Nador rolled his eyes, completely unrepentant. "Jealous of what? Your questionable fashion sense? Please. I'm setting trends here!" He said with a flourish of his hand with a hint of fire.
He turned back to the system interface, scrolling through the endless options of the shop. "Alright, let's see... explosion-resistant furniture, check. Self-repairing bookshelves, double-check. And definitely some new shoes. Preferably ones that don't melt when I accidentally channel the power of a small sun through my feet." Hypothetically.
He paused, his finger hovering over a particularly extravagant set of living room furniture, made from "Dragonscale Reinforced Obsidian." "Hmm, a bit pricey, but think of the insurance benefits! And if anything, it would cause them to pay an extra 10 grand!!" A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.
The system, ever the pragmatist, chimed in. "[The host should also invest in training manuals for Yin-Yang manipulation. Uncontrolled outbursts of energy are detrimental to both property and reputation.]"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Nador grumbled, reluctantly adding a few books on "Yin-Yang for dummies" and "Controlling Chaotic Energies" to his cart. "But where's the fun in being all responsible and boring? Besides! I feel like this is a whole new world of discovery from this point on! Plus with the start of the stupid plot, we'll probably have to compete with the that crazy Luke."
He spotted something else that caught his eye - a small, intricately carved wooden box labeled "Random Skill Scroll." "Ooh! Mystery loot! I'm in!" He bought it without a second thought, ignoring the system's warning about the low probability of getting anything useful... His old gambling habit kicked in like a spider sense of some sort.
"Alright, let's see what we've got," he said, tearing open the scroll with childlike enthusiasm and taking a deep breath as he started to unfurl it. A wave of magic washed over him, causing the box to glow. The air crackled with anticipation.
Within the box, there was a burst of light and a surge of power filled the room. When the light subsided, Nador looked down in his hand... there was nothing.
"[Skill: 'Cooking'," the system announced with a distinctly flat tone. "[Rank: F-]. Host can now cook basic meals without setting the kitchen on fire... hopefully.]"
Nador stared at his hand, then back at the system interface, a look of utter disbelief on his face. "Cooking? Seriously? After all that Yin-Yang cosmic energy, after nearly blowing myself and the castle to smithereens, I get… cooking? You f*cking scumbag!!"
He threw his head back and laughed, a genuine, uninhibited sound that echoed through the charred remains of the room. "This is just too perfect! The universe has a sick sense of humor, I swear."
The absurdity of it all struck him, a cosmic joke played just for his amusement. He envisioned himself, the 'Dominator' and 'The Dwayne Johnson of this Universe', meticulously following recipes and attempting to make soufflés while wielding the power of a thousand suns.
"Alright, System," he said, wiping the faint drool from his lips as he pictured the restaurant he'd open in a few days of learning the art of cooking! The protagonist doesn't stand a chance! "Add some cookbooks to the cart. And find me the most ridiculously oversized apron you can find. If I'm going to be a master chef, I'm going to do it in style."
He grinned, a newfound determination lighting up his face. Yin, Yang, destruction, and cooking – his life was just getting started, and he wouldn't have it any other way. "Time to embrace my destiny as the magical world's greatest… culinary disaster."
He strutted towards the remnants of what once was the living room door. He pauses before turning his head back to the carnage.
"System, play 'Let It Burn' by Usher. And make sure its blasted at 120 decibels.".
He pauses at the doorframe as he turns to head towards the castle's Kitchen with murderous intent...
[Affirmative]
Usher's iconic intro blared from the system's speakers, the beat thumping through the castle walls. Nador, fueled by a potent cocktail of cosmic energy, self-deprecating humor, and a newfound culinary ambition, marched toward the kitchen like he was leading an army.
He burst through the kitchen doors, the already pristine space gleaming under the magically-augmented lighting. Pots hung in perfect rows, knives were arranged meticulously by size, and a central island gleamed like an operating table awaiting its first patient. The head chef, a stout, balding man named Pierre, jumped a foot in the air, nearly dropping the delicate soufflé he was carefully extracting from the oven.
"Mr Nador!" Pierre stammered, his face paling. "What... what brings you to the kitchen?"
Nador struck a dramatic pose, his arms outstretched. "Pierre, my friend, prepare to witness a culinary revolution! The world, nay, the universe, is about to experience cuisine unlike anything it has ever seen!" His teeth sparkling white with a smile that sent shivers down the head Chef's spine.
Pierre looked around nervously, as if expecting hidden cameras. "But... but sir, I am in the middle of preparing dinner for the incoming call. Her majesty gave explicit instructions, specifically requesting..." What do you mean her majesty!? That was his Mistress! So he has full authority here!!
"Details, details!" Nador waved a dismissive hand, channeling a bit of Yin energy to casually incinerate a nearby pile of dirty pots and pans. "Tonight, we're not just serving food, Pierre. We're serving dreams! We're serving emotion! We're serving... uh... well, whatever the hell I manage to cook without setting the place on fire!"
Pierre swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the pile of ash that had once been cookware. "Sir, with all due respect, are you feeling alright? Perhaps you've had a bit too much... mana?"
Nador completely ignored him. "First things first," he declared, grabbing a pristine white apron bigger than himself that had mysteriously appeared via System delivery. It was embroidered with the words "Jingle My Hairy Balls" in glittering gold thread.
He wrestled with the ties, nearly strangling himself in the process. "System, assist with apron application! This thing is attempting to assassinate me!"
With a faint whir, the apron straps magically tightened themselves around Nador's waist. He puffed out his chest, striking another pose. He surveyed the kitchen with a critical eye, before grabbing the nearest cookbook. "Right. Let's start with something simple... say, a five-course meal for twenty, using only ingredients I can identify on sight."
Pierre's mouth hung open. He watched in horrified fascination as Nador proceeded to grab random ingredients, seemingly at random. A live chicken found itself face-to-face with a pile of Spawn berries. A rare truffle was tossed into a bubbling pot of what appeared to be dish soap.
"What... what are you doing?!" Pierre finally managed to squeak out, his voice cracking.
"Improvising, my dear Pierre!" Nador declared, with a flourish. "It's called 'avant-garde' cooking! You wouldn't understand! Now, where's the nuclear reactor? I need to preheat the oven."
Pierre fainted, collapsing in a heap on the floor.
Nador barely noticed. "System, translate 'nuclear reactor' to 'conventional oven' and point me in the right direction. And add a medical kit to the cart. Just in case my cooking is literally lethal."
The System complied, highlighting the oven with a glowing green aura. Usher continued to sing about letting it burn, the lyrics taking on a disturbingly literal meaning. Nador, oblivious to the chaos he was causing, was lost in the wild, unpredictable world of cooking, ready to unleash his culinary masterpiece upon the unsuspecting dignitaries. The fate of the universe, it seemed, now rested on the success (or more likely, the spectacular failure) of Nador's cooking.
Little did Nador know that he's very actions today, would change the course of events that'll be bound to happen leater on the very same evening.