flame Glow],” he intoned, his voice even and unhurried.

Again, Molly watched the rough white symbols in the air drift toward Ted’s left hand, immediately taking shape with the same fluid precision.

The first few symbols gathered together and formed the image of a fire, hot and burning, its edges flickering even in stillness. The remaining symbols followed suit, forming a point-light shape that overlapped with the fire image, its line pointing outward, creating the root. The structure encapsulated the entire arrangement with a circle, sealing the pattern. Then, like an illusion, the completed formula was suddenly dyed a vivid, golden red, radiating a gentle warmth that Molly could feel even from where she stood.

The formula, like the first, shrank until it was as small as Ted’s hand, clinging to his finger. He angled it so that the warmth would intersect with the path of the falling water, positioning both spells with the careful precision of someone who had done this countless times before.

The [Flame Glow] formula flared brightly, its hot glow spreading only within a confined area, contained and controlled. Then the [Water Droplet] activated; droplets fell from the completed spell, passing through the warm radiance so that the now-heated water cascaded into the bowl in a thin, steady stream—not all at once, but in ribbons, Ted controlling the output of both Tier 1 formulas while watching the mixture with expert eyes.

Molly’s eyes sparkled as she watched the brilliant work of creating warm water. She knew controlling two formulas simultaneously was possible, but she had thought it was a skill only Jen and she possessed. Seeing someone else perform the feat before her eyes, even with low-tier formulas, was still commendable.

Ted glanced at Molly and gave a short nod, which she understood immediately, snapping back to attention.

She looked back at the control panel and increased the speed to 2, her fingers turning the dial with deliberate care.

This was when the true work began.

The hook caught a mass of flour and pulled it under, folding it into the wet patch forming at the bowl’s center. The yeast awakened—microscopic beasts stirring in the now warm milk and honey, already beginning to feast on the sugars surrounding them. The butter smeared against the bowl’s walls, leaving greasy streaks, then was scraped clean by the hook’s next pass, incorporated back into the growing mass.

Thump. Fold. Scrape. Pull.

The hook moved in three dimensions: it rotated around the bowl’s circumference, but also lifted and dropped with each turn, creating a continuous folding action, not just stirring, but kneading. Each revolution stretched the developing dough, then folded it back onto itself, forcing flour into water, fat into flour, yeast into everything.

Water droplets splashed and disappeared, swallowed by the hungry flour. More flour surrendered, its dry resistance crumbling. What had been separate kingdoms, dry and wet, heavy and light, began to unify into a single domain.

Ted dissolved the formulas into nothingness with a thought, the blue and gold light winking out like snuffed candles, and cast another glance at Molly as he gave another nod.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Molly increased the speed to 3; the mixture pulled together with renewed urgency.

A shaggy, chaotic lump formed, still rough, still speckled with unincorporated flour, but cohering, gaining identity. The hook lifted it, slapped it against the bowl’s side with a wet smack, then plunged it back into the remaining dry goods. The honey had fully dissolved now, its sweetness invisible but omnipresent. The milk and egg had done their work, softening the flour’s protein into something pliable, something that could stretch without breaking.

The dough hook soon groaned, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated through the machine’s frame.

Now the mixture was no longer separate ingredients. It was dough, still ugly, still lumpen, but alive. The gluten was beginning to form, invisible strands weaving together as the hook folded and stretched, folded and stretched, a relentless blacksmith hammering chaos into structure, forging order from disorder with every rotation.

“You did well,” Molly heard Lilly say. She glanced at Lilly, who wore a cheerful expression while giving her a thumbs up.

Molly’s expression warmed, a soft glow spreading across her features.