The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 516

Chapter 516: Against the Flow

Brusque and insolent as the introduction came to be, the visible reaction didn’t show ill-will. Instead, having had such thoughts about an innocent boy who all but wanted to cook, shook their very cores. As the seconds felt like hours, allowing silence, allowing the cameras to fix on his face, and allowing for Emi’s startled mind to reestablish, felt satisfying. Leaving people speechless, turning the opinions onto its head, Kyle watched silently. The other participants gazed coyly with lessened nerves. A blatant entrance dazzled their minds into focus.

“Well then,” said she gathering her thoughts, “-welcome to Cle, Igna Haggard. You sure are confident in saying what you said. Without wasting time, let the competition begin.” The ten split into groups of five and dispersed across the stations. Kyle and Igna were closest to the audience – the broadcasters cherished the thought of promotion.

‘Entering the arena as the villain...’ thought Lia sharing the second row of seats with people of repute. Mainly, Suga and Dei from Xius, a few movie stars hailing from Alphia, and single artists from Hidros. The line-up wasn’t as star-stuttered as one would have come to expect... still, the presence couldn’t be laughed at either. Two gems shone brightly to catch the mouth and ears of wives, “-Prince Julius and Princess Lizzie are here.” Sat high on above in a remote-viewing booth, the young princess dangled her feet innocently, the Prince viewed with a critical eye. Numerous guards were about; looking back for a cheeky peak ensured the wrath of their glares. Lady Haru, Lady Courtney, and Lady Elvira were also present.

Below, the competitors brought ingredients of the highest quality. Some went as far as to have the meat brought in alive until an hour before the contest. The difference in cooking stations showed the cook’s finances. Some held silver knives and forks, others were rustically decorated as shown by the 8th participant Hanlo and his wooden style design.

Kyle brought venison allied with countless vegetables and rare spices. A four-doored fridge remained at his side as well as numerous appliances for ease of movement. The way he went from one place to another showed the skill it took to be the best. Soon after, the flavor and scent of the meals enshrouded the theater.

“Yuki,” said a voice beaten by old age and senseless screaming, “-might I ask why that boy spoke and challenged you in such a tone?”

“Yes,” interjected Yanni, “-he came up front and rejected thy name. The image of him stepping over the prestigious Loron’s apron does raise questions. Did that old habit of yours get in the way, were you perhaps a little sadistic in training?”

.....

“Shut up,” the voice glazed the aura, “-I don’t want to talk about it.”

“As you wish,” said Mr. Amsey locking onto the participants.

Emi gave insightful commentary on what procedures and methods of preparation, all were hard at work, except for one, Igna. “So, Kyle, what are you making?” thirty-minutes had passed.

“A staple of fine-dining,” said he cleaning his hands, “-a dish I very much enjoyed when I was little. Of course,” he moved to another spot, “-it’s going to be more exquisite than I remember, nonetheless, the dish will speak for itself.”

“On another note,” she closed it coyly, “-any thoughts on Igna’s cooking, he hasn’t moved since speaking those ambitious words.”

“I rather not get involved to the likes of him, damned bastard,” the last part went unnoticed. And so, in the same manner, she went about the stage chatting and gave ample entertainment in the otherwise boring display.

No time-limit was imposed on the cooks. However, it was common sense to have the meals readied in less than five hours. The judges were now surrounding the stage as if soldiers planning an ambush, they hid in the shadows and took note of the various techniques. Remember, it wasn’t all about the taste, often, most came down to the personal touch of the person.

“Igna Haggard,” said she approaching his table, “-you haven’t begun thy dish, is something the matter?” The boy stood silently with arms crossed.

“Hello, are you nervous?” she intruded into his personal space.

“Emi Muko, please,” said he coldly, “-you don’t have to pry so much,” at least, he moved to the plain-cooking station. Nothing stood out, no personalization, nor effort, tis the blandest contraption one could have seen.

“It’s my job,” said she following his steps, “-the other contestants are already a third way done, their masterpieces reflect how much effort they’ve put in... standing here and doing nothing is disrespectful to those working hard,” her thoughts amplified her tone into one of a lecture.

“Shut it,” he glared, “-I’ll cook however I want, now, please get away from here, it’s going to get scary.”

“Scary...?” it hung on their minds, how could cooking be anymore frightful than chopping vegetables. The crowd moved to the edge of their seats. ‘Why are they so interested?’ snickered Kyle, ‘-he hasn’t cooked anything and the crowd are so zoned in on him after a single movement,’ he took an unfinished dish out the oven, ‘-why aren’t the cameras looking at me?’ the massive screen displayed Igna.

“Miss Muko,” he whispered.

“Yes?” she turned, “-something the matter?”

“No, not really,” the hands moved under the cover of the cutlery, “-I have a question.”

“Yes, what might that be, if it’s about time-limit, there’s none,” the rhetoric garnered a few chuckles out the audience.

“Wrong,” said he holding half a smirk, “-everyone here is using a style of cooking born from the same principle of making food. At the end of the day, one comes in one end, gets out the other. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Some people eat people and animals eat other animals. The former may be shunned in our day and age... still, the stained past can’t be forgotten.”

“We’re in Cle, not some channel about history. Are you done?”

“Ah yes,” he sighed deeply, “-the world never accepts what doesn’t conform to reality. You’re a perfect example, a lady who hails from Arda, your past...” he stopped, “-never mind, what is done is done,” the movements grew sharper, “-and today, I’ll show you my way of cooking. *SNAP,* the atmosphere froze, the fear of death loomed instantly across the hearts of many – guards pointed guns on stage, “-Dungeon-styled Cooking.” Live monsters were pulled out of portals from left and right, the hands killed, drained, skinned, and prepared the meat without wasted motions. In no way was it dirty or disgusting, the inherent feeling of nausea couldn’t be sensed.

‘This is the best dish I can make at the moment. Piglet showed me how to blend monster-meat and use the tinge of their odor to my advantage.’

“Igna?” approached Emi, “-what are you preparing?”

“Haven’t given it a name yet,” *slash,* the torso of a chimera sliced into tiny slices before hitting the floor. Two scabbards and one blade. The muscle memory from the years of fighting reawakened. He’d swap one end to the other, single strokes that prepared what he needed.

“The monsters,” said she, “-are they alive?”

“Yes,” he smiled, “-I was waiting for a portal to be built.”

“What do you mean?” she prodded further.

“It doesn’t matter to you,” he laughed, “-go annoy someone else.”

Dungeon-Style cooking was brought into the sanctuary of Cle. Multiple judges were held in chokeholds for wanting to jump on stage and stop Igna. The critics and chefs bared frown sharp as fangs. Almost everyone had the same reaction, ‘-the shunned style of cooking, what is he thinking?’

The audience’s curiosity shifted to annoyance. They felt betrayed, waiting for so long to pull up such a prank, it didn’t bode well. Especially since the silence lit a spark of chit-chat.

“How amusing,” said Kyle, “-you’ve dug yourself a grave. How pathetic, I thought it would be a battle I’d remember. I mean, who cares, I’m going to make Loron proud for endorsing me instead of you, damned pest. I’ll show you the talent and hard work needed to succeed in this industry.”

“Oh, shut it,” said he talking down to Kyle, “-what industry, a place of gluttony and unnecessary babble about prestige and pedigree. No one wants to experiment, I don’t see innovation... Forgive me, I mean to say, those who innovate are shunned, I know many cooks who haven’t followed any cooking lessons and still have more character than the ones cooking here. Tasteless, all of you.” Anger boiled from emotion to physical, the only outlet was the station.

What he said sent waves across the Arcanum, those following online were impressed at how he didn’t conform to what was there. The rules didn’t matter to him, a true rebel in the flesh. Normally, such statements would have had him thrown out of the castle, however, Phantom’s primary sponsorship gave immunity.

Across the distasteful comments and mumbled insults of those in the know, a certain someone watched with a grin.

“Mentor,” cried Yanni, “-why are you grinning?”

“Huh?” turned Yuki, “-master is laughing, I haven’t seen it since...”

“That boy is amazing,” said he softly, “-Oh Yuki, you spotted a diamond in the rough but couldn’t see his real worth. All you did was dust off the gem, not polish it. The only one fit to train him is Chef Leko, I’m sure he realizes it by now. Cle isn’t important to Igna, just look at those eyes, he’s doing this to be acknowledged by a single person, and I’m sure he’s smiling with tears. Go on, look at the crowd, a single person is standing up.”

It was true enough, Chef Leko stood proudly and wept silently. Dungeon-Style Cooking, one he wanted to bring to the main-stream, one he wanted to discover the potential alongside other capable people. ‘Igna, you’re amazing,’ thought he, ‘-for someone who doesn’t remember anything about his past – I’m proud. I’m glad Guild Leader Haru brought him to my doorstep.’

Minutes turned to hours; the discontent spread without stop. Meals were readied, some tasted, and some were told to sit and wait. One by one, the stage emptied leaving Kyle and Igna as the last two. They finished at the same time as fate would have it, the final moments of Cle came suddenly, chatter turned to silence. Crest on the chest and red-collars around their neck, the judges approached at last. Most didn’t even look at Igna, the disrespect the boy displayed and using a rejected style garnered prejudice before evaluation. Kyle sensed the discord, he all but smiled, the dish he gave for examination received praises of the highest-degree. In the end, none even dared touch Igna’s plate.

“Looks like you’ve lost without even fighting,” winked Kyle. Still, he didn’t move nor flinch.

‘Chef Leko, did I do you proud,’ thought he, ‘-was it worth it?’

“Who would have thought,” said Emi over the microphone, “-this is the first time the judges have refused to taste a dish. I suppose it means one thing,” the crowd couldn’t contain the joy of defeating a villain, “-he’s failed the-”

“Hold on a moment,” said a dusty voice clambering up the stairs, “-it’s not fair.”

“Lord Amsey and Chef Agneo, what brings you here?” returned the startled Emi.

“I want to taste both their dishes.” Not that it was strange for a leader of the association to personally assess the participants, it sure was rare. The last memorable time he intervened was during Chef Leko’s trial.

Lord Amsey, the dictator of the institute, was feared by many in the culinary world. In his prime, the man was fiercer than Yuki and Yanni, none can dare argue the heritage under his belt. *Munch,* first was Kyle, the reaction remained more or less the same.

“Good,” said Agneo following behind, “-impressive for your age. There are more things you can improve upon; hard work is present. A virtuoso of ingredients, the name suits you very well.”

Then came Igna, “-tell me, boy,” wondered the old man, “-the wine you used, it’s not normal, is it?”

“Yes,” returned he with a smile, “-it’s the Blood of an Elder Dragon.”