The forest was quiet that night, except for the soft crackle of the campfire and the smell of roasted meat hanging thick in the air. Honestly, it smelled amazing, a mix of pork fat and charcoal and a good life. I only hope I had rice with me. Ugh my wishful thinking.
Across from me, Tweety sat beside the fire, half-dozing with a piece of crispy lechon skin in his beak. His feathers glowed faintly gold, like he was radiating happiness.
"Ahh…" he sighed, eyes closed. "Perfect salt. Divine fat. Crisp like sunlight on mountain peaks."
Yeah. He actually said that.
I just sat there, smiling like an exhausted idiot. My arms still ached from turning that spit for hours, and my face was shiny with grease.
"Glad you like it," I said. "I probably dumped too much salt in again."
"Impossible," Tweety said without opening his eyes. "The seasoning sang in harmony. Even imperfection kneels before your craft."
I snorted softly. If only he knew.
Honestly, I'd dumped half a fistful of sun-salt without thinking. But, as usual, my Master Chef skill did its mysterious fix-everything magic. The result tasted perfect. I still didn't know how it worked, just that it made me look way more competent than I really was.
For once, things were calm. The fire crackled, crickets chirped, and since I got isekai'd, I wasn't running, panicking, or thinking about pennilessness.
Tweety handed me his plate and wanted seconds. Well, literally he wanted more. He already finished half of the lechon and I think he will also consume the remaining half. I served him half of the remaining half anyway.
Tweety sat beside it, eyes half-closed, wings slightly puffed as if soaking in glory itself. He took another slow bite of lechon skin and let out a quiet, blissful sigh.
"Ahh… the salt melts just right, the fat sings on the tongue… John, this…this is divinity."
He sounded like a food critic writing poetry.
I watched him, smiling tiredly.
Tweety hummed again, voice full of euphoria.
"Perfection. Pure perfection. Even the gods would weep."
"Yeah," I muttered, leaning back on my hands. "Or choke on the sodium."
For once, the night was peaceful. No monsters and chaos, just roast pork and a happy bird.
As I was washing the cutlets I used, suddenly I heard something meowed.
I froze.
"...Did you hear that?"
Another small mrrrow came from the bushes to my right.
When I turned, two blue eyes glowed softly in the dark. A moment later, a tiny white-furred cat with faint black stripes padded into the light.
"Oh, hey there, little guy." I crouched down and held out a hand. "You hungry too?"
The kitten tilted its head, sniffed, and took a cautious step closer.
Its fur shimmered faintly like frost. Cute didn't even begin to cover it.
Just as I was about to pet it, Tweety cleared his throat behind me, a sharp, warning sound that could cut through stone.
"John," he said evenly. "Do you know who that is?"
I blinked.
"Uh… a cat?"
"That," Tweety said, feathers ruffling, "is no ordinary stray. What is the famous dweller of the North wandering in my domain?"
The kitten stiffened, fur bristling and a tiny puff of white mist escaped its nose before it hissing.
Okay, note to self: hissing cats that exhale frost are not normal.
"Wait," the kitten said suddenly, voice surprisingly smooth for something so small.
"You're … the Lord of Fire Infinite?"
Tweety lifted his chin proudly.
"Indeed. Tweety of the Everflame. Phoenix of Dawn and Dusk. Keeper of Eternal Flame."
The kitten blinked.
"Oh, that's why I passed down in your mountain and I couldn't sense you," the kitten said.
Mind you, I'm not shocked even a beast can talk.
"You look smaller than I expected. You were like…ornamental," the kitten added.
The surrounding suddenly went completely still.
"...Oh no," I whispered.
Tweety's eye twitched.
"Smaller?"
"You used to blot out the sky," the kitten said honestly. "Now you could fit in a teapot."
I bit my tongue to stop a laugh. It didn't work.
Tweety turned his head slowly toward me.
"John."
"Y-yeah?"
"Silence or I'll roast you next"
"O-okay. I'm sorry."
He did not look convinced.
The kitten sat down calmly, tail curling around its paws like he didn't angered a Phoenix.
"So, Lord of Fire Infinite, what are you doing with a human? And why so … travel-sized?"
"Hmph," Tweety said, feathers fluffing indignantly. "I have entered a contract. This human, John Avery, is my partner and companion. I now travel to enjoy the world's finest cuisine."
The kitten tilted its head.
"You … made a divine contract to eat?"
"To appreciate," Tweety corrected.
I sighed.
"He's basically on a food tour."
"Our bond is sacred," Tweety added.
The kitten blinked once.
"Right. Sacred gluttony. Understood."
Tweety's gaze sharpened.
"And what of you, frost kitten? The snowless lands are no place for the North's laziest beast."
The cat yawned, utterly unbothered.
"Travelling."
"Travelling?" Tweety repeated. "You once spent a century napping in an iceberg."
"It was comfortable," the cat replied. "But I caught a smell. Warm, smoky, sweet… I followed it here."
I raised my hand.
"That'd be the lechon."
The cat sniffed the air again, eyes shining.
"Ah. Yes. That's it. The scent that led me across mountains."
Tweety gave a low, incredulous chuckle.
"You crossed continents for a meal?"
"For a legend," the cat said simply. "I heard of a man, the one whom Fenrir serves. They say his cooking can make gods kneel."
Tweety snorted, feathers flaring slightly.
"Fenrir … that old windbag. Always bragging about his human."
The cat's ears perked.
"So the rumors are true?"
"Perhaps," Tweety said coolly. "But I have my human. And his cooking surpasses any legend."
"Hold up," I said. "Let's not set the bar that high-"
"Silence, John. Your modesty is part of your charm."
The kitten stared at me, unimpressed.
"We'll see. If your cooking truly rivals the one who serves Fenrir … I'll judge it myself."
I groaned quietly.
"Great. Another mythical taste-tester. Aren't you supposed to eat only fish?"
The cat glared at me.
"I'm a carnivore and I prefer meat."
"Then prepare another dish," Tweety said, feathers shimmering with pride. "My honor is at stake."
I scratched my head.
"Why is your honor always attached to my work!?"
Neither of them answered. Both divine beasts just stared at the lechon like rival critics waiting for a second course.
I sighed.
"Fine. But if you two start another elemental war, you're both doing the dishes."