"Mr. Kuripa, I'm an editor from Bedford Weekly. May I ask you a question?"
"Nom nom… gulp… sure, go ahead."
Sein Dungeon, Gourmet Zone
In the Gourmet Zone—a place as beautiful as a fairyland, filled with a sweet, drifting aroma—a lively elderly elf stood upright. Though no taller than 1.6 meters, he carried himself with surprising energy as he happily devoured a piece of bone-in roasted meat.
Whenever it felt a bit greasy, he would pluck a clove from the blooming garlic flowers beside him to cleanse his palate, or grab a soy-sauce grasshopper to go with it.
A deeply satisfied expression rested on his slightly wrinkled face.
In front of him, a well-dressed, beautiful female editor prepared her notebook. Watching him intently, she asked:
"Excuse me, elves have always been known as embodiments of nature who favor vegetarianism. So why are you…"
Her gaze fell on the half-eaten bone-in roasted meat in Kuripa's hand. The implication was obvious.
"This? This is a plant," Kuripa said seriously.
"A plant?" The editor froze.
"It grew from a tree, didn't it? How is that not a plant?" He looked solemn, as if explaining a universal truth.
The editor tried to argue, "But it looks like meat, smells like meat, and tastes like meat…"
"Does that mean it must be meat?"
Kuripa patted her shoulder earnestly and lectured, "Don't be fooled by appearances. You must understand the essence of things. If it grows from the earth, it's a plant! How could it possibly be meat?"
An authoritative aura seemed to radiate from him. The editor swallowed and nodded. "I see… so bone-in roasted meat is a plant."
"Exactly! It's a plant. We elves love vegetarian food, so bone-in roasted meat is vegetarian. No problem at all."
As he spoke, Kuripa took out a packet of coffee powder and brewed it using the juice of a hot milk fruit growing on a tree.
"Ah, is that coffee made from cocoa beans grown on the back of a cocoa koala?" the editor recognized it and seized the chance to counter.
Smiling, she asked, "Mr. Kuripa, if meat grown on trees counts as a plant, then would cocoa beans that grow on a cocoa koala count as meat?"
Kuripa gave her a deadpan stare. Only when cold sweat formed on her back did he reply:
"If it looks like coffee, smells like coffee, and tastes like coffee, then it's coffee. Purely vegetarian."
"But you just said we should look at the essence—"
"Are you the chef, or am I the chef? Since you're so good at talking, how about I give you my one-star chef certification and my shares in Bedford Weekly too?"
"N-No, that's not what I meant…"
The editor waved her hands frantically, thinking she must have been bored to argue such things with an elf. After calming him down, she finally remembered her original purpose and quickly adjusted her mindset.
"May I ask what you think about your duel in three days against Chef Bashi, a two-star chef from the Chefs' Association?"
The editor recalled what had happened two days earlier.
That day, Luluwo and her group had wandered around the city, basically recruiting most of its elite adventurers.
Right after they left, an unexpected group arrived.
The Chefs' Association.
Known as the most authoritative culinary institution on the continent, the association couldn't stop others from becoming chefs—but possessing their certification would instantly elevate a chef's status.
Chefs were ranked from level 1 to 9, each requiring strict evaluation. Above that, however, was a realm unattainable through effort alone—the realm of Star Chefs.
One star was the beginning. Five stars—the peak—the absolute rulers of the culinary world.
And recently, a famous two-star chef, Bashi—renowned for his "refinement"—arrived in the city, tasted the Gourmet Zone's ingredients, and made a shocking claim:
"Food that can be eaten without cooking is an insult to chefs!"
Roast pigs, trumpet lions, meat trees, ox-tongue flowers—ingredients everywhere that could be eaten straight after picking, delicious without any preparation.
Bashi's logic was simple: if all food were like this, the very purpose of chefs would be diminished.
When someone suggested further processing these ingredients, he dismissed it:
"Cooking without starting from raw ingredients has no soul!"
To him, modifying already edible food felt like "sleeping with someone else's bride"—deeply uncomfortable. Any chef with integrity would reject it.
Thus, he declared resistance against the Gourmet Zone.
But city residents and merchants had already benefited greatly from it. Whether eating or selling, no one was willing to abandon it.
Seeing this, Bashi devised another plan.
He would host a culinary showdown—his apprentices cooking refined dishes using traditional ingredients (not from the Gourmet Zone), proving superiority through taste alone.
To outsiders, it seemed pointless. Even if he won, people would still go to the Gourmet Zone.
But for Bashi and his apprentices, victory itself was proof—and a boost to their reputation.
With magical assistance, they quickly set up dozens of stoves in the city square, producing high-end dishes nonstop—and offering them for free.
Free gourmet meals made by star chefs drew massive crowds.
The only condition?
Praise their food as better than the Gourmet Zone's.
Many people obliged—it cost nothing to say so, and the food truly was excellent.
Eventually, tensions escalated. Instigated by a certain magic shop owner, supporters of the Gourmet Zone clashed with Bashi's group.
A fight broke out.
Guards intervened, and afterward, both sides agreed:
A cooking competition.
One side would use Gourmet Zone ingredients.
The other, traditional ingredients.
Judged by upcoming three-star chefs.
Thus, an absurd yet grand contest was born.
Back to the present—
"I don't have much to say," Kuripa wiped his mouth and stood up. "I'll use these ingredients to crush Bashi and show him what real cuisine is."
Looking across the beautiful land, he clenched his fist.
"The moment I saw trees growing roasted meat… I knew this place was my paradise."
"I love this place! I won't let anyone insult it!"
The editor gave an awkward laugh.
"But Bashi is truly skilled, and he has access to rare ingredients," she said. "How will you respond?"
Kuripa replied:
"I'll go deeper into the Gourmet Zone. No one has fully explored it yet. Beyond lies something greater."
"You mean the Rainbow Fruit?" the editor asked.
"No," he shook his head. "I'm not good with desserts."
He smiled mysteriously.
"I'm looking for something most people don't know about. I've only obtained a small amount of it so far."
"Can't you give a hint?"
"No."
Later, Kuripa left the zone reluctantly and headed to a shop.
Maldron Magic Shop.
Ding—
The doorbell rang as he entered.
"Oh, you're back," said the shop owner lazily—Maldron, or rather, Wade.
Kuripa showed deep respect.
"I couldn't find the seasoning you mentioned, but I found this."
He placed a wrapped knife on the counter.
"This tool has incredible power. It might even surpass the 'Secret Seasoning.'"
"But tools can't win battles alone," Wade said, taking out two small bottles—one powder, one liquid.
Kuripa's eyes lit up.
"You… found more!?"
"This is what I have left," Wade smiled.
Then he added:
"If you win the competition… I'll let you taste the Century Soup again."