MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 904: Ramen Cooking Procedure

The group traversed the Public Simmerium, their gazes darting toward every detail as they soaked in the environment with silent reverence. In this place, every element appeared to hold a deeper significance; nothing existed by chance, and no sound or movement occurred without a specific cause. Even the atmosphere felt deliberate, saturated with an invisible order and unspoken regulations.

After allowing them time to explore, Broth-ben—whose tour was nearing its conclusion—determined it was time to demonstrate the authentic art of ramen preparation within the Ramen Singularity Timeline on Planet Nodara. It was already evident that the methods practiced here were light-years beyond anything they had previously encountered. Witnessing just a few of these techniques would surely leave a permanent mark on their understanding.

Moving with steady, graceful strides, Broth-ben guided the team to a different wing of the Simmerium. There, a professional was preparing to begin a culinary session. The chef was a member of the Noodle-Born race, possessing a physical form that mirrored their gastronomic nature. The chef wore a long, sleeveless outer robe that was split down the sides to ensure complete freedom of motion.

The garment’s color shifted with nearly imperceptible subtlety, its shades fluctuating according to the chef’s internal Savor balance as it reacted to their focus, intent, and emotional state. A heat-wrap sash was cinched tightly around the chef’s midsection; this specialized tool functioned to regulate internal body heat and suppress emotional outbursts during the process, maintaining perfect equilibrium and stability.

An apron crafted from semi-transparent cloth protected the Noodle-Born chef, a material designed to effortlessly repel broth and oil, causing droplets to slide away without leaving a single stain. Fingerless gloves covered the chef's hands, providing a balance of protection and the tactile sensitivity required for precision. On their feet were bowlstep sandals, flat footwear engineered to maintain a direct connection with the Simmerium floor’s vibrations. These sandals allowed the chef to detect minute fluctuations in resonance, movement, and energy beneath the cooking station.

Once the attire was adjusted and the preparations were set, the chef commenced the ritual immediately. He navigated through an array of nearby bowls, lifting each one for a moment and examining them as if he were listening to them rather than looking. He seemed to be hunting for a quality that evaded the naked eye. Anthony and his companions remained perfectly still, watching intently, while Broth-ben began to narrate the unfolding scene.

"The initial stage of crafting ramen is known as Bowl Recognition," Broth-ben explained in a steady voice. "It is the formal acknowledgment of the vessel intended to cradle your ramen upon its completion. However, the choice is not one-sided. The bowl must also grant its approval to the chef."

As if on cue with Broth-ben’s explanation, the chef reached out for a pristine white bowl. He placed it onto a unique stone pedestal located at the heart of the station without a moment's doubt. Then he simply stood there, his posture relaxed, waiting for a verdict rather than performing a task.

A few seconds passed before a soft warmth radiated from the bowl's base. Glowing Savory-Gold patterns flickered along the rim briefly before vanishing. The indication was clear: the bowl had accepted the chef, and the chef had accepted the bowl.

"Should the bowl reject the chef," Broth-ben added, "then a different bowl must be selected by the chef. In the art of ramen, this phenomenon is non-negotiable. Without this mutual recognition, the ramen can never truly be finished."

With practiced fluidity, the chef transitioned into the second phase, his effortless movements proving his vast experience. This stage was called the Water Awakening.

Extending a hand, the chef summoned liquid from one of the Endless Broth Springs surrounding the station. The fluid glided through the air, pouring into the vessel below. As the stream fell, the chef controlled his respiration, carefully infusing the flow with Savor. Every breath was calculated; every motion was intentional. The liquid took on a darker tone as it settled, and thin, precise ribbons of steam began to rise.

The chef moved into the third phase without hesitation, yet every action was infused with deep affection. This part of the process was the Heat Alignment. On Planet Nodara, heat is rarely forced upon the ingredients. Instead, a negotiation must take place between the heat, the pot, and the chef—much like the earlier recognition of the bowl.

Approaching the pot, the chef rested a hand against its side. He closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax, turning his consciousness inward to communicate with the unseen forces. Suddenly, a natural warmth began to spread through the pot, even and slow, reacting to his mental command. The chef then stepped back, maintaining a calm composure.

"In this specific step," Broth-ben remarked, "the heat responds directly to the thoughts and intentions of the chef." His voice carried the weight of an expert who had tasted countless bowls and seen every technique in existence.

Next, the chef began the fourth stage of the ritual: the Bone & Depth Infusion. With steady hands, he placed bones, shells, and void fragments into the pot one by one. Initially, they remained stationary on the surface of the broth. The chef watched with total concentration, as if the entire universe had shrunk down to the pot before him. Then, one after another, the components sank into the depths.

As they submerged, a sense of depth began to manifest. The broth transformed into a rich Umbral-Brown shade, and the atmosphere grew heavy. Curiously, time within the vessel seemed to decelerate, as if the laws of Nodara were pausing to judge the chef’s craft.

"During this procedure," Broth-ben said loudly enough for all to hear, "the shells and bones must descend by their own will. They cannot be pushed down. If they are still floating after sixty seconds, they must be discarded immediately. That is a sign they have been rejected by either the broth or the pot."

Anthony and the others gave silent nods, captivated by the spectacle. Every part of this culinary path required permission, care, and genuine respect. Without these elements, the chef would be rejected by the heat, the water, the pot, and the bowl alike.

Soon, a light foam began to surface as the temperature climbed. The broth’s color intensified, and rhythmic pulses of heat moved through the liquid. The chef raised his palm, channeling Savory energy into the broth with surgical precision. The pale foam drifted upward, and the chef skimmed most of it away, though a small portion remained.

"If he was going to skim it, why didn't he take all of the foam?" Aura Nova asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"I was just getting to that, Miss Aura Nova," Broth-ben answered with a faint smile, having identified her as the group's most inquisitive soul.

"That pale foam is the result of redundant intent," he elaborated. "Ramen is forged through intent. You have nothing without it. However, redundant intent isn't the same as an impurity. Leaving a small trace provides character, whereas stripping it all away leaves the broth soulless."

As he finished his explanation, Broth-ben looked toward the pot with a serene expression, as if he were listening to the silent dialogue between the chef and the broth.