A ‘casual’ wave of air carried the faint tang of burnt oil and charred seafood to them, and to the audience, judging by their promptly ‘booing’. Well, the burned odor was quite overpowering, lingering enough to make Luca’s nose twitch.

  The blurriness started to go away, leaving him then with a sudden message.

  [Data stream selected as target.]

  And then, the world become clearer and sharper again.

  [Charred, Undercooked Dwarf Kraken with Deepthseeds Sauce]

  [Charred Undercooked Squid with Garlic Sauce]

  Two small text bubbles floated above the dish that Chef Harpira was testing—translucent, flickering like heat waves on asphalt before vanishing completely. The ‘translation’ was quite curious but Luca picked up the most important words before glancing at the next plate. As two new text bubble appeared out of thin air, he caught the the resounding judgment from the demoness chef –which was a failure, as expected.

  [Sautéed Dwarf Kraken with Maidenyes and Romarin]

  [Sautéed Squid with Olive Oil and Rosemary]

  With this second test, Luca noticed that some names were close between the human version and whatever this other language was. Others felt worlds apart. He frowned slightly, leaning forward. What caught him off guard wasn’t just the words themselves—it was how they described results. Charred could be intentional, sure; he’d seen dishes labeled that way before. But Undercooked? That wasn’t something you would see with good eyes.

  And then there was this last one, clean and simple, no adjectives at all.

  Chef Tartarus picked up a piece of the sautéed kraken, popping it into his mouth without ceremony. Then he chewed once, twice, then swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. The silence stretched as he looked at the aspirant, a bit too much of intensity. His voice boomed through the space like thunder in a dark night. “Not bad!”

  After such words, the audience erupted into cheers, clapping filling the cavern-like space. But they were the only ones. Luca noticed that the other two judges weren’t so happy with such proclamation.

  The noise seemed like too much for Chef Tartarus after a moment. He slammed a fist onto the counter, the crack echoing sharply to shut it down. “You’ve got some skills!” he bellowed, grinning wide enough to show every one of their pointed, very-white teeth.

  The aspirant bounced slightly in place, grabbing their thin antennas with two of their noodle-like arms, quivering with such excitement that anyone would think they had been declared the winner. “Thank you very much, Chef!” their deep voice, gravelly and rough, contrasted oddly with their toneless, narrow aspect. They bowed so enthusiastically they smacked their forehead on the edge of the counter.

  The Chef Tartarus laughed loudly, waving them off as they moved on to follow Chef Dominatom and the third judge further down the line. A sudden wave of air brought a mix of saltwater and something so faint that slipped away the moment Luca tried to put his finger in.

  [Salty Dwarf Kraken Steamed Surprise Cannon]

  [Salty Squid Steamed Aromatic Cannon]

  Luca tilted his head, squinting at the last set of descriptions. This one was peculiar. The adjectives could not be categorized as easily as in the first case. He couldn’t even start imagining what could be the ‘surprise cannon’, excepting it should be something related to an aromatic plant. Or so he thought.

  Chef Dominatom separated the components of the plant with a pair of wooden sticks, a hint of dramatics on his movements. The clink of wood against ceramic reverberated as he worked in front of the applicant—a demon whose horns curved back like arched branches and whose tail twitched from time to time with each movement from the judge.

  Seeing it was really a clear separation of the dish, Luca leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the plate, reading the annotations that flickered briefly above the portions.

  [Fried Romarin Evil Root | Rosemary Potato chips]

  [Grilled Rusty Root Churros | Grilled Carrot Tubes]

  [Grilled Dwarf Kraken | Grilled Squid]

  Is this everything...?

  The format was different this time— in a single text. It looked cleaner that way, but why could be the reason of such change? Was it because these were "side dishes"? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d missed similar distinctions earlier, distracted by the main courses. Or perhaps the system only revealed such details when someone paid close enough attention. Either way, it made him wonder how much else he might have overlooked.

  As Chef Dominatom tasted each component, their expression remained unreadable. It was like his face was carved in volcanic stone. The silence stretched, heavy and poisonous for those with fragile nerves. When the chef finally spoke, their voice came out slow, strained, as if someone was pulling his teeth. “Interesting.” That single word was everything he offered before simply moving on without another glance.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Chef Harpira stepped up next, testing and judging with cold, assertive eyes. This time, at least, there were no glaring errors in their assessment —and the simple description above the dish kept developing Luca’s theory. Then came Chef Tartarus with the next dish, a disaster and half considering that the bear-like demon spat the whole portion he picked and gave at the aspirant a growl that made the smaller demon squeal.

  And so the cycle continued, following the ‘pattern’.

  Luca watched intently all of this, piecing together the bits of information from the descriptions hovering over each dish, comparing them against the judges’ words and reactions. By the end of the row, he felt like he was beginning to understand the system—or at least part of it.

  Undercooked, burn, and unseasoned were the clearest cases. And the worst ones at the same time. The rest of adjectives was a mixed bag which Luca supposed would understand better as the rounds continued. Hopefully, his dish wouldn’t end with none of them or could start counting the seconds until his end at the piranhas’ teeth –if the lava didn’t take him out first.

  When the last dish was tested by Chef Dominatom, Luca’s believed at first would be one of the good ones. Its description was simple, plain, which would support his theory that there weren’t good adjectives. No one of the dishes had held anything like ‘well-done’, ‘seasoned’, ‘good’, or whatever. So this should be the best case.

  However, there was no commentary, no reaction from the chef beyond a last glance, tail twitching on the air as he turned around and left.

  Points for the aspirant, anyway. The demon stood tall and composed, their dark wings folded neatly against their back, betraying no hint of nerves or disappointment. It was like a perfect statue of calm. Which seemed to amuse the audience, as they cheered them from the grads –and not so much to the rest of aspirants. Judging the faces of the others whose results hadn’t been favorable, they seemed to think they had got another one to their ‘list’.

  When the judges returned to their thrones after this, the presenter, who until now had seemed content to let the judges take center stage, suddenly remembered their role. The shadowy figure emerged on middle of the kitchen stations with an explosion of black fire, and clearing their throat dramatically, they raised their arms wide, drawing all eyes toward them. Their voice spread through the whole place even when they didn’t seem to be raising its level.

  “The evaluation has ended, my dears! It’s time to find out which applicants have what it takes to move on, to win a chance to fight for the treasures—and which ones will sadly leave the kitchens… or better say, will stay fore-ver!”

  The last word reverberated like a sharp, mocking sing-song, sending a wave of laughs through the crowd. Whispers rippled through the aspirants around Luca, but he didn’t pay attention to this. He was more occupied recalling Michael’s voice talking about the hidden cost for losing.

  His soul.

  Luca’s eyes drifted for an instant to one of the aspirants –a tall, sturdy demon with a fucking katana hanging from his back. It’s not yet the right time, he thought, and looked at the front again.

  “Aspirant 14 and Aspirant 17,” Chef Harpira said, briefly glancing at them.

  “9 and 12!” The biggest chef grinned.

  “Aspirant 10,” began Chef Dominatom, a thoughtful expression on his face – either that or he was suffering from a mild case of constipation, who knew? – and then added, like an afterthought, “aspirant 19.”

  Those who had been called seemed like they were doing their bests not to show too much emotion but failing spectacularly. The audience threw sparkling confetti to them –or to their direction at least. It erupted in flames in the air, but none seemed to be worried by the tiny tongues of flame falling over them. Which made Luca’s think about one of the Death Rules for a splint second.

  The sudden vision of scarlet mushroom hat that flickered above the heads of everyone made him come back to the present.

  “Alright, we’ve ended with the good~” The voice changed, turning deeper and meanly. “Time to kick the trash out.”

  “But there’s two hats left!” One of the aspirants bravely yelled. Luca recognized them as one who had been got a bland reaction from Chef Dominatom. Which meant that wasn’t reduced to ashes or deep humiliation but was given a look that clearly said everything that had to be said. There had been a ‘tag’ of ‘confusing’ attached to their dish (a hellish variation of a burger).

  The audience grew silent after the outburst –and then they chanted “two hats left!” with a cheerfulness that remained Luca’s of the ghostly visitors from his first Mystery. He didn’t knew knowledge from another life to felt that this wasn’t good. The sudden chills, the tension that started to bubble was more than enough.

  The presenter spun around in a quick, graceful motion, turning toward the thrones. “You heard the aspirant and our dear audience, my judges. What you do think to show some grace…?”

  If there was one thing that had to be acknowledged, it was that the shadowy figure knew exactly what to say – but rather than a silver tongue, theirs was as black as the coal they tossed into the fire to fuel it.

  “Grace?” Chef Dominatom snarled as smoke started to come out from his head. “I’ll give you all the grace you deserve and more!”

  With such wonderful, emotional words the demon opened his mouth and let out a wave of white fire that spread swallowed the whole platform. The intense heat and the strength of the flames made the aspirants in the frontline to threw themselves back, which in turn made the rest behind them step back. Some not quite elegantly. Stumbling and failing was a well way to describe it.

  Accidentally shielded by the wings of one of the applicants, Luca thought it had truly been a stroke of genius to hang back, as he doubted he would have survived that. The smell of burnt hair and skin reached his nose as he began to stand up — the rest of the applicants rising as well, all tense and highly alert.

  "Looks like there will be fewer contestants this season," the shadowy figure remarked casually, perfectly still and without a single dark strand singed. Surprisingly, or at least that's how it seemed to the audience who gasped and wildly applauded, there were survivors besides the kitchen stations.

  Three, to be exact. One from each of those chosen by each chef.

  Chef Dominatom snorted at the words or perhaps at the survivors themselves, or the whole situation, before leaning back on his throne. The other two judges didn’t seem surprised for such outburst. Chef Tartarus was grinning with an unholy gleam in his eyes even. Did the demon enjoy such scenes? How surprising.

  “Very good! Congratulations for surviving the last assessment!” The presentation cheered. “This is yours-”with a snap of their fingers, the hats flew to the aspirants and fell down over their heads. “You may go and rest until the start of the First Challenge. Give our first Participants an applause as a short goodbye!”

  A feeling of foreboding scratched Luca’s mind as he watched the three survivors left through the door that had emerged out of thin air, floating over the lava. It did not appear that any of them were afraid of falling –and they didn’t fail for what he was able to see.

  “Now the first round has come to end, it’s time for the next one to start!”

  Yaay.