The ‘pattern’, if this could be called like that, didn’t improve after such start.

  It was as if the competitors had collectively received a “worst of all wins” challenge and run with it wholeheartedly —or they had found the aspirants along the road.

  Naturally, the judges’ humor deteriorated—from comments like “mediocre” to outright dismissals, testing each dish with growing disinterest. By the time the eighth dish arrived, even the audience seemed annoyed, their boos morphing into low growls and hissings. Luca glanced at the platform, wondering if there was some invisible barrier between the aspirants and the judges, because the crowd looked ready to throw themselves over the railing —or better say, to tackle them to the lava themselves.

  The eighth dish belonged to the black-winged demon.

  Chef Tartarus stepped forward, plucking a piece of eel—Abyssal Serpent—from the plate and tossing it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before glancing back at the presentation: thin, long strips of meat arranged in a colorful spiral, surrounded by meticulously placed vegetables.

  It looked like it could be a hit.

  With an indifferent shrug, the chef muttered, “Meh.”

  Luca’s eyes darted quickly to the floating bubble boxes above the dishes:

  [Blue Abyssal Serpent]

  [Half-Crude Abyssal Serpent Strips]

  Hmm. Judging by the aspirant’s nervousness and the labels, it seemed… not great. But it shouldn’t be too bad, right?

  Meanwhile, the imp’s dish—and the one preceding Luca’s—landed under Chef Harpira’s sharp, glacial gaze. She studied the arrangement of thin, short slices of meat, scrutinizing every detail. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a cold feeling of finality.

  “Could be better.”

  The imp deflated instantly, muttering curses under their breath.

  But Luca had no time—or attention—to spare for anyone else now.

  It was his turn.

  Chef Dominatom approached his kitchen station with slow, deliberate steps, like a predator stalking its prey. The intensity in the demon’s eyes reminded Luca sharply of that moment on the bus when the giant carnivore loomed less than a meter away. The handful of moments like that.

  When the chef stopped in front of Luca’s stew, his piercing gaze locked onto the plate. For a brief moment, Luca felt the weight of expectation pressing down on him like a crushing tsunami. He felt tempted to look down. But –no demon, until now, had looked away. That Death Rule ‘Don’t let them know you’re human’ – and the ‘experience’ of the characters made him force himself to remain still, to meet the pressure head-on.

  “Ha.” To Luca’s surprise, Dominatom chuckled, picking up a spoon and scooping a generous portion of the stew. He examined it closely for a moment before bringing it to his mouth and chewing. His expression remained unreadable—but importantly, no smoke rose from his head. So the food couldn’t bad.

  It must be good, Luca thought. It has to be.

  Finally, Dominatom swallowed. His face betrayed neither satisfaction nor disdain, but he offered a simple, almost casual sentence:

  “Not bad.”

  The chef set the cutlery back on the plate and moved on to the next aspirant without so much as acknowledging Luca’s quiet “Thank you, chef.” The two other chef move in too without a second glance or comment.

  It didn’t matter. Luca could finally breathe.

  The rest of the evaluations passed more quickly than Luca expected—or perhaps it was because he wasn’t paying as close attention anymore. There were no real surprises after all. Only one aspirant earned a favorable nod from Chef Dominatom near the end: the jackal-headed demon. Unfortunately, Luca had no idea what the demon had prepared.

  The Tears of Discernment had faded.

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  After all eighteen dishes were tasted, the shadowy host emerged at the center of the platform, drawing everyone’s focus as the judges returned to their thrones.

  “Well,” the host began, their tone laced with amusement, “that concludes our second round of evaluation—or the boring part, at least!” A wave of murmurs rippled through the audience, some cheering while others booed loudly. “Don’t fret—we’re already at the heart of the round! It’s time to announce who among you will advance to become official Participants.” They paused dramatically, letting the weight of their words settle. “Judges?”

  “Aspirant 10 and 20,” Chef Dominatom declared without hesitation.

  Luca exhaled quietly. Him… and Jackal-head.

  Chef Harpira followed. “Aspirant 9.”

  “Aspirant 8 and 14,” the bear-like judge concluded, his smile carrying a predatory edge.

  “Ohh—only five? We’ve barely got three left from before. Judges…” The shadowy figure sighed, bringing a hand to their face. “Are you three trying to make Production cry?”

  The audience laughed, but Chef Dominatom merely sneered. “Why do you want more? There’s only one winner.”

  So, second and third place didn’t matter for him, huh? Looking at the other judges, it seemed like that didn’t set well with them. But they didn’t say anything. And, besides them, this time, none of the rejected aspirants dared to protest.

  With a second, deeper sigh, the host shook their head. “Alright. Time is running! New Participants, please proceed that way.” With a snap of their fingers, a pair of doors materialized—identical to those from the first round. “The rest…” Their gaze swept over the slumped or weeping aspirants. “Goodbye! Don’t forget to give our program a good rating~”

  The host hadn’t finished speaking before a handful of piranhas leapt out of the lava—hideous creatures with rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  But obedience, maintained until now, didn’t guarantee calm in moments of desperation, did it?

  Aspirant 15 —a sturdy, horned demon— screamed as a piranha landed beside them but different to the majority of the losers, who were quickly taken as snacks, the horned-demon managed to sprint straight toward one of the other kitchen stations: Aspirant 14’s. They then picked up the gnome-like demon —who let out a shrill and try to bite their hands— and hurled them to the creature.

  The piranha devoured Aspirant 14 and dove back into the lava.

  “It worked!” Aspirant 15 yelled, their breathing ragged.

  The audience erupted in laughter, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle. Sparkles even bloomed from the grades, signaling their approval.

  “Oh—what a twist!” The host’s voice dripped with amusement.

  Luca’s eyes darted around, scanning for any other ‘rejected’ aspirants who might be considering similar desperate measures. His gaze locked onto one competitor from the opposite row—the exact moment they managed to evade a piranha. Their eyes flicked toward the side where three Participants stood, and without hesitation, they sprinted straight for—

  Ah. It was fortunate that Luca had wandered into the training room the previous day, preparing himself for scenarios just like this. With a single thought, he felt the familiar bitter burning sensation rising in his throat.

  [Perk: Acid active.]

  As the demon lunged toward him, hands outstretched and ready to use him as a shield, weaving around the kitchen station to close the distance—

  Luca opened his mouth and spat. A glob of acid shot through the air, striking their face with unerring precision. The aspirant shrieked, clutching at their ruined features as the corrosive substance ate away half of their face. They stumbled backward, crashing into the kitchen station.

  At that precise moment, the piranha seized its chance, leaping onto the incapacitated demon before dragging them both back into the lava.

  Nothing remained of the aspirant except the acrid smell of acid lingering in the air.

  “Another twist!” The host sounded delighted, clearly relishing the chaos. The audience roared with approval, their cheers blending with the irritating clamor of the grading system.

  Yet, despite the noise, Luca could hear the faint hum of the floating camera eye circling him. He knew this was a critical moment to dispel any suspicion about his humanity. He lacked the flashy traits most demons flaunted—no horns, no wings, no scales. Nothing. But acid? That wasn’t something a human would possess. Still, it wouldn’t be enough unless he followed up correctly.

  Luca smiled—a calm, composed smile—and reached for a napkin to dab at his mouth.

  “Well, now that only four Participants remain, you should take a rest while we move on to the third round,” the host announced, gesturing toward the doors hovering near the platform. “Chop-chop, Participants!”

  Four Participants.

  So the surviving demon wasn’t counted among the chosen… Luca caught a whiff of something foul—metaphorically speaking. Something didn’t sit right. However, he didn’t sit there and waited for that something to happen –he began approaching the doors. He wasn’t the only one, of course.

  Jackal-head was the first to step through, holding the door open just enough for Luca to glimpse the darkness beyond. He had some idea about what could be but... only a small idea. The ‘resting zone’ was different for each round and Morrigan had gone in the third one. The only thing he knew it was… that demons and humans had a different vision of what meant to ‘rest’.

  “Now, there’s been some mess left in the kitchens, so let me do a quick cleanup—” the host said, nonchalantly.

  Luca had barely set foot inside when the sharp snap of fingers echoed behind him—and a powerful wave swept across the entire area. The pressure shoved him forward violently —and without being able to do anything, he found himself tumbling into a void.