The Savage Skillet: Fresh Meat Book 1: A Isekai Litrpg Slice of Life Monster Adventure by Kaelix Vexquill

Author:Kaelix Vexquill [Vexquill, Kaelix]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-12-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The ice was a mirror. A perfect, cruel, high-definition mirror.

Dominic stood before the glacial wall, his breath misting on the surface. For the first time since waking up in the Festering Larder, he stopped moving. He stopped planning. He just looked.

The man staring back at him wasn't Dominic Cross, Executive Chef.

The man in the ice was a wreck. His double-breasted Egyptian cotton jacket, once the envy of the culinary world, was a stiff, stained tapestry of filth. Green slime from the sewers, black ichor from the Rot-Goblins, and red splatter from the Spore-Wolf matted the fabric. His face was gaunt, smeared with soot and dried sweat. His eyes were bloodshot, sunken deep into his skull.

He looked like a savage. He looked like the kind of man he would have thrown out of his restaurant for scaring the customers.

"Disgraceful," Dominic whispered, raising a hand to touch his reflection.

He tried to brush a clump of dried moss off his shoulder. It didn't move. It was embedded in the weave.

He stood there for a long moment, the silence of the Walk-In pressing against his ears. He thought about L'Obsidienne. He thought about the crisp white tablecloths, the polished silverware, the quiet dignity of a perfectly run service. That world was gone. It was a memory of a ghost.

Dominic lowered his hand. He looked at the Rusted Iron Shiv gripped in his fist. The blade was ugly, pitted, and mean. It wasn't a tool for creation. It was a tool for dismantling.

"Fine," Dominic said to the reflection. "If the kitchen is dirty, we cook dirty."

He grabbed the left sleeve of his chef’s coat, right at the shoulder seam. He jammed the point of the shiv into the fabric and ripped.

Rrrripp.

The heavy cotton gave way. He tore the sleeve off completely, exposing his bare arm. He did the same to the right. He ripped the high, stiff collar away from his neck, letting the air hit his throat.

He looked at his arms. They were covered in old burn scars—the "kisses" of ovens past. They were thick, hairy, and covered in dungeon grit.

He took the tattered strips of his sleeves and wrapped them tight around his knuckles, biting the ends to tie the knots. Hand wraps.

He looked at the reflection again. The Chef was gone. The Butcher remained.

"Garnish," Dominic said, turning away from the ice. His voice was quiet. Deadly. "Bring the stove."

The party was huddled behind a stalagmite. They watched Dominic approach with wide, fearful eyes. He looked different. Smaller, without the bulk of the jacket, but denser. Dangerous.

"We are thawing the beast," Dominic announced. He set the Magitech Portable Stove on a flat rock directly beneath the Hydra’s frozen chest.

"With a stove?" Valerius whispered. "Chef, that is a camp burner. It won't melt a glacier."

"It will if we spice it up." Dominic pulled the handful of Boom-Shrooms from his pouch.

He didn't throw them. He dropped a pat of rendered Spore-Wolf fat into the pan. He lit the burner. The blue mana-flame hissed.

Dominic sliced the volatile mushrooms.

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