Master Chef

Today, I decided it was time to make Lilia cook something new. Something they had never tasted before. This world… didn't have pizza. Or burgers. Or anything even remotely modern.

But I did.

After countless days of learning letters and scribbling out instructions, I felt ready. Confident. Even as a barely three-and-a-half-year-old, I was hailed as a super genius now. A prodigy.

Lilia stood in the kitchen, watching me as I clumsily pronounced my ideas in awkward, childlike syllables. "Lilia," I said, trying to sound out my plan. "Pizzzzz-uhhh... Peets-uh... No, wait! Pizzzza!"

Lilia's brow furrowed, clearly unsure, but she nodded nonetheless. "Pizza?"

"Yes! Pizza! Bread, sauce, cheese, toppings! You make it… bake it, eat it!"

With each clumsy word, I felt the weight of expectations building around me. Zenith and Paul hovered nearby, smiling nervously, as if unsure what I was attempting but too proud to stop me.

Lilia furrowed her brow once more, but then, with an air of quiet determination, she began to prepare the dough.

Despite my tiny hands and clumsy pronunciation, I described in detail every step of my creation. "Flour! Yeast! Water! Salt! Knead! Knead! Dough!"

She listened, following each instruction as best she could, her movements slow but methodical.

Finally, the dough was rising, the sauce was simmering, and the cheese... oh, the glorious cheese.

An hour later, the smell of something entirely new filled the house.

I stood by the table, my tear-filled eyes shining with pride, as I watched Lilia pull the tray from the oven.

They loved it.

Paul and Zenith took one bite and their faces lit up with delight. Paul, wide-eyed and chewing, looked at me in astonishment. "This… is pizza?" he asked.

Zenith, hands on her cheeks, nodded fervently. "It's delicious! How did you—how did my son…?"

Tears streamed down my face as I dug into the slice. It was nothing like the garbage they usually ate.

"This is it," I thought, my mouth full of cheesy goodness. "My first project— a success."

Now, they hailed me as the creator. The one who had brought forth something from my old world. They no longer saw me as a mere child, but as a Super genius.

And I wasn't done.

If I could create pizza, I could create more. Next? Spells. Potions. Ancient incantations that would rival the greatest mages of this world.

I will craft them all. One day, I would leave this place, not as a child, but as the master of both worlds.

For now, I ate with tearful eyes, savoring the taste of my triumph.

Ī~Ī

Then came burgers, nuggets, rolls, sausages, hotdogs, sandwiches, chicken chops, momos...

One by one, my creations took form, and before long, I was a self-proclaimed master dishmaker.

Paul, Zenith, and Lilia couldn't get enough. Every week, they pestered me for a new recipe, and every week, I delivered. My hyperactive (pro max) imagination turned the mundane into the spectacular.

Years from now, people will write tales of how I, Rudeus Greyrat, began my legendary journey—not as a warrior or mage—but as the culinary savant who revolutionized this medieval backwater.

For now, I was just a child… with a flair for the dramatic.

Then came the day. Zenith, with her warm smile and patient demeanor, decided it was time.

"Rudy, it's time for you to learn magic!" she announced.

Finally! My moment had arrived. I was practically vibrating with excitement as she led me outside to a small patch of dirt near the house. Paul and Lilia watched from a distance, both curious and slightly concerned.

"Watch closely, Rudy," Zenith said, crouching down. She extended her hand, palm facing a little tree, and whispered, "Pani."

Water flowed from her hand in a graceful arc, sprinkling the tree's roots.

"See? Easy!" she beamed, gesturing for me to try.

I stared at her, deadpan. Bruh, who needs spells?

Why should I, a prodigy, do something so... basic?

I stepped forward, determination etched into my tiny face, and extended both hands. This wasn't going to be a measly trickle. No, I was about to show them real magic.

"Rudy, wait!" Zenith cried, but it was too late.

I focused all my energy, imagining water bursting forth in a grand display. My hands tingled, my heart raced, and I shouted with all the authority a three-year-old could muster:

"PANI!"

The ground rumbled.

Zenith screamed.

And then... it happened.

Not from my hands, oh no. That would've been too simple. Instead, water poured down from the sky.

Buckets. Torrents. An unrelenting deluge that drowned the little tree and turned our backyard into a swamp.

"RUDY!"

Three days later, it was still raining.

Paul had to climb onto the roof to fix leaks. Lilia spent hours drying everything. Zenith? She sat me down and gave me the talk.

No more magic.

Not until Paul said so.

What a bummer.

As I sulked in my room, watching the rain continue to soak the world outside, I made a vow. This wasn't over. I would learn magic—properly this time—and I would master it.

But for now? No more spells.

Sigh.

Ī~Ī

Three weeks later, I was granted another chance to prove myself.

The excitement was palpable as Zenith cautiously led me back to the same patch of dirt. This time, though, Paul stood nearby with his sword—just in case. Lilia had stationed herself on the roof, ready to yell if the clouds looked suspicious.

"Okay, Rudy," Zenith said, her voice equal parts encouragement and warning. "This time, focus on control. A small amount of water is enough. Just like this…"

She repeated the demonstration, the perfect little arc of water trickling gently from her hand.

I nodded solemnly. "Small. Got it."

Inside, though? I was determined to wow them. Who needs baby streams when you can have mighty rivers? But, okay, fine. Small. For now.

I extended my hand, squinted at the tree, and whispered, "Pani."

Water bubbled at my fingertips. Yes! Progress! I concentrated harder, imagining a steady flow—nothing too dramatic.

But then, of course, I got carried away.

"More…" I mumbled, pushing my magic further.

"Rudy, stop!" Zenith cried.

It was too late.

Water erupted, not from my hand this time, but from the ground itself, like a geyser. The poor tree was uprooted and swept away by the ensuing flood. Paul cursed, grabbing me and holding me above the rising water like a trophy.

Thankfully, it only lasted a few minutes. When the water finally receded, the backyard was a muddy mess, and the nearby crops were...well, let's just say the villagers were not happy.

That afternoon, an angry mob gathered outside the house, pitchforks in hand.

"Bring out the devil child!" one man shouted.

"Our fields are ruined!" another woman cried.

Paul, ever the protector, stood at the door with his sword, deflecting their anger.

"It's just a kid!" he roared. "Kids make mistakes!"

The crowd wasn't convinced. They didn't leave until Paul had promised to help replant their fields, and Zenith handed out free food as a peace offering.

Meanwhile, I sat inside, staring at my muddy hands.

"Well," I muttered to myself, "at least it wasn't from the sky this time. Improvement!"

Lilia, wiping mud from my face, gave me a tired smile. "Young Master, you're certainly…creative."

Thus, my reputation was born.

From that day forward, I was known as the Water Beast of the Greyrat household. The villagers avoided me like the plague, Zenith became even more cautious with my magic lessons, and Paul started training harder, muttering something about needing to protect me from mobs.

But hey, at least I didn't flood the house again. Progress, right?

Ī~Ī

It wasn't until my fourth birthday that Zenith decided I was ready to try fire magic.

"Are you sure about this?" Paul asked, already gripping his sword like he was heading into battle.

Zenith waved him off with a smile. "He's ready. Besides, it's just a basic fire spell. What could possibly go wrong?"

Lilia, ever the voice of caution, chimed in from the sidelines. "Perhaps he should aim for the sky rather than the ground, Mistress."

Good call, Lilia. Nobody wanted a repeat of the Great Flood Incident.

The stage was set: Zenith stood close to guide me, Paul was poised to slash through any infernos, and Lilia had a bucket of water—just in case.

"Alright, Rudy," Zenith said, kneeling down to my level. "The spell is simple: 'Agni.' Just focus on creating a small flame, like a candle. Nothing big, okay?"

"Okay, small flame," I repeated. But inside, I thought, Let's make it epic.

I extended my hands towards the sky, a dramatic flair I'd picked up from my past life's anime obsessions.

"Agni!" I yelled with all the determination of a shounen protagonist.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the night was swallowed by blinding light as a miniature sun formed above us.

The sky turned from dark to blazing orange, illuminating the entire field and the village beyond. I swear I saw a rooster crow in confusion, thinking it was morning.

Paul screamed. Zenith shielded her eyes. Lilia dropped her bucket in shock.

The heat was intense, like standing next to a furnace. I could feel my skin tingling and smelled something…toasty. Was that me?

"Rudy!" Paul roared, leaping into action. He slashed through the fireball with his sword, dissipating it before it could do more damage.

The aftermath was…impressive, to say the least. The grass was scorched black, the house's roof had caught a bit of ash, and everyone, including me, had mild sunburns. Zenith's face was red, though I wasn't sure if it was from the heat or sheer embarrassment.

That night, as we tried to cool down with damp cloths, Paul stumbled upon something unexpected in the fields: a roasted demon bird.

"It's…cooked perfectly," he said, poking it with his sword.

Zenith sighed. "Might as well make the most of it."

The bird turned out to be delicious. We ended up sharing it with the villagers as a peace offering, which somewhat softened the tension from previous magical mishaps.

"Maybe fire magic isn't such a good idea for you right now," Zenith said later, patting my head gently.

"Yeah," Paul grumbled, nursing his sunburn. "What's next? An earthquake?"

I grinned to myself. Just wait, Dad. Only three major elements to go!

Ī~Ī

When Zenith decided it was time to teach me earth magic, I was genuinely excited. Controlling rocks and boulders seemed less chaotic than fire or water—something manageable. Or so I thought.

Zenith floated a few boulders effortlessly, her hand glowing with power. "The spell is simple: 'Bhumi.' Focus on the ground and let it rise to your will."

Paul, visibly nervous, stood off to the side with his sword at the ready. Lilia hovered near him, her expression wary. Zenith even conjured a magical shield to cover both her and me.

"Seriously," I muttered, "what could possibly go wrong?"

I extended my hand toward the ground, channeling all the determination of a prodigy. "Bhumi!"

For a moment, nothing happened. I started to feel a little smug. Maybe I'd finally mastered subtlety.

Then the ground trembled beneath my feet. The tremors grew stronger, causing Paul to stagger and Lilia to grab onto him for balance.

"Rudy, stop!" Zenith yelled, but it was too late.

The earth erupted violently, sending shockwaves rippling across the landscape. In the distance, a small mountain began to crumble, its rocky face collapsing in a thunderous roar. Dust clouds filled the air, and birds scattered in panic.

When the rumbling finally subsided, we stood in stunned silence, staring at the ruined mountain.

Paul broke the silence first. "Well…at least nobody lived there."

Zenith gave him a sharp glare before turning back to me, her expression equal parts exasperated and amazed. "Rudy, do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Uh…" I hesitated. "Proved I'm great at earth magic?"

Paul sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Forget swords, forget magic—at this rate, he's going to destroy the entire kingdom before he turns five."

From that day forward, I was dubbed "Rudy the Destruction." It wasn't exactly the title I'd dreamed of, but hey, at least they weren't calling me "Rudy the Baby Mage" anymore. Small victories, right?

Ī~Ī

Paul's excitement about a month-long magic break was palpable. The man lived for swordsmanship, and I think he saw this as his golden opportunity to shape me into his ideal successor.

"Alright, Rudy," he said, grinning ear to ear as he handed me a wooden sword. "Time for some proper training. Attack me with all you've got!"

I stared at him blankly. Did he seriously expect a four-year-old to pose a threat?

Shrugging, I complied. I gripped the wooden sword tightly, took a few hesitant steps forward, and then…swung it directly at his crotch.

"GAH!" Paul doubled over, clutching himself in pain.

"I win," I said flatly, resting the sword on my shoulder.

"T-t…that's unfair!" he wheezed.

"Is it?" I asked innocently.

Let's just say that didn't go over well. My punishment? Sword training the entire morning.

It was exhausting. Swing, parry, block, swing again—it felt endless. Sweat dripped down my tiny frame, and I was beginning to resent every muscle ache.

That's when a brilliant idea struck me. If magic could make me a menace in everyday life, why not use it to turn this wooden stick into a masterpiece?

Grinning mischievously, I placed the sword on the ground and whispered, "Bhumi." The sword lightened until it felt like I was holding a feather.

"Pani." Its rigidity softened, making it flexible yet unyielding, like water.

"Agni." The blade ignited faintly, glowing like a torch.

Perfect.

When I picked it up again, the sword was something else entirely. Faster, hotter, and practically indestructible.

Paul, unaware of the upgrades, motioned for me to charge. "Come on, Rudy! Show me what you've—WHOA!"

My first swing caught him off guard, nearly knocking his sword out of his hands. The speed was ridiculous, and Paul's usual cocky grin was replaced by a look of genuine concentration.

"What the hell did you do to that sword?!" he barked, deflecting my next blow with noticeable effort.

"Just a little magic," I replied with a cheeky grin.

The fight escalated quickly. My blazing, feather-light sword whipped through the air like a blur, each strike faster and harder to predict than the last. Paul was sweating buckets, forced to move faster and parry harder than he ever had in our sparring sessions.

"Rudy, you little monster!" he yelled, dodging a particularly vicious slash.

"Come on, Dad! Is this all you've got?" I taunted, spinning the sword effortlessly before launching another flurry of attacks.

Paul blocked, parried, and countered as best he could, but I could see the strain in his movements. He was actually pushing himself.

Eventually, though, my tiny stamina gave out. I tripped over my own feet, and Paul, seeing an opening, lunged forward and lightly smacked me on the arm with the flat of his blade.

"Gotcha," he said, panting heavily.

By the end of it, I was covered in burn marks, small cuts, and bruises. My arms felt like noodles, and I collapsed onto the ground, utterly spent.

But Paul? Oh, he looked worse. He was drenched in sweat, his shirt torn in a few places, and his expression screamed exhaustion.

When Zenith found us later, she was livid. "Paul, what did you do to him?!"

"I-I was supervising!" Paul stammered, clearly trying to shift the blame.

"No sex for a week," she declared, scooping me up and glaring daggers at him.

"Wha—but it's not my fault!" Paul whined, but it was no use.

As for me? I couldn't help but smirk. Sure, I was battered and bruised, but seeing Paul grovel in defeat was worth every second.

Ī~Ī

Author Note: I am back with this fic. Thanks for all the positive reviews. Drop your thoughts in the review section as your words inspire me to write longer, faster and with more depth.

Till then, take care!

~Phoenix