MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 905: Payment Method
Previously on MIGHT AS WELL BE OP...
"You didn’t tell us the name of the fifth step," Anthony remarked from the sidelines as he observed the process. Although his knowledge of ramen was vast, he had to confess that he had never witnessed a procedure quite like this one. It was understandable, however; this specific method was an anomaly of this timeline, a secret that could not be found in any other world he had visited.
"The fifth step is called Skimming the False Self," Broth-ben replied with a calm, authoritative tone. The onlookers nodded in unison, the profound meaning behind the name resonating with them instantly without the need for further clarification.
Without pausing, the chef moved into the next phase of the ritual. He glided toward the resting dough with fluid, effortless grace. As he began the work, he pulled the dough with masterly precision, saturating it with Savor while weaving rhythm, dedication, and love into every single strand. His hands moved in a dance dictated by pure instinct.
As the noodles took shape beneath his palms, they gave a faint, rhythmic pulse, reacting to his touch as if they possessed a soul of their own. With seamless transition, the chef lowered them into the pot with gentle ease. The moment they touched the broth, the noodles seemed to let out a sigh of pure contentment, as if returning to their true ancestral home.
One technique followed another as the chef labored, his motions a blend of high-speed efficiency and meticulous devotion. Every gesture was purposeful; not a single movement was wasted on vanity. Before long, the ramen was finished. The surrounding atmosphere became heavy with the scent of Savor energy, becoming so thick it was almost tangible. The noodles drifted lazily within the liquid, and the toppings were arranged with such aesthetic perfection that they demanded the admiration of anyone watching.
The chef offered no verbal commentary. He merely cast a glance toward Anthony and his companions—who were watching in hushed awe—and gave a small, silent nod accompanied by a faint smile. In the Ramen Singularity Timeline, the dish was served in total silence. There was no requirement for justification or explanation. The ramen communicated its own story the second it graced the palate.
"In the Ramen Singularity Timeline, they say that ramen isn't simply cooked," the Brothkin whispered, inhaling deeply as if tasting the masterpiece through its aroma. "It is allowed to happen."
After pausing for a few moments to appreciate the scene, the group decided to move forward, satisfied by their visit to the Public Simmerium.
"Let’s go find some things to buy," Altheria proposed as they trailed behind the Brothkin. "We aren't sure when we'll find our way back here again."
The suggestion met with unanimous approval. Soon, the group rose into the air as one, their bodies ascending lightly. Leaving the Public Simmerium in their wake, they streaked through the sky toward the merchant district, watching the world expand below them.
"What was your take on that ramen-making technique?" Vega inquired, glancing up at Romulus, who remained perched upon her head.
Romulus stayed quiet for a beat, seemingly processing his thoughts. Eventually, he answered, "Basic. Yet, it was adequate enough to express its intent and its message."
Flying at the head of the group, Broth-ben turned back toward Romulus for a second. He shared a brief smile before adding, "What Romulus says is the truth." Having said that, he turned his focus back to the path ahead.
"Your knowledge of ramen seems quite deep," Aaaninja remarked, pulling up alongside Broth-ben. "Are you a chef as well?"
"On Planet Nodara, everyone is a chef in their own capacity," Broth-ben answered flatly. "Bloodlines and lineage hold no weight here." His tone suggested he had no desire to go into further detail.
Shortly thereafter, the party arrived at the shopping district and touched down softly. The streets were laced with steam and curved inward, leading the throngs of people past rounded stalls hewn from warm stone. In shallow displays, Simmer-Pearls sparkled; Traveler’s Noodles hung in pale loops from timber frames, and aromatic satchels floated through the breeze, emitting trails of soft white mist.
Vendors of the Brothkin race haggled with patience while Oil Ascendants stood behind counters in silent, hovering judgment. Outlanders moved with care, trading exotic spices and sealed flasks. Beneath their feet, the earth hummed with a low vibration, as if the marketplace itself were savoring every transaction made within its borders.
The team wasted no time, moving between the stalls with focused excitement. They explored shop after shop, inspecting the wares with keen eyes. They gathered bowls of diverse shapes, various ingredients, cooking pots, chopsticks, and several grades of oil. They also picked out bottles containing liquid harvested from the Endless Broth Seas, each one thrumming with a faint energy.
Then, a realization struck them.
Mana crystals were useless as currency here.
"Ehhh... how are we supposed to pay for this?" Vega asked, her violet eyes searching for Broth-ben, who was watching them from a short distance.
"Savor Marks serve as the currency of Planet Nodara," Broth-ben explained calmly. "However, they are unavailable to foreigners. Outsiders must pay through barter—specifically, by offering spices that do not exist within this Ramen Singularity Timeline."
"How can we tell which spices are unique?" Aura Nova questioned. "Some of ours might already be common here."
"Have no fear," Broth-ben replied smoothly. "Just present them to the merchant. Through the Broth Memory skill, they will instinctively know."
The group nodded, though they quickly realized they had a problem. Not a single person had brought spices. Their space rings didn't even contain a grain of salt.
Nevertheless, they each found a way.
Aaaninja reached out to the River of Time in silence. Responding to his call, a variety of perfect spices manifested before him. As the embodiment of the River of Time, it knew exactly what was missing from the Ramen Singularity Timeline. He covered the costs for himself and Altheria, acting with the grace of a true gentleman.
Aura Nova didn't hesitate. She triggered Omniedit, manifesting several distinct spices directly from her thoughts. After paying, she stepped back.
When it was Anthony’s turn, he made a casual gesture, employing Quantum Manipulation to warp the fabric of reality. Exotic spices materialized in his hand, their very existence rewritten into the world. He settled the debt for both himself and Vega before they walked away together.
Lucian, however, remained motionless.
He had no way to pay.
For a moment, he stood there in stunned silence, feeling the awkwardness of a man who takes a girl on a date only to find his pockets empty. Even Veronica was unable to assist him.
He had encountered spice-related abilities before, but he had deemed them too trivial to copy. With a heavy sigh, massive waves of perfectly controlled mana surged from his core. The merchant district shook under the weight of this contained chaos. Lucian opened his mouth and spoke a single command.
Event Rewriting.
Reality groaned as the fundamental laws of the Ramen Singularity Timeline tried to fight back. It was useless. Lucian flooded the world with more mana, imposing his will upon the fabric of existence. The moment where he lacked the means to pay was erased, replaced by a new reality. His mana dissipated immediately after.
The merchant stared at Lucian, his face pale with terror. On the counter sat a collection of spices that Lucian had forced reality to recognize as valid. With a smug grin, Lucian departed, followed by a completely smitten Veronica.
All eyes then turned to Kingsley, curious about his plan. He possessed no supernatural energy, relying entirely on his martial arts. Was he going to punch reality until it accepted his payment?
Before anyone could intervene, a portal tore open. A rain of spices fell from it, each one clearly labeled with a name: Sky Kingsley.
The universe itself had settled his tab.
Kingsley calmly stowed some spices in his space ring and left the rest as payment, ensuring he had enough for future needs.
The onlookers were frozen in shock. No energy had been detected. There hadn't even been a ripple in space.
The merchant quickly checked the spices and then gestured for them to leave at once. He wanted nothing more to do with these terrifyingly overpowered foreigners.
Broth-ben simply shook his head as he walked off. In all his thousands of years, this was undoubtedly the most ridiculous group of people he had ever had to lead.
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