The fire had long died down, leaving behind a bed of glowing embers. The smell wafting from the buried spot was, well, let's just say my stomach had been filing official complaints for the past fifteen minutes.
I crouched beside the pit and stared at the mound of baked earth.
"Okay," I said, clapping my hands once. "Moment of truth."
Tweety perched on a rock nearby, feathers puffed out against the warmth.
"Proceed, Chef John."
"Right. Proceeding."
I dug my fingers into the still-warm soil and yelped immediately.
"Hot! Hot! HOT!"
I flailed for a second, doing the universal burned-hands dance, then tried again using the edge of a stick to scrape away the ashes. The clay had hardened into a perfect shell.
Sweat dripped down my forehead as I worked, muttering, "In all the cooking shows, they never show this part. They just skip to the eating!"
Tweety chuckled softly, his small chest glowing like coals.
"Mortals are impatient creatures. Patience brings perfection."
"Yeah, well, patience also brings second-degree burns," I grumbled.
Finally, the clay cracked under my stick with a crunch! A hiss of steam escaped, carrying a scent so rich and savory it made my knees wobble.
"Whoa…" I breathed. "That smells… amazing."
As I pried the shell apart, the banana-like leaves peeled away, revealing golden brown chicken glistening with juices. The herbs clung to the skin, and the faint aroma of lemleaf and garlic drifted through the night air.
Tweety leaned forward, beak quivering, eyes wide and glowing.
"John… What is that scent? The air itself tastes of life."
"Dinner," I said proudly, holding up a piece with trembling hands. "Hot and probably undercooked dinner."
I took a cautious bite first, just to make sure it wouldn't kill me. The flavor hit instantly, smoky, tender, juicy, and somehow perfectly seasoned despite my questionable technique.
The Soiya Extract had soaked through the meat, leaving it rich and savory. The garlic and lemleaf balanced the salt, giving it a faint citrusy brightness.
My eyes widened. "No way… It's actually good!"
Tweety fluttered impatiently, sparks flickering off his wings.
"My turn, my turn!"
I laughed and handed him the rest of the chicken..He took it delicately in his beak, eyes half-lidded, then tore off a piece with surprising grace.
And then… something changed.
The little Phoenix went completely still. His feathers shimmered. A faint glow rippled down his body like liquid gold.
"John…" he whispered. "This… this is the flame reborn."
"Uh… that's good, right?"
"Good? No. It is divine."
"The flesh yields like softened ember. The salt clings to the tongue like memory. The scent, it dances between smoke and sunfire."
Tweety's tiny chest rose and fell, his eyes literally heart-shaped and glowing crimson.
"By the ashes of dawn… this is the finest meal I have tasted in centuries. No, maybe in my immortal life cycle."
I blinked.
"Wow. That's…uh..thanks. I think."
He looked up, his feathers puffed and voice trembling slightly.
"To think that such warmth could come from mortal hands. John, your cooking… it moves the very fire within me."
I scratched my cheek awkwardly, trying not to grin too hard.
"Well, I'm glad you like it, buddy. I was worried it'd turn out really nice."
Tweety licked the last bits of sauce from his beak with undignified enthusiasm.
"If all your failures taste like this, then I hope you fail often."
I laughed, the tension finally melting away.
"You and me both."
The scent of roasted chicken still lingered around us, wrapping the clearing in warmth. The stars shimmered above, and the forest seemed quieter than usual like the world itself was giving us a moment to breathe.
For the first time since I'd arrived here, I wasn't thinking about survival or confusion.
Just the crackle of embers, the satisfied glow of my tiny Phoenix friend,
and the quiet pride of a meal well made.
Watching Tweety devour the clay-roasted chicken was both heartwarming and terrifying. Heartwarming because my tiny Phoenix looked like he'd reached enlightenment. Terrifying because he was glowing so bright I thought he might combust again.
Meanwhile, I sat there, still chewing my own cautious bite and wondering how on earth, literally, this tasted so good.
Truth be told, I hadn't expected much success. When I'd seasoned that chicken earlier, I'd used a block of rock salt I'd bought in the market, a slab so big I could've used it as a weapon.
They didn't sell the ground stuff here, so I'd just scratched the surface with a knife, sprinkled what I could, and hoped for the best.
Maybe a bit too much. Okay, definitely too much.
I'd stood over the marinade thinking, this is going to taste like a salt lick,
but I was too tired to start over.
And yet at the first bite it was perfect. Not too salty, not too bland, just right.
Like the chicken had decided to season itself to correct me.
I took another bite, still in disbelief.
"Man… either my skill's doing something, or this world's poultry comes pre-blessed."
Tweety lifted his beak, a small piece of meat dangling.
"Blessed or not, you have created balance. The salt dances upon the flame; the herbs sing upon the tongue."
I blinked.
"You sound like a food critic."
"I am describing a miracle."
"Yeah, well, I call it beginner's luck."
The Phoenix swallowed the last morsel, feathers shimmering faintly.
Then, very suddenly, he hopped off the rock, hovering in front of me with wings spread wide.
"John of the Master Chef skill," Tweety said formally, voice deeper now, echoing slightly through the clearing. "For pleasing my flame and filling my hunger, I grant you a gift."
I leaned back.
"Uh, gift? You don't have to-"
Too late.
A small burst of golden light flared between us, swirling like tiny embers caught in the wind..When it faded, a neat wooden box floated before my face. It looked ordinary, simple brown wood, brass corners, but it gave off that faint magical vibes I was starting to recognize.
I reached out carefully.
"What is this?"
"A Dimensional Storage Box," Tweety said, proud as a cat presenting a bird. "It shall keep your ingredients and tools safe, untouched by time."
My eyes went wide. "You mean… like a portable fridge that stops food from rotting?"
"If those words please you, yes."
I grinned.
"Tweety, that's amazing! Thank you!"
He puffed his chest proudly, glowing faintly from the compliment.
"You have earned it… though I will require tribute in return."
"Tribute?"
"A larger meal next time."
I laughed.
"How big are we talking here? A cow? Two cows?"
"Surprise me," Tweety said with a satisfied chirp, hopping back onto my shoulder. "Keep feeding me as you did today, and soon even the gods will smell our campfire."
"Let's not get the gods involved," I muttered, tucking the glowing box into my pack.
The forest was quiet again, filled only with the soft crackle of cooling embers and the occasional sound of Tweety sighing in post-meal bliss. I leaned back, staring at the stars.
Maybe I wasn't a hero.
Maybe I wasn't even a real cook.
But for the first time, I felt like I belonged in this world with a Phoenix for a friend, a magical lunchbox at my side,
and a chicken recipe worth bragging about.