Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 87: Soup of Clarity

"Coral! Wash the herbs! Don’t bruise them, treat them like they are made of glass!" Ren commanded, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

"Yes, Mistress!" The Coral snake scrambled to the basin, scrubbing the strange leafy greens Ren had pulled from her inventory.

"Albino! The fire needs to be hotter! I want a rolling boil, not a lazy bubble! Fan it like your life depends on it!"

"On it, Mistress!" The Albino snake grabbed a large dried palm frond and flapped it frantically at the hearth.

Ren stood at the center of the chaos, wielding her high-carbon chef’s knife like a conductor’s baton. She was in the zone. The stainless steel pot sat on the iron grate over the fire, gleaming like a spaceship that had crash-landed in the Stone Age.

She turned to the stone pantry shelf. In this primitive world, there was no cured ham or sausages. There was only the "Catch of the Day."

A pile of raw, bloody carcasses lay on the cold stone. There were massive, slimy bullfrogs the size of dinner plates, strange scaled fish with teeth, and a few plump, feathered birds that looked like a cross between a duck and a dinosaur.

"Okay," Ren muttered, wrinkling her nose at the raw display.

She grabbed two of the Marsh-Hens.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

The sound of the knife hitting the stone cutting board was rhythmic and hypnotic. Ren decimated the bird meat, chopping it into bite-sized chunks, bones and all for the marrow. Then she turned her rage on the aromatics.

She sliced the ginger and turmeric into paper-thin coins. She smashed the garlic with the flat of the blade, releasing a pungent, spicy aroma that hit the hot metal of the pot with a sizzle.

From the corner of the room, on the woodpile, Kael lifted his head. His ears perked up.

Kael’s glowing red eyes widened. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. The smell cut through the fog of his feral hunger, hooking into the primal part of his brain that recognized sustenance.

Syris, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, was equally captivated. He watched Ren move with fascination.

Ren ignored her audience.

She poured water into the pot. The steam rose up, carrying the rich scent of browning meat and bright lemon. She tossed in the rice.

She needed to stir the thickening broth, but she realized with a start that she had nothing to stir it with.

’System,’ she thought. ’Shop. Kitchenware.’

She scrolled quickly.

[Ladle (Stainless Steel): 15 XP]

’Buy.’

A long-handled, silver ladle appeared in her grip.

The soup bubbled, turning a rich, vibrant yellow from the turmeric. The smell wafted through the damp air.

Kael slid off the woodpile. He didn’t pounce. He crept forward, low to the ground, drawn by the steam. He stopped a few feet away, sitting on his haunches, his tail wrapped around his toes, watching the pot with intense, unblinking focus. He looked like a giant, muscular toddler waiting for a cookie.

"Is it... ready?" Syris asked, stepping closer and trying to look dignified despite the fact that he was sniffing the air just as enthusiastically as the tiger.

"Almost," Ren said. She dipped the ladle, tasted a drop, and nodded. The heat of the ginger hit the back of her throat, followed by the savory richness of the Marsh-Hen. "Perfect."

She grabbed a stack of crude clay bowls from the shelf.

She ladled the thick, golden soup into five bowls.

Ren handed two bowls to the trembling snake girls, who looked at the steaming liquid with wide, curious eyes.

She handed one to Syris.

Then, she approached Kael.

She set the bowl on the floor in front of him.

"Hot," Ren warned, pointing at the steam. "Don’t burn your tongue."

Kael looked at the bowl. He looked at Ren. He leaned down and sniffed it.

Then, surprisingly gently, he began to drink. He tipped the bowl with his large hands, taking slow, measured gulps.

Ren grabbed her own bowl and leaned back against the counter, watching them.

She took a sip.

’Oh god.’

The flavor exploded on her tongue. It was savory, salty, and bright with lemon, with a deep, earthy heat from the turmeric that seemed to seep straight into her bones. It was the taste of healing. The Marsh-Hen meat was tender, falling apart in the broth.

As she swallowed, she felt a physical wave of relief wash over her. The fatigue that had been dragging at her limbs since she woke up evaporated.

Soup was the perfect meal for an empty stomach.

The room went silent, save for the sound of slurping.

The snake girls took one sip and their eyes rolled back in their heads. They began chugging the soup as if it were the elixir of life.

Syris was drinking with his eyes closed, the heat flushing his pale cheeks. He looked like he was having a religious experience.

But Ren’s eyes were fixed on Kael.

The Tiger King drained his bowl. He licked his lips, cleaning off a grain of rice. He set the bowl down without breaking it. He was aware of the heat, handling it carefully.

He looked... calm.

But his eyes were still a glowing, radioactive red.

’System,’ Ren thought. ’Status check.’

[Subject: Kael (The Tiger King)] [Health: 23% (Declining)]

Ren frowned, lowering her bowl.

’It’s still declining?’ 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

She studied him. He was sitting upright. His muscles were defined and strong under his tan skin. He had just eaten with a healthy appetite. He had chased a laser pointer with the agility of an apex predator. Physically, he was a powerhouse. He didn’t look like a man at 23% health. A man at 23% health should be in a coma or gasping for air.

"He’s not sick," Ren whispered to herself. "Not in his body."

She watched him track a fly buzzing near his ear. His movements were sharp, too sharp. He didn’t recognize her as ’Ren’. He recognized her as his mate. Even in human form, he was operating on pure instinct.

It dawned on her with a cold chill.

"It’s a sickness of the mind," Ren realized. "His body is fine. The feral instinct is eating his personality."

If that bar hit zero, Kael wouldn’t die. He would just cease to be Kael. He would become a permanent, mindless monster. A true wild beast, lost forever.

Ren gripped her clay bowl tight enough to turn her knuckles white.

She needed to cure the sickness in his mind. But how? Detox soup could flush a liver, but it couldn’t fix a broken psyche. She didn’t have enough information. She knew nothing about this "Feral Madness".

She tore her gaze away from the red-eyed tiger and looked at the snake.

Syris was enjoying the warmth of the soup, holding the clay bowl with both hands, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him.

"Syris," Ren said, her voice serious.

"Tell me," Ren demanded softly. "Tell me everything you know about Feral Madness."