“Now the first round has come to end, it’s time for the next one to start!” The shadowy figure smiled, a crimson abyss where its mouth should be. “So, put your all in the table, second round!”

  Morrigan had been part of the third round in the book. However, Luca had a hunch at that moment —perhaps because the moment the host said the last words, he felt it. A cold finger running down his spine. Their glance. And then, whit a simple snap of their fingers, light bloomed around him.

  It enveloped him.

  He closed his eyes instinctively, and could feel the change in his surroundings. When he opened them, the lava was less than a meter of distance. It was a whole surprise that the heat wasn’t so consuming to make him lose consciousness at that very moment.

  Luca blinked, glancing around. Among their competence were the imp and the jackal’s head demon –and a bunch of others that he recalled seeing in the frontline.

  So this time he chose a mix, he thought, returning to his attention to the black box in the counter in front of him. Now that he was in front of the kitchen station, he found that it wasn’t really so different from the human world. He hoped that his experience and his ‘skill’ allowed him to put something good on the dish. No. More than ‘hope’ –he had to be sure that he’d do.

  There was no room for failure when was his soul which was on the table.

  "The conditions are the same as the previous round," the host announced cheerfully. "Your thirty minutes start right now!"

  The box opened by itself, revealing what at first glance looked like a worm as wide as an arm, with a sticky surface and a deep crimson color. However, the label that popped up above it revealed its identity.

  [Abyssal Serpent]

  [Eel]

  Ah, this… It was a quite ugly thing to work with. However, it didn’t seem that the other participants had any trouble. Luca directed his gaze toward the rest of the ingredients surrounding the 'main piece' while vaguely hearing his competitors begin to move. It was no surprise everyone was rushing, considering the little time they had to make something 'worthy' of the judges.

  [Evil Root | Potatoes]

  [Weeping Eyes| Onions]

  [Fresh Bloody Essence | Red Wine]

  [Deepthseeds | Garlic]

  Looking at the ‘labels’ floating around some of the ingredients, he already had an idea of what he could make. A dish he had prepared before, although it had been years ago.

  … But how could he forget the ‘priceless’ dish that so many clients had enjoyed, claiming it was the chef’s specialty, one that was only made once in a blue moon? The same dish that a humble all-round employee had to cook for himself when the graceful chef didn’t manage to get out of bed after a lively night.

  Not wasting more time, Luca picked up the knife and begun. He moved with practiced precision, pinning the creature down despite its slipperiness and cut its head cleanly. His hands felt icky by the mucous-like ‘coat’ of the surface but he ignored it in favor of something that gave him a stronger impression: the smell. It was… similar than he recalled but it had something more. But when he opened the body with a thin line, a lighter red flesh and a dark spine emerged, without a hint of blood or organs despite the layer of fat.

  Alright. I can work with this.

  As he begun cleating it, the host drifted lazily across the platform, a dark figure popping up from time to time on the corner of his eyes. To Luca’s surprise, their voice spread around the place above the sounds of cooking and the bubbling lava.

  "Ah, Chef," they purred, "what do you think so far? Any early favorites?"

  So they had gone to the judges.

  Dominatom sneered, tapping his fingers impatiently against the armrest of his stone chair. The sound was clear, like it was being reproduced from high quality equipment. It was from the eyes floating around, it seemed.

  "Too soon to tell," he snapped, apparently not keen on playing the nice game with the host. "But if I catch even a whiff of spice from any of them..." There was no need to make it clear considering the previous scene, right?

  The host chuckled like it was only a joke. "Oh, come now, Chef. Surely you can appreciate a little... heat?"

  Laugh bloomed from the grades as a crimson flower.

  Meanwhile, Chef Tartarus bellowed, "A little heat? Bah! Give me flavor! Give me life! If this dish doesn’t make my throat bleed, why bother at all?"

  It was a figure of speech —or so Luca told himself as he tossed the rest of ‘vegetables’ in the pot after setting aside the eel that had finished browning smoothly. The smell wasn’t bad. Perhaps only different from what he could expect according his experience. But… he it was something expected. The key was not to fall prey of the uneasiness brought by putting his soul in the result of a dish. It wasn’t like he was blindly cooking.

  [Browned Abyssal Serpent |Browned Eel]

  A simple ‘label’ should be enough, right?

  “Angra’s blood!” a voice he had heard before cursed in the station next to him. Luca spared it a glance, noticing the imp struggling to cut the eel, but quickly returned to his work. Time was slipping away too fast through his fingers for distractions.

  Building the stew base was going pretty well. He reached for the bottle of Fresh Bloody Essence and poured a generous quantity of it on the pot. The best part was that the heat from the ‘stove’ worked better than human ones, which meant that it took less time to reduce the wine the amount he wanted.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The aroma rose, a rich scent in the sea of surrounding chaos.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  He picked up the herbs and wrapped it into a bundle tightly, he dropped it into the wine reduction. It didn’t take too long for a description to appear above the pot.

  [Bloody Surprise Stew | Aromatic Red Wine Stew]

  …Not bad.

  When he added the eel, the label faded.

  Luca could only wait for now, carefully controlling the dish.

  “Ten minutes left!” the host called out cheerfully.

  After such words, chaos erupted around– hisses and growls spread on the room from frustrated participants. With only a look around, Luca could see the labels flickering above the other kitchen stations –words like ‘Uncooked’ or ‘Burn’ overlapped with ‘Grilled’ and ‘Boiled’, even ‘Deep-fried’.

  As he turned his eyes at his pot, snippets of conversation drifted past—most notably, an escalating argument not far from him.

  Those involved? They were ‘familiar’. Or was better to said that they had ‘history’ together?

  "You incompetent little maggot!" the black-winged demon snarled. There was something dripping from their wings, while a pot lay in the floor.

  "Oh, shove off, you oversized bat!" the imp retorted, not an ounce of fear against a bigger opponent. "If you hadn't been crowding me, this wouldn't have happened!"

  Before things could escalate further, the host materialized between them, their presence immediately silencing both parties. "Now, now," they cooed, their tone dripping with a false joviality. " We’ve got bigger snakes to fry, haven’t?”

  The audience ‘booed’ when both demons returned to their tasks, grumbling to themselves. Well. It looked like they wanted to see some blood. How surprising.

  Minutes flew like seconds. Without warning, the host declared, "Three minutes remaining!"

  And then it was when panic, real panic surged among the platform. It was worse than before —pans clattered, ingredients were hastily thrown together, and curses flew freely like the little eyes fluttering around. More accidents happened and the number of labels multiplied.

  Luca focused on his own dish, counting the seconds on his head, barely paying attention at the eye circling around his station. The last time he uncovered the pot and the right label flickered above it, he turned off the stove and started platting.

  Thirty seconds left, he mused, as he arranged the tender pieces of the ‘Abyssal Serpent’ atop three strips of sauce, and garnished it with a sprinkle of Deepthseeds and well-seasoned Evil Root cubes.

  "Ten seconds, my dears!" the host announced. Their voice cutt through the frantic energy with obvious delight as they dance through the platform like a vulture. "Nine… eight… seven…"

  A sudden splash erupted from the lava below, drawing the attention of some. A piranha-like creature with bloody red eyes launched itself onto the platform, jaws snapping viciously. It landed directly next the competitor stationed in front of Luca and it less than a split of second dragged them into the inferno below.

  The demon had not even time to scream.

  Fuck. Luca felt the urgent temptation of stepping aside from the edge —like three meters aside. Hopefully next time it wouldn’t be him at his side.

  Wait. The First Challenge wasn’t in this location.

  "...three… two… one…" The host paused dramatically, surveying the scene with evident amusement. Of course that guy didn’t even bother to say something about the sudden ‘accident’. It didn’t matter in comparison with —"Time's up!"

  Silence fell over the arena but it only lasted a split second.

  broken only by the faint crackle of flames and the distant cheers of the demon audience.

  Luca exhaled slowly, stepping back from his station to examine his finished dish. Above it hovered the labels:

  [Stewed Abyss Serpent with Bloody Sauce and Evil Roots]

  [Stewed Eel with Red Wine Sauce and Potatoes]

  Well. It probably wasn't perfect, but it was good. Good enough to keep his soul intact.

  The host glided to the center of the platform, drawing all eyes toward them with a dramatic gesture of his arm. “And now," they announced, "the moment you've all been waiting for… time to watch if our dear aspirants have what takes to survive the hellfire or will be burned to a crisp!”

  The countertops, the kitchen stations disappeared, leaving behind only the dishes ‘floating’ on the air. Luca repressed the temptation of holding it, knowing it wasn’t necessary and would only bring unwanted attention. There hadn’t been a single case of a dish failing down since the show’s inception… according the book.

  Chef Dominatom leaned forward in his throne, eyes intense, while Chef Harpira sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression impassive as a mighty statue of marble. Chef Tartarus rubbed his hands together and grinned widely, clearly relishing the opportunity.

  As the audience cheered, the host declared, “judgment time begins!"

  Then the chefs stood up and the massacre started.

  Luca was positioned on the extreme opposite side, meaning he would be judged at the last of this row. Nine dishes stood between him –which for what he saw, weren’t not exactly the best. He didn't care for the 'translation'.

  [Sharped Abyssal Serpent with Romarin]

  [Uncooked Abyssal Serpent Balls]

  [Unseasoned Boiled Abyssal Serpent]

  Chef Dominatom strode over to the first dish, a chaotic mess of ingredients that looked more like the aftermath of a kitchen disaster than something edible. The chef barely gave it a second glance before taking a bite, but he didn’t even swallow before his expression twisted into a dark expression.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” he spat, tossing the fork back onto the plate with unnecessary force, smoke coming out from his head.

  “No –no,” the aspirant hurried up to said, “I doesn’t have spice-”they started, their tail quivering in fear.

  Luca wanted desperately for the demon to shut down. He was arguing against a fire-breathing killer machine with bad temper!

  Th chef sneered. “Forget the spice! This is nothing but carbonized bones. Do you even cook once before coming here?” He then looked at the host. "What the fuck is your lot doing for the initial screening? Are you getting special favors or something?"

  After such a declaration, the audience erupted into boos, jeers, and mocking laughter, drowning out any other protests from the unfortunate cook. But the evaluation proceeded without anyone being killed, at least for now. Although, considering the host's sudden chilling aura...

  Why wasn’t this chatty fellow replying to this? It had already been made clear that there was no love lost between both sides.

  Next, Chef Harpira approached the second dish. She inspected it briefly, her lips pressing into a thin line before she sampled it. Her response was a single, frosty word. “Unpalatable.”

  Finally, Chef Tartarus lumbered up to the third dish and took a hearty bite, chewing thoughtfully before spitting it out. “Bah! So fucking boring!”

  And so the judgment kept going on.