Chương 30: Please Do Not Necromance the Dough

Morzath the Undying had destroyed many kingdoms, ended 3 heroic bloodlines, and once made an entire crusading army completely rethink the meaning of courage but he was currently losing an argument with butter. Bart and Gregor were still away in Tremendia dealing with the king. Therefore, Albert was in charge of the Archive. The skeleton custodian stood near the so called temporary Culinary Research corner, leaning quietly on his wooden broom.

The heavily stained cookbook on the table legally belonged to Master Gurrum Goldbelly while Morzath was simply an authorised consultant. The rules were strict: supervised use only, inside the Archive, no copying the pages. The heavy, leather bound Doom Almanac floated nearby. It did not have to be there but simply wanted to watch. Morzath glared down at the cookbook with glowing eyes. He read the first instruction. Allow butter to soften at room temperature. This turned out to be a problem.

Morzath's underground tomb was always freezing. He had no idea what counted as room temperature for the living. He raised one spiked, skeletal hand. He decided to use a basic spell to warm the dairy product.

"Thermal Equalisation," the lich rumbled. The block of butter instantly turned into a cloud of hot steam with a loud hiss. A blue System notice blinked in the air above the table. CULINARY CONSULTATION NOTICE Butter state: GAS Recommended state: NOT GAS Morzath stared at the empty plate. The floating Almanac flipped its pages and projected a glowing message into the air: EXCELLENT START. Morzath ignored the book and pulled a fresh block of butter from his icy storage ring.

He managed to smash it into the flour without turning it into a gas. He looked at the next step. Add warm water to activate the yeast. Do not use boiling water, as excessive heat will kill the yeast. Morzath froze. He read the sentence again.

"Kill?" the lich whispered. Albert slowly turned his skull toward the ancient sorcerer. Morzath leaned closely over the small bowl of yeast mixture.

"The yeast... is alive?" A small blue notice appeared. System response: Yes. Morzath was suddenly deeply interested. He did not add warm water. Instead, dark purple fire gathered at the tips of his skeletal fingers. He began to chant in a dead, forgotten language. Shadows twisted around the kitchen table. 5 mins later, the yeast mixture began crawling out of the bowl. It pulled itself over the edge of the glass, dragging its sticky, bubbling mass across the wooden table like a giant slug.

UNREGISTERED BIOLOGICAL HOLDING DETECTED Classification: Active yeast culture Secondary classification: Undead Stolen story; please report. Mobility: Unnecessary The undead yeast mass tried to slide off the table to escape. Albert stepped forward and brought the broom down directly in front of it. THWACK!!. The undead mass stopped. Albert pointed the broom back toward the bowl. The yeast mass hissed but Albert made no move, slowly, the yeast mass turned around and crawled back into the bowl. Morzath nodded.

"Moving on," he said. Albert disappeared behind the circulation desk for several seconds. He returned carrying a piece of cardboard. In careful block letters, he had written: PLEASE DO NOT NECROMANCE THE DOUGH Morzath stared at it.

"That rule did not exist five minutes ago."Albert tapped the sign with one bony finger saying in a way it did now. They reached the final, most important step for making the pastry. Fold dough gently three times. Morzath looked at the dough.

"Gently," he noted. He raised a hand. He did not use his fingers to fold it. He used high level spatial magic. He gripped the fabric of reality and folded the space around the dough. The dough folded neatly through its own dimensional space. It now possessed 72 layers occupying the exact same physical location. He then put it into the oven. For half a second, Morzath thought he had succeeded. Then, physics caught up with the magic. WHOOPOS! A spatial shockwave blasted outward.

The baking oven launched across the Culinary Research corner like a cannonball. Albert smoothly reached out a bony hand and caught a flying baking tray out of the air. He did not try to catch the oven. The oven smashed loudly into the far wall and broke into three pieces. Albert placed the tray neatly on the table. He had priorities.

CULINARY SAFETY VIOLATION Technique detected: Dimensional Folding Recipe technique requested: Manual Folding Requested folds: 3 Dimensional layers detected: 72 Instruction compliance: Technically yes Method compliance: 4% The smoke slowly cleared from the corner of the Archive. Morzath brushed flour off his tattered crimson cape. He looked down at the baking sheet Albert had caught. On the metal tray sat one single, surviving pastry. It was ugly and lopsided.

One side was charred black, and the other side was completely raw. It was also letting out a very faint, ghostly whisper that was creepy. Morzath simply stared at the misshapen pastry. For a creature who had spent centuries becoming exceptionally good at destroying things, the look on his face was hard to classify. He looked like he was somewhat pleased. The giant lich carefully picked up the whispering pastry with two spiked fingers. He took a bite. Silence filled the Archive. The Almanac floated closer to watch.

Morzath chewed slowly and swallowed. He stared blankly at the wall for a long moment.

"This is terrible," Morzath said. Albert nodded once. Morzath looked back at the cookbook.

"Again." A soft blue chime echoed through the library. The Archive had noticed the legitimate, even if highly explosive, use of the borrowed book. SPECIALIST COLLECTION USAGE DETECTED Subject concentration: Culinary Arts External specialist demand: Confirmed Repeated supervised consultation: Confirmed Service demand identified: Culinary Research Workspace Qualification progress: 12% Facility improvement granted: Heat-Resistant Preparation Table With a soft glow, the burned, sticky wooden table vanished.

In its place appeared a gleaming, heavy stone slab, perfectly designed to handle hot pans, sharp knives, and minor magical blasts. Albert picked up his broom and began sweeping up the dimensional dough dust. Morzath pulled a new block of butter from his icy storage ring. He placed it carefully on the new heat resistant table. He opened the cookbook. Allow butter to soften at room temperature. Morzath stared at the sentence. Albert stopped sweeping.

"What," Morzath asked very slowly, "is the officially recognised temperature of a room?" Albert just lowered his skull. The Almanac opened itself and wrote. ROUND TWO.