Wild Gourmet: A Hunt-and-Cook Progression Adventure

Wild Gourmet: Chapter 2

Brand groaned, both in pain and at the prospect of his new class identity. Whatever he had been looking forward to in a new class, he wasn’t sure a chef-based component was part of it. He hadn’t been a cook by choice, though the military had trained him enough to work the class at a basic level.

Worse, he was stuck with it. Whether he took the class just to survive or not, he was stuck with it now. He had to hope that the third time’s the charm proved true here, because if it didn’t, he had no options but to grit his teeth and bear it.

Still, the results couldn’t be argued with.

Eberhund Consumed!

You have gained +1 to your endurance as a result of defeating and consuming the flesh of an enemy. Superior examples of the same prey may provide a larger stat reward, though the value of repeated meals of the same prey are generally limited.

His leg began to clot and close immediately, if slowly. If the wound had been any worse, the most basic of regeneration would not have been enough to keep up with his blood loss, but it seemed his new class would provide just enough healing that he wouldn’t die.

He would still have to eat a proper meal, but for now his class was more important. He gave his leg a few seconds more to recover while he began to examine his class in earnest.

Monster Chef (Level 0)

HP 42/100

MP 10/10

Strength: 10

Dexterity: 10

Endurance: 11

Spirit: 10

Skills:

Butchery (LV. 0), Tracking (LV. 0), Moss Steps (LV. 0)

“Not a magic class, then.” Brand shook his head as he scooted back towards the boar and started butchering it in earnest. His only magic-related stat was Spirit, where a normal magic-using class would have three or four non-physical stats. “Physical is fine, I suppose. Simple.”

The extra point in endurance was important for getting him healed up, but it was also nice to see it was giving him the full ten baseline health points per stat investment that hardier classes usually got. It wasn’t rare to see a class get five, or unheard of to see a class get one measly health point per level of endurance. Ten meant the system expected him to fight, and would help him do it.

The rest of his skills were the basic pair any physical class came with, plus one more he didn’t quite understand yet. Butchery would be a weapon-handling skill, and the new ease with which he found himself skinning and extracting meat from the beast hinted that it might be a bit more than that, too.

Moss Steps would be a footwork skill, and from the sound of it one of the few on the stealthier, more finesse-driven side of things. Tracking was an open mystery to him besides what the name implied. He’d have time to extract its secrets soon enough, should he survive the night.

He cut a much larger slab of meat from the Eberhund with his knife and began to prepare it for a more proper cook. He wasn’t a gourmet sort of chef, but that had never meant he didn’t have standards. He had never been a fancy cook, but he still tried to do his work to a certain level, and barely-charred, unseasoned boar meat was not up to that level.

Taking the slab of meat, he started to carve off thinner slices, each about half the overall depth of his palm. In his experience, higher quality meat deserved to be served thick and rare. Low quality meat like what he had wasn’t the same at all. This meat stunk of whatever herbs and plants the unpicky eater Eberhund had stuffed down its gullet, and a good, thorough cook in his pan would help to get that out.

He pulled his cooking pan out of his pack. It was a small, cheap skillet of sorts, made of such low quality metal he was amazed it hadn’t burned through yet. He wished he had oil to use, since that would cook the meat through a little better and tenderize it. The bite he had before was so tough he had hardly been able to chew it enough to avoid choking.

There was only so much he could do without ingredients, though. He sifted a few edible-looking leaves out of the pile of greens he had cut for the boar and threw them in, hoping they’d further defuse the flavor. After that, he left the slices of meat to cook.

“So I’m a battle class. Sort of.” Brand sat down by the fire and watched the meat cook. “That doesn’t mean I won’t need a base to operate out of. Which means I’m still heading to Bell.”

The city of Bell had been mostly ravaged during the war. By all accounts there wasn’t much left of it. Even so, it was one of the few cities that was even trying to rebuild, a place Brand could make a new start. The war had destroyed almost everything, taking the lives of almost everyone he had ever known even before he was conscripted. Bell had been distant from the last battlefields of the war, about the furthest place from the battle lines Brand had fought.

He had thought he’d make barrels or wheels for wagons. Something like that, anyway, something simple. Now it seemed things would be a bit more complex. He had met rare classers before, back before the vast majority of them had died. More than one had whined about their lives, which was typical for the army canteen Brand had worked in.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

That had given him some clues to what he was in for. Every one of the rare classers had complained about mistakes they had made in their own development, skills they had taken and stats they had distributed in error. There were no guidebooks for the rarer classes, and few people who could give them advice. He was in for a long, unguided road, it seemed.

He patiently waited until the meat was finished cooking, holding the skillet high over the fire and letting it baste in its own juices and fat for as long as possible. He finally took it away from the fire, salted it, and lifted it to his mouth. It really was better when cooked this way. It chewed easier, and where the last bit had sat heavily and uncomfortably in his stomach, the more carefully prepared meat felt just fine.

The flavor had almost gotten where he wanted it to be, too. Despite an almost complete lack of ingredients, the extra work had served its purpose. This was palatable, perfectly edible food, despite the bare-bones nature of the preparation. He was proud of it, at least to the extent it deserved.

The system seemed to agree.

Bonus attained!

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