The arena lights dimmed.
A hush fell over the crowd — as if the entire Silver Spoon City held its breath.
After two blazing rounds, both chefs stood on the stage, faces set, hearts steady. The air buzzed faintly with mana.
The announcer raised his hand dramatically.
"Ladies and gentlemen! The third and final round — Dessert Duel!"
The crowd cheered wildly, banners waving.
"The ingredient that will decide the champion…"
He gestured to the silver dome at the center.
"—is none other than… Dreamfruit!"
The lid lifted.
A crystal-like fruit glimmered beneath, colors swirling within it like a living rainbow. The scent drifted softly — nostalgic, comforting, haunting.
Maris whispered, "Dreamfruit… I've only read about it. It takes on the flavor of your emotions while cooking."
Luna blinked. "So it changes taste based on feelings?"
"Exactly," Ethan said. "You can't fake it. Whatever's in your heart ends up on the plate."
---
Across the field, Gareth smiled — a sharp, confident smile.
"Perfect. Emotion or not, skill always wins."
He cracked his knuckles and snapped at his assistants. "Prep the sugar cores. We're going with Spirit Crystal Pudding."
Luna tilted her head. "Spirit… what?"
Maris frowned. "That's forbidden Guild technique. It binds mana crystals into sugar networks — unstable, but incredibly beautiful."
"Beautiful," Ethan said quietly, "until it shatters."
He placed a single Dreamfruit on his board. The Infernal Stove's flame glowed gold-blue, pulsing softly, almost like a heartbeat.
He didn't rush. Didn't plan a complex recipe.
He simply closed his eyes and remembered.
---
In his mind, the noise of the arena faded.
He saw an old kitchen — small, smoky, warm.
A gentle voice humming behind him.
A wooden spoon stirring soup.
His mother's laughter.
Her cooking — simple, heartfelt, never perfect, but always comforting.
She used to say: "Good food doesn't need to impress. It just needs to heal."
When Ethan opened his eyes, the Infernal Stove flared brighter, responding to the memory.
"Luna," he said softly, "start peeling the Dreamfruit. Gently. Keep the juice."
"Right!"
"Maris, heat milk and frostvine essence together — low flame."
Maris nodded, glancing at him curiously. "You're calm."
"I'm cooking a memory," he said. "Not a battle."
---
Meanwhile, Gareth was pure spectacle.
Lightning flashed around his station as sugar strands crystallized midair, forming shimmering towers. His assistants moved like dancers. Every motion perfect, mechanical.
He layered his pudding in glass molds, shimmering like jewels. "Let's see him beat this."
The crowd gasped in awe. His dessert looked divine — glowing, alive, perfection given form.
---
Ethan's side was quiet.
No explosions. No flashes. Just rhythm.
He sliced Dreamfruit thinly, each piece glowing faintly. He simmered it slowly with frostvine milk and ember honey, stirring carefully. The smell drifted upward — not sharp, not grand, but soft. Like a memory you didn't know you missed.
Luna sniffed, eyes wide. "Chef… why do I feel like crying?"
He smiled faintly. "Because you're remembering something good."
The Infernal Stove pulsed, steady and warm. It no longer looked fierce — it looked alive. Every bubble, every shimmer matched his heartbeat.
He added a final touch — a thin glaze of sugar, just barely caramelized, enough to hold warmth in place. Then he plated it simply — no decoration, no garnish.
A single Dreamfruit Custard, soft and glowing faintly gold.
---
"Time!"
Both chefs stepped back.
The judges approached — tension thicker than thunderclouds.
First, Gareth's Spirit Crystal Pudding.
They took careful bites, their eyes widening as colors shimmered through the glass.
"It's extraordinary," one said. "Perfect balance, texture, and presentation."
Another nodded. "Flawless technique."
But the third frowned slightly. "And yet… it feels empty. Like it's missing something."
Gareth's jaw tightened. "It's perfection itself. It needs nothing."
Then they turned to Ethan's dish.
The first judge lifted a spoonful of the simple custard.
The moment it touched his tongue, his shoulders trembled.
Then another bite.
Silence.
The crowd leaned forward.
One by one, the judges' expressions softened. Eyes glistening, they set their spoons down slowly.
The lead judge's voice cracked slightly.
"It… tastes like home."
The second nodded. "It's not showy, not powerful… but it makes you remember your happiest meal."
The third whispered, "This isn't cooking. It's love, solidified."
The entire arena went silent.
Then, a roar like thunder — cheering, crying, laughter all at once.
---
The announcer raised his trembling hand.
"By unanimous decision… the winner of the Silver Spoon Tournament… Chef Ethan of Crescent Moon Inn!"
Luna screamed with joy, hugging Maris. "We did it! We really did it!"
Maris smiled — small, proud, and maybe a little emotional herself. "You did it, Chef."
Ethan looked down at his simple plate, still warm in his hands.
He smiled faintly. "We did. All of us."
---
Across the arena, Gareth stood silently. His perfect crystal pudding shimmered beside him — untouched.
He walked over slowly, stopping in front of Ethan.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Gareth sighed and extended his hand. "That… was the most humiliating and inspiring defeat of my life."
Ethan shook his hand firmly. "Cooking's not about winning."
Gareth chuckled dryly. "Tell that to the Guild."
Then, quieter, "You've changed this world, you know."
Ethan looked at his glowing Infernal Stove, its golden flame pulsing softly. "Maybe. Or maybe this world just needed to remember what food is for."
---
The arena's lights brightened again as the crowd chanted his name.
Ethan of Crescent Moon Inn — the chef who made fire gentle, thunder sweet, and dreams edible.
He looked toward the horizon, feeling something stir deep inside him — a sense that this was only the beginning.
Because beyond this tournament lay something far greater — the origin of the Infernal Stove, the mystery of Spirit Cuisine, and the path to becoming… the Legendary Chef.
To be continued...