Chapter 39: The Duel and the Brawl Outside the Ring 

The one who burst into the audience chamber with a bizarre, almost animalistic cry was a man sporting a small mustache and dressed head to toe in a chef’s uniform.

“Your Majesty!! Where is this famous cook I’ve been hearing so much about?!”

“Ah, Tardolf. I was just in the middle of persuading Eight.”

“Y-You! Are you the cook who bewitched the Saint with your food?!”

“Wha—!?”

The man called Tardolf strode toward me with heavy, determined steps, his boots thudding against the floor.

Then, just as he reached out to grab me by the collar—

“Alright, stop right there. Mind not coming any closer?”

“What is the meaning of this?! A mere day-labor adventurer has no business interrupting a discussion between cooks!”

“Well, I happen to be his bodyguard.”

Kirara smoothly stepped between Tardolf and me, cutting him off before he could get any closer.

“Th-Thank you, Kirara.”

“No need to thank me. More importantly, who’s this uncle with the completely unhinged stare?”

“You dare say you do not know me?! I am Tardolf, Head Court Chef of the Royal Palace! The man responsible for preparing meals for His Majesty and the entire royal family!”

“Oh. That’s actually pretty amazing.”

I genuinely meant it.

Preparing food for royalty had to come with tremendous responsibility. A chef entrusted with such a role must possess extraordinary skill.

That sincere admiration, however, somehow had the opposite effect.

“I accept your challenge, boy!!”

“Huh!? W-Wait, I wasn’t challenging you at all!”

“Do not play innocent with me! Cardinal Larsa told me everything! She said you are an expert in the cuisine of another world! That you have captivated the Saint with your cooking! The very Saint who never so much as smiles after eating my dishes has become completely enchanted by yours!”

When Cardinal Larsa comes to visit next time, maybe I should ban her from snacks.

“No, really… I’m sure Raphiel-sama only likes my food because it’s unusual. There’s no way I could compare to someone like you, a royal court chef—”

“No. While it is true that Eight’s dishes are unlike anything we have here, they all possess a warm, homely flavor. Every one of them is delicious.”

“I appreciate that, but this is not the time to say that!”

I desperately wished Raphiel would stop helping.

Every compliment she gave was adding fuel to the fire.

“Come, boy! Stop wasting time and duel me already! The stage has already been prepared! Let me see for myself what these otherworldly dishes are truly worth!”

“Y-You can’t just spring that on me! I didn’t bring any cooking tools or ingredients—”

“Fear not! Everything has already been prepared!”

“No, that’s not the issue!”

The reason my cooking tasted good was because I had access to ingredients and seasonings from Earth.

With local ingredients alone, there was a limit to what I could accomplish.

“Please don’t worry, Eight. Anticipating precisely this situation, I prepared everything in advance.”

“Damn it! Why are you so prepared?!”

“Now then, let us gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!”

And just like that, I was practically abducted and dragged all the way to the colosseum, where I found myself forced into a cooking showdown against Tardolf, Head Court Chef of the Kingdom.

No discussion.

No negotiation.

No consent.

Just straight to the duel.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We will now begin the duel between Tardolf, the Kingdom of Elde’s illustrious Head Court Chef, and Eight, the master of otherworldly cuisine who has captivated even the Saint herself!”

“There’s a commentator too…”

“The judging panel will consist of three individuals! The contestant receiving the most votes shall be declared the winner!”

“Wow… they even set this up like a proper cooking competition…”

My muttering was completely ignored as a young girl holding something resembling a microphone enthusiastically continued her announcement.

“Allow me to introduce our judges! First, His Majesty the King!”

“I greatly look forward to tasting cuisine from another world. Tardolf, show us the full extent of your talents as well.”

“Next, Saint Raphiel!”

“I am extremely hungry.”

“Finally, a young bureaucrat we found wandering the castle halls looking bored, so we brought him here!”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

A suspiciously slick-looking young man with perpetually narrowed eyes waved casually in my direction.

Hold on.

Wasn’t the last judge chosen way too casually!?

“The ingredients have been prepared for both contestants! Please use whichever ingredients you desire! There is no time limit! Let the match begin!”

The colosseum had been outfitted with two separate kitchens—one for me and one for Tardolf.

Each station was stocked with meat, fish, vegetables, and various other ingredients.

So I was supposed to choose from these.

There was such an overwhelming variety available that I almost didn’t know where to start.

“Oh! I forgot to mention the theme! The required ingredient is eggs! All dishes must use eggs!”

Ah.

There was a theme.

When someone said “egg dish,” several possibilities immediately came to mind.

But there was a more pressing problem.

I looked around the special kitchen built in the center of the arena and let out a troubled groan.

“This is completely different from what I’m used to…”

The kitchen I normally cooked in was filled with the conveniences of modern civilization.

A gas stove with precise temperature control.

Running water.

A microwave.

A toaster.

Countless tools I had always taken for granted.

Standing here now, I was painfully aware of just how dependent I had been on modern technology.

“What are you doing, boy?! Start the fire already!”

“Uh… the thing is… I don’t actually know how to start one.”

“What?! And you call yourself a cook?!”

“I only make ordinary home-cooked meals!”

“Even ordinary households know how to start a fire!”

Damn it.

The gap between civilizations had never felt so wide.

“Honestly! Fine! I shall teach you how to use a flint!”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Tardolf showed me how to strike the flint properly.

After a few attempts, sparks caught the kindling, and flames began to spread through the firewood.

“Oh! It worked!”

Apparently, adjusting heat involved more than simply adding or removing logs. One could also control the distance between the cooking pot and the fire itself.

Tardolf’s explanations were surprisingly easy to understand.

“I’m learning a lot.”

“Good grief. To think you didn’t even know such fundamentals. Are you truly capable of creating dishes worthy of impressing the Saint?”

“Haha…”

With an awkward smile, I brushed off his grumbling and turned my attention back to the ingredients.

Then I noticed something.

“Hm? These ingredients…”

Every vegetable.

Every piece of meat.

Every fish.

All of them were in noticeably worse condition than the ingredients prepared for Tardolf.

The vegetables were wilted.

The meat and fish looked like they were on the verge of spoiling.

The entire selection was so terrible that it almost seemed as though someone desperately wanted to prevent me from winning this duel.

Could it be…

Had Tardolf sabotaged my ingredients to improve his chances of victory?

“No… probably not.”

The answer became obvious as soon as the thought crossed my mind.

After all, he had just taken the time to teach me how to start a fire.

Tardolf wasn’t a bad person.

If he truly wanted an unfair victory, he could have simply stood back and laughed while I stumbled around helplessly.

No.

He was the type whose pride ran too deep for something so petty.

A man like him would want to win fairly.

“Hey, you! Are you even taking this duel seriously?! You haven’t finished choosing ingredients yet! Just how much do you intend to mock me—”

Tardolf suddenly stopped.

His eyes narrowed.

“What is that?”

“Huh?”

“Those rotten ingredients.”

“Ah, well…”

“Oi! Who was responsible for preparing these ingredients?!”

The moment Tardolf saw the contents of my kitchen, his expression transformed completely.

His eyes widened.

Veins bulged on his forehead.

The atmosphere around him became downright terrifying.

With the face of a demon ready to erupt, he stormed over to the young commentator.

“The ingredients were prepared by your top apprentice, Jeora-sama…”

“JEOOOOOORAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

“Y-Yes, Master! I’m right—”

“CLENCH YOUR TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETH!!!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Tardolf launched himself through the air.

A perfect dropkick.

His flying boot slammed directly into the face of a young man who had been waiting outside the arena ring.

The impact sent the apprentice tumbling backward.

“WHOA!”

An out-of-ring brawl had broken out before the cooking match had even properly begun.