The dish before Allen was unlike anything he had prepared before.
[Grilled Soft-Clawed Land Shrimp]
Effect: After eating, the consumer gains the status effect [Magic Rampage B].
Additional Benefits: +20 strengthening points, as well as the special ability [Cursed Body E].
[Magic Rampage B]: Triggers a B-level magic runaway phenomenon.
Allen stared at the shimmering text on his panel, scratching the back of his head in confusion.
"This is… odd."
The description was vague, almost suspiciously so. In most cases, he had at least a decent understanding of how his cooking translated into magical effects. But this time, the entry gave him little more than a warning and a mystery.
Still, curiosity never stopped him before. And besides, the smell was irresistible.
The shrimp—nearly half a meter long even after roasting—was crackling softly as fat dripped into the fire. Allen had seasoned it only with the pinch of salt he carried for emergencies. No spices, no herbs, nothing fancy. Yet the aroma was so rich and mouthwatering that even he had to swallow back a line of drool.
That was the mark of perfect heat: letting the natural flavors of the ingredient burst forth on their own.
Blackie, his loyal companion, had already crept closer, sniffing eagerly at the air. His gleaming eyes said everything—I want it.
Allen quickly pushed him away.
"Hold it, Blackie. Let me try first. If it turns out poisonous, do you want to keel over on me? I'd rather risk it myself than poison you to death."
Bran, crouching nearby, blinked his big eyes but didn't protest. He was sharp enough to realize Allen wasn't being selfish—he was protecting them. So Bran sat obediently, tail flicking as he watched every move Allen made.
Allen didn't hesitate. With the hearty appetite only a devil could muster, he tore into the grilled shrimp. The crisp shell cracked under his teeth, the tender meat within steaming hot. Flavor burst across his tongue, savory and sweet all at once. In mere minutes, the entire shrimp was gone, vanishing into his bottomless stomach.
"Not bad at all—"
But before Allen could reach for another, a sudden, violent change hit him. His expression froze, and the remaining shrimp dropped from his hands.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
"477?" Allen muttered unconsciously as if calling to some hidden system. His instincts screamed danger, and his body reacted before his mind caught up. He leapt back, retreating several meters in the blink of an eye.
The place he had just been standing erupted.
An irrepressible force surged from within him, magic boiling over like a volcano. Ten instincts buried deep in his devilish blood roared to life, forcing raw power outward. A whirlwind of magic spiraled around his body, blasting the ground bare within five meters.
The air crackled. The storm of energy twisted the world itself.
And then—impossible things began to happen.
Dead branches scattered on the ground shimmered, reshaping themselves into golden, brittle chocolate crisps. Rocks dissolved into shimmering candies of countless colors. Clumps of soil transformed into neat blocks of fudge. Gravel sparkled into coarse salt. Even the surrounding plants didn't escape—blades of grass and weeds turned into fluffy cakes and pastries, the aroma of sugar and butter filling the air.
In mere moments, the dark clearing of the forest had been remade into a surreal wonderland: an ocean of food.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the storm ceased. The whirlwind collapsed into stillness, leaving only the transformed landscape behind.
Allen stood frozen, staring at the sight in disbelief.
"…Oh my god. This… this can't be real."
He rubbed his eyes, half-expecting it to vanish like a dream. But no—the cakes and candies remained, glistening under the faint light of the moon.
His mind whirled. He remembered a book he had read with Penello, one of many they had poured over in the library. According to magical theory, there were five known exceptions to Gamp's Basic Law of Elemental Transfiguration.
And at the very top of that list? Food.
No magic, no spell, no wizard—no matter how powerful—was capable of conjuring true food out of nothing. Duplications might mimic form, but they lacked nutrition and flavor. Illusions might trick the eye, but they vanished at the touch of the tongue.
Food could not be made.
And yet here it was.
Allen knelt, hesitantly picking up a piece of cake that had once been a weed. He sniffed it, tore off a bite, and chewed carefully.
His eyes widened.
"This is… cake. Real cake. Texture, smell, taste—everything."
He tried the candy next, then the chocolate crisp. Every single piece was real food, perfectly edible. Whether they carried nutrition he couldn't yet say, but if something looked like cake, smelled like cake, tasted like cake, and felt like cake in his mouth… then wasn't it undeniably cake?
"Wait. Is this… the so-called magic runaway?"
He frowned, recalling the passage he had read not long ago.
Magic runaway: a phenomenon seen in young wizards without proper training or guidance. In moments of emotional surge, their will alone can distort the world around them, manifesting uncontrolled magical effects.
Harry Potter himself had famously experienced such an event. Insulted beyond restraint, he had lost control and caused a woman to inflate into a massive balloon.
At the time, Harry was still far from mastering any advanced spells. That incident wasn't something he had learned—it was the unpredictable eruption of raw magical will.
If so, then what Allen had just undergone was the same phenomenon. Only… his power didn't blow people into balloons. It turned the world into food.
"Looks peaceful and harmless at first glance," Allen muttered, "but if you think about it… horrifying."
He imagined, unwillingly, what might happen if another person had been caught within that five-meter storm. Would they be twisted into gingerbread men? Candy sculptures? Living confections? The thought alone made his stomach knot.
Yet, despite the dread, there was also curiosity—excitement, even.
"Magic runaway… interesting. Very interesting."
He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to make sense of it. "So eating that shrimp triggers a runaway. And not just any runaway—it produces effects that don't follow conventional magical rules."
But there was more. His skin prickled, the energy inside him refusing to settle. He quickly opened his personal panel.
His jaw nearly dropped.
The Hunting Level, which hadn't budged in ages no matter how many spells he had studied, now gleamed at Level 40.
Not only that, but his exclusive skill—Eye of Discrimination—had evolved. No longer limited to identifying food ingredients and living creatures, it now revealed the attributes of non-living objects as well.
A leap forward, all from one runaway incident.
Even the new ability [Cursed Body E] seemed minor compared to this. What truly mattered was that he had gained understanding. The runaway hadn't just erupted blindly—it had granted him a kind of enlightenment, a breakthrough in his comprehension of magic itself.
He stared down at the roasted shrimp, disbelief mixing with awe. "Something that looks like a lobster did all this? If that's true, then soft-clawed land shrimp will be worth more than gold in October."
To test his suspicion, Allen didn't hesitate. He grabbed another grilled shrimp and devoured it whole.
Again, the storm came. Again, food exploded into existence. Another pit of bizarre confections scarred the forest floor.
But this time, nothing new stirred inside him. No fresh insight. No further level-up.
"Hm. One-time only?" he mused. "Or maybe… once per level of growth?"
Pondering, he hunted a few more shrimp for later experimentation, carefully packing away the remaining two.
As tempting as it was to let Blackie try one, Allen decided firmly against it. The last thing he needed was for Blackie's runaway to trigger—a storm driven by his companion's will instead of his own. Who knew what chaos that would unleash?
To erase traces, Allen burned away the food pits with flames until only ash remained. The air filled with the smell of roasted sugar and charred candy, a grotesque dessert bonfire.
Then, without lingering, he hurried out of the Forbidden Forest.
On the way back toward the castle, he thought deeply. Judging from how the shrimp interacted with his devil stomach, the original magical conflict inside the creature had been converted into runaway energy when cooked. And since every wizard carried the potential for runaway, eating it wouldn't harm them—in fact, it might even strengthen them.
If that was true, the implications were enormous.
Allen clenched his fists. He needed to confirm whether this strengthening effect applied only to him or to everyone. If others could grow through this method, then he had stumbled upon something revolutionary.
"'On the Relationship Between Magical Runaway and Growth Progress'… huh. That might actually make a decent paper."
He chuckled to himself, murmuring the idea aloud as he passed Hagrid's cabin. The lights were dark, the half-giant already asleep. Allen didn't stop. His mind was too full of questions.
Back in his room, he carefully secured the shrimp he had caught, tucking them away to prevent escape.
Finally, exhausted but buzzing with anticipation, he collapsed into bed.
"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself. "Tomorrow I'll find out more."
With that thought, Allen drifted swiftly into sleep.
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