Jack scratched his chin as he considered his options. There were so many things he could specialize in as a bone carver.

  He had crafted grass armor with bone plates during the Breach, but the process was slow. It didn’t feel like his calling.

  The pendant, though—that had felt right. He reached up and touched it.

  Cobalt Romie Tooth Pendant (Epic)

  A tooth of the Cobalt Romie, beautifully carved. Its extreme hardness makes it practically indestructible.

  Durability:—

  Artistry: 11

  Crafting grade: A+

  Item effects:

  +6 agility;

  +6 intellect;

  +10 stamina;

  +1 fame;

  +1 luck.

  Gear-Grinder: When attacked, the opponent’s equipment loses durability at an accelerated rate.

  A+ grade bonus: +1 luck; +10 stamina; [Gear-Grinder].

  Artistry bonus: +1 fame.

  Requirements: Level 20.

  The Cobalt Romie tooth. Smooth and cool, almost pearl-white, carved into two romies chasing each other around a spiraling tree. It was his best carving yet, both beautiful and powerful, the kind of piece he could be proud of.

  He had a knack for it. Investing more resources in pendant carving could go a long way. And yet, he hesitated.

  The tooth pendant was the first recipe every bone carver learned. If he kept making those, even with rare materials and high quality, he'd be competing with every other carver in New Earth.

  Why waste time on common recipes when he owned rare ones? He had the recipes for the [Blowing Horn] and [Drinking Horn], neither of which he’d ever seen for sale.

  That’s my edge, he thought. That’s how I can make my mark—and some coin.

  Horns were bigger than teeth, sure, but the carving process wasn’t so different. With practice, he would get good at it.

  With a defined goal, he searched for anything available that would help him. It didn’t take long.

  Horn Carving Mastery (Uncommon)

  Level 1 – Cost: 50,000 XP

  Skill description: You’ve grown used to working with horns.

  Skill effects: Slightly boosts item durability and makes horn materials easier to carve.

  Jack took note of it but kept scrolling down, just in case there was something else he wanted.

  Then he spotted a technique near the bottom of the list:

  Scrimshaw (Uncommon)

  Level 1 – Cost: 50,000 XP

  Skill description: A technique that requires a black pigment and enhances the visual appeal of etchings.

  Skill effects: Boosts artistry.

  Wasn’t that one of the techniques the professor had shown him?

  The old man had shown him pictures of museum pieces carved by sailors. They'd etched into whale teeth and darkened with ash or gunpowder to make the images stand out.

  He grabbed his pendant again. The system had given over 10 Artistry points to this piece, triggering its bonus effect. If scrimshaw enhanced his carving and helped trigger better rolls or bonuses, it was worth every point of XP.

  He purchased three levels of [Horn Carving Mastery] and three of [Scrimshaw].

  And just like that, all his butchering XP was gone.

  He admired the upgraded versions of the skills:

  Horn Carving Mastery (Uncommon)

  Level: 3

  Skill description: You move with the grain, not against it.

  Skill effects: Significant durability bonus to all horn-crafted items. Reduces the risk of cracking or splintering during carving.

  Scrimshaw (Uncommon)

  Level: 3

  Skill description: Your scrimshaw tells a story even before it's worn.

  Skill effects: Greatly enhances the artistry of scrimshawed items. Adds a bonus to the finished carving based on the subject.

  He nodded. This would pave the way—not just for better gear, but better income. Jack closed the interface, turned on his heel, and made for his next stop: the cooks’ XP store.

  *

  The Butchering Association and the Chefs’ Association had one thing in common: you could follow your nose to find them.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  While the Butchering Association hit you with a sharp, industrial tang, the Chefs’ Association welcomed you with the scent of freshly baked cookies, hot butter, and grilled meat.

  The aroma pulled him along. He didn’t even notice he’d picked up his pace until he was nearly jogging.

  The building looked like a hotel. It was four stories tall, an oddity in a city where most structures rose only one or two stories. Warm light spilled through tall windows, and a polished brass sign above the double doors read simply: Cooks’ Association.

  NPCs strolled in and out, their pristine white coats crisp.

  Players milled around, too, but even with swords on their backs and shields on their arms, they looked smaller than the NPCs. Even the higher-level players stepped carefully, nodding politely to apron-clad NPCs.

  In here, chefs were the kings—not warriors.

  Jack opened up the description of one of his most recent titles:

  Bush Gourmand (Legendary)

  You’ve had to cook in subpar conditions, and still, through ingenuity and flawless technique, you’re able to serve food that could very well be made into a menu in a fancy restaurant.

  Effects:

  You can now buy certain recipes and skills at the cooks’ XP store;

  Your food buffs last 10% longer;

  You can see the essence of the ingredients you harvest.

  Conditions to unlock [Bush Gourmand]:

  Craft an S-grade meal with only the bushcraft minor.

  He was supposed to have access to new options here—recipes, skills, maybe more. He’d check it out before heading to the Bushcraft XP store. Only then could he decide how to spend his hard-earned Bushcraft XP.

  Inside, the air was warm and rich. Paintings of extravagant dishes lined the walls—glistening roasts, sculpted desserts, platters arranged with an artist’s touch. Overhead, a crystal chandelier refracted golden light across polished floors. Signs hung from ornate brackets, directing foot traffic.

  He passed a hanging placard etched in fine lettering:

  Ground Floor – Novice Chefs

  Stations: Frying, Eggs, Pickling, Stocks, Marinades, Grains, Knife Skills, Presentation

  He paused, frowning slightly.

  Wait… do chefs learn skills and recipes by visiting these stations?

  That didn’t make sense. Didn’t they gain skills the same way everyone else did? By gaining levels or doing quests?

  Seeing ‘Pickling,’ Jack decided to check it out.

  Jack pushed his way through the cooks cruising the ground floor. Major professions really were something else. The crowd here dwarfed anything he’d seen at the Pottery Association. The biggest group he’d seen there was eleven potters.

  Here, he’d spotted well over two hundred—just on this floor.

  The corridor opened up into open-faced kitchens on both sides, each separated by short dividing walls. It felt like the kind of layout you’d find at a large expo.

  The Pickling Station was the third on the right and smelled sharply of vinegar. Jars of every shape and color lined the walls and shelves, each containing something floating inside: vegetables, eggs, cuts of meat, even whole fish. The longer Jack looked, the more unsettling it became. It felt less like a kitchen and more like a laboratory, where a mad scientist kept his collection of dissections—although the poultry laboratory in the Agropastoral Institute was definitely creepier.

  Cooks chopped, stirred, and measured along the counters. One of them added a pinch of salt to a large vat, stirred it slowly, then tasted the brine, frowned, and added a little more salt before stirring again.

  Players loitered around the kitchen. Some watched intently. A girl with a player tag and a white apron was chatting with one of the cooks amicably while taking notes.

  Jack drifted toward a guy who looked around his age, a shortbow slung over his shoulder.

  “Hi,” Jack said.

  The player looked over and raised a brow. “Hey.”

  “Sorry, this is my first time here. Why are people hanging out in a kitchen? Is this where you learn the pickling skill or something?”

  "No, of course not." The archer's mouth curled into a half-smile. “New cook, huh?”

  “You guessed it.”

  “You don’t get recipes handed to you here. You learn them by leveling up. But this place helps.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “It helps you improve crafting grades. Watching these NPCs gives you insight into cooking techniques. Some of the cooks even answer questions if you ask nicely. At least on this floor.”

  Jack nodded slowly, glancing at the busy workers again. Now that he was looking closer, he noticed one cook tapping the side of a jar and waiting a beat before sealing it. Another checked the brine's temperature before dropping in the ingredients.

  These cooks were showing that pickling wasn’t just throwing things in vinegar and hoping for the best.

  As he watched, one chef gently lowered a peeled egg into a jar of dark liquid. For a split second, Jack thought he saw it glow—a faint green shimmer from the egg, a violet hue swirling through the brine.

  What was that? For a second, that egg looked as if it had been imbued. He blinked, but the glow was gone. It was probably just the lighting, or a trick of the glass.

  A loud voice rose from one of the counters. “Oh no! I forgot that garlic always comes after the peppercorns!”

  Players watching shared an excited look at the NPC's hint, and some even took notes.

  “You said that chefs help on this floor. Why is upstairs different?” Jack asked.

  “Down here is meant for novices,” the player said, jerking a thumb toward the ceiling. “Next floor’s for journeymen. More advanced stuff. More demanding NPCs.”

  “Huh. Good to know. Thanks.”

  “Anytime,” the player said.

  Jack stepped away, still thinking. This place was basically a hands-on tutorial hub. Why didn’t people just look up videos online, like he’d done in the Breach? Wouldn’t that be easier?

  Then again, players made tutorials primarily for basic stuff. But as you advanced, the guides got fewer and the streamers stingier.

  Besides, the very first New Earth players had no tutorials available. They’d had to blaze the trail. He bet this place had been packed when the game launched—players crowding in, trying to catch every tip they could to improve the crafting grades of their cooking.

  Hearing that the next floor was reserved for journeymen, Jack went back to the stairs. The XP store had to be on the top floor.

  The steps were covered in red velvet—soft and sound-dampening. But when he stepped onto the second floor, the noise returned in full force.

  The decor mirrored the floor below, but the difference was in the energy. There were more stations, more staff, and more movement. Even the air felt denser, thick with spices, oil, and heat.

  Cooks passed briskly between stations, their hats taller and stiffer than on the previous floor. Some barked instructions as they moved. Jack caught a few sharp phrases.

  “You ruined a perfectly good cut! Wasting food is a cook’s sin!”

  “Y-yes, Chef!”

  A standing sign near the stairwell listed the stations on this floor:

  Deglazing – Marinating – Caramelizing – Tempering – Knife Techniques – Infusions – Emulsification

  My theory checks out, Jack thought.

  Basic tutorials were everywhere online—enough for novice cooks to coast on videos alone. But at the journeyman level, things got real, guides dried up, and players had no choice but to come here and observe—or keep crafting low-level dishes.

  He glanced once more at the floor map, then continued climbing.

  The Expert floor was even louder. It felt like he’d wandered into a controlled madhouse filled with sharp and unapologetic shouts.

  “…how many times have I said to use the low burner?”

  “Your cut is two millimeters off. Two!”

  He could only catch fragments. The rest blurred into a mix of clanging tools, sizzling pans, and culinary chaos.

  A few NPCs strode through the corridor with absolute confidence, dressed in uniforms that somehow stayed spotless despite the environment. Their hats were absurdly tall now—easily half a man’s height—but no one seemed to care.

  The techniques also bore foreign names in elegant fonts—Pate Levée, Riduzzione, Yakitori. Even reading them felt like a test.

  Only one player passed him—a woman descending the stairs. She gave him a short nod as she passed.

  Jack returned it silently. If there were other players up here, they were in the stations, beyond his sight.

  He climbed the last stretch of stairs.

  He had braced himself for the loudest floor yet, but instead, there was silence. Not sterile silence, but a reverent hush, as if he'd just entered a museum or a temple. Even his footsteps felt too loud.

  The signs here were different. They no longer listed techniques. Instead, they bore names:

  Grandmaster Graham

  Grandmaster Anzu

  Grandmaster Gruyère

  There were no crowds. No eager players scribbling notes or elbowing for space. Just a long, pristine hallway lined with kitchens—only three of them in use.

  One stood perfectly still over a plated dish, adjusting something with tweezers. Another rotated a massive roast over an open flame, brushing it rhythmically with a shimmering golden glaze. A third was assembling a delicate tower of translucent, crackling sheets.

  Jack stopped when he noticed the fourth person on the floor: another player.