Kalagar S. Sully's words echoed in the sudden, wet silence of the lakeside.
"...We... are going to have... a barbeque."
"...A... a very... very... big... barbeque..."
His five disciples, still drenched from the tidal wave, their hair plastered to their faces with mud and lake-water, stared at the forty-foot, telepathic, god-level sturgeon. It lay before them like a fallen monument, its glowing blue eyes now dim, its ancient, moss-covered form finally still.
Kalagar, for his part, was simply exhausted. He was soaked. He was hungry. He was done trying to have a "normal" day. His "meditative" fishing trip had resulted in the public execution and/of summoning of a minor deity. His disciples, naturally, believed this was the entire point of the exercise.
He trudged over to the one, large, flat rock that wasn't covered in fish-slime, and sat down with a groan. He was a Level 0 scholar. He had just reeled in a creature that weighed, he estimated, twenty tons. His arms felt like over-cooked noodles.
His disciples, however, heard his words not as a sigh of defeat, but as a divine proclamation.
"A... 'barbeque'..." Elara whispered, her [Akashic-Mandate] glowing in her mind as she "indexed" the new, sacred concept. "A... a ritual-feast. To... to honor... the [Worthy Sacrifice]. A... a lesson... in consumption and transmutation!"
Lila, her face streaked with mud, nodded enthusiastically, her earlier horror at "hurting" the fish completely forgotten, replaced by the profound, religious gravity of the situation.
"The Master has judged the lake," she said, her voice filled with awe. "And the lake... answered. This... this Ancient-One... it chose to give itself. We... we must honor its sacrifice!"
Sylvie, the celestial-princess, glided to the creature's massive, noble head. She placed her hand on its rough, mossy brow.
"Its spirit... is at peace," she murmured, her [Samsara] art allowing her to feel the lingering echo. "It knew the Master's hook. It... it waited for it."
She looked at her fellow disciples.
"We must... prepare... the 'barbeque'. It must be... perfect."
Kalagar, who was just trying to wring the lake-water out of his tunic, heard this and just... gave up. He was too tired to fight it. He was too hungry.
"Yes, yes," he waved a dismissive, trembling hand. "A 'perfect' barbeque. Fine. Just... do it. I... I am the 'Master'. I... am 'meditating'. On... 'patience'. And 'hunger'."
He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and pretended to be a wise, all-knowing sage, when in reality, he was just a wet, cranky old man who wanted a fish-steak.
His five disciples snapped to attention.
This was a new combined-lesson. They had failed the [River of Samsara] lesson by working individually. They would not fail this one.
"Disciples!" Elara said, her voice taking on the crisp, authoritative tone of the Archmage-Headmistress she was. "This is a Test of Integration! Boro! The flame! It must be worthy! A fire... of refinement!"
"Yes, Disciple-Sister Elara!" Boro roared, his creative-frenzy kicking in. He was, Kalagar noted with a sinking heart, not just gathering wood. He was pulling... metal ingots... from a... glowing-portal-bag...
"Valerius!" Elara commanded. "The preparation! The Master... he abhors... 'sloppy' work. It must be... clean. It must be... precise."
Valerius, the swordsman, simply nodded. He looked at the forty-foot, mountain-sized sturgeon. He did not... draw... his sword. He simply... held... the hilt.
"The... seams... are clear," he whispered.
He stepped forward. He did not hack. He did not saw.
He... walked.
He walked the entire length of the forty-foot monster, his hand on his hilt.
Zzz-zz-zz-zz-zz...
The sound of a thousand void-zippers opening and closing at once.
He did not cut the fish.
He... un-made... the connections... between... its... parts.
The skin... peeled itself back, in one, perfect, forty-foot-long sheet.
The bones... dis-articulated... and floated... a few inches to the left, assembling themselves into a... perfect, clean, sturgeon-skeleton-sculpture.
The... meat... shivered... and separated... into six, perfect, eight-foot-long, glowing-blue, prime-filets... which then levitated... and settled... on a patch of (hastily-cleaned-by-Lila) grass.
There was no blood. There was no mess. There was just... perfection.
Kalagar opened one eye, watched Valerius conceptually-butcher a sea-monster with zero-effort... and then closed it again.
"How... 'precise'..." he muttered into his chest.
"Lila! Sylvie!" Elara continued. "The offering! The accompaniments! The 'barbeque' is not just meat! It is balance!"
"Yes, Sister!" Lila and Sylvie said in unison.
They... ran.
They ran, with the supernatural, flowing grace of their divine-arts, back up the glowing, automated, 3-mile-long staircase... towards the Samsara Grove.
Kalagar, who had been dreading the 3-mile walk back up... now realized he was stranded. He sighed.
While they were gone, Boro worked.
He was not building a fire-pit.
He was building an engine.
He laid down a foundation of stone. He scribed it with his blue, [True Creation Runes].
[IF: 'Meat' = Present]... [THEN: 'Flame' = Assigned-Temperature-Value(700-degrees)].
[IF: 'Meat' = 90%-Cooked]... [THEN: 'Flame' = 10%-Value].
[IF: 'Master' = Hungry]... [THEN: 'Flame' = *FASTER*]. (This was a new one Boro had added himself).
He then built a rotisserie-spit. Out of titanium-alloy and obsidian. It was... sentient. It was run by his little golem, 'Cogsworth', who was now welding the joints.
It was, Kalagar noted, a nuclear-powered, sentient, self-cooking barbeque-spit...
...to cook a fish.
By the time Boro had finished his [Runic-Convection-Forge-Pit]... Lila and Sylvie returned.
They were... floating.
They were floating a few inches off the ground, carried on a gentle, silver-green breeze of their own life-magic.
And they were carrying...
...food.
Lila was holding a massive, woven-leaf-basket... full... of the glowing, head-sized, divine-grade 'apples'.
Sylvie was holding a crystal bowl... filled with... sauce.
It was a dip.
A *silver-green, shimmering, glowing, sentient-looking... dip.
"Master!" Lila said, beaming, her face flushed with the joy of the 'picnic'. "We have brought the fruit!"
"And," Sylvie added, her voice a proud, silver chime, "I have... prepared... a condiment."
Elara, who had glided over, indexed the bowl.
[Object: Sauce of Samsara. Status: Divine-Grade (Minor). Core-Concept: [Samsara of the First Tree] + [Mountain-Spring-Water]. Effect: Cures all non-conceptual *ailments*. Purifies the body. Tastes... 'zesty'. Origin: Master's 'Barbeque-Mandate'.]
Kalagar just stared at the sentient, plague-curing, divine, 'zesty'... tartar sauce.
"...It... looks... lovely, Sylvie," he managed, his voice a dry croak.
The moment of truth arrived.
Boro and Valerius, with a combined, effortless heave, lifted one of the eight-foot-long, two-ton, glowing-blue filets... and slammed it onto the [Runic-Convection-Forge-Pit].
BOOM. SSSSSSSSSSSSS-T-T-T-T-T-T!
A plume of steam and divine-aroma... exploded... into the sky.
The smell...
Kalagar's eyes snapped open.
It... it was... indescribable.
It wasn't just 'fish'. It smelled like... the ocean. And ancient-forests. And... pure, roasted, concentrated... mana.
His stomach didn't just 'rumble'. It roared.
The [Runic-Forge-Pit]... flared... its blue-flames turning a perfect, white-hot... instantly charring the outside, sealing in the... everything.
The [Samsara-Rod]... (which Valerius had now broken down into five, identical, smaller, 'personal' fishing-rods... as 'souvenirs')...
...Boro... was now using one...
...as a poker.
He stoked the Runic-Fire... with a *stick... of... sentient, life-giving wood.
Kalagar S. Sully just... watched.
He watched his five, god-level... disciples...
...cook.
Boro, the Artificer-God, was the grill-master, his face a mask of [IF-THEN-FLAME] concentration.
Valerius, the Void-Knight, was the slicer, his [Void-Blade] shimmering as he conceptually-diced the filet into *perfect, one-inch-thick, identical... steaks.
Lila and Sylvie, the Life-Goddesses, were the prep-chefs, arranging the 'divine-steaks' on *plates... made of... woven, living, sentient... leaves... and adding a glowing-apple-slice on the side, with a polite-dollop of plague-curing-tartar-sauce.
And Elara...
Elara, the Archmage-Librarian...
...was serving.
She... glided... to Kalagar, her face a mask of serene, academic, divine-butler... joy.
She knelt.
She presented him... with the *first, steaming, perfect... leaf-plate.
"Master," she said, her voice a whisper. "The... Transmutation. It is... complete. Please... accept... the First-Offering."
Kalagar...
...was... so hungry.
He looked at the plate.
The fish... was glowing. A soft, ethereal, blue-white light.
The apple-slice... was glowing... a soft green.
The tartar-sauce... was glowing... a soft silver.
He... he was being served a... *platter... of... holy-light-bulbs.
"...Thank you, Elara," he said, his voice trembling. "It... it looks... divine."
He took the plate.
He took the (Boro-forged, runic-silver) fork.
He... cut... a piece of the God-Sturgeon.
He... dipped... it... in the Samsara-Sauce.
He... put it in his mouth.
...
...
...
...It... was... so good.
It wasn't 'fish'. It was not 'fish'.
It was... energy. It was warmth. It was the taste... of... ancient-wisdom... and deep, cold, clean... water. It was salty, and sweet, and savory, and... zesty.
A wave... a *pure, gentle, un-breaking... wave... of pure, refined, ancient... MANA...
...flooded... his... Level 0... body.
His muscles... which had been screaming... stopped.
His mind... which had been frazzled... cleared.
He felt... twenty-years-younger.
He felt... strong.
He felt... healthy.
His Level 0... talentless... frail, scholar's... body...
...was... instantly...
...purified.
It was still Level 0. It still had no magic.
But it was... perfect.
It was a perfect, flawless, divine-grade, immortal... Level 0... vessel.
The disciples... gasped.
They hadn't eaten yet.
They were watching... him.
And they had all... just watched... as a divine, golden-white... aura...
...washed... over their Master.
They had watched... as his skin... became flawless.
As his hair... (which had been slightly-greying)...
...turned a *rich, perfect, ageless... brown.
They had watched... as their... Master...
...ate... one bite...
...and became...
...immortal.
Kalagar... just... chewed.
He swallowed.
He sighed.
"...It's... good," he said, his voice now... clearer. Richer. Stronger.
"...A... a little... chewy... on the... edges, Boro.
"...But... very... good."
Elara... fainted.
She just... indexed... her Master... ate a god... become immortal...
...and then...
...critique the cooking.
Her Archmage-mind... broke.
She slumped... gracefully... onto the grass.
Kalagar... just... looked... at her.
"...Oh, honestly," he said, his voice now a perfect, divine-baritone.
"...Did I... not... say... it was good?"
He turned to his other, (awe-struck, horrified, ecstatic) disciples.
"...Well? Eat! It's a... barbeque! It's... getting cold!"
He gestured... with his fork.
"...And... someone... get Elara... a glass... of water."