"What an incredible ability… Humans can really control fire?"Alice Nakiri took an instinctive step back as the final waves of heat radiated across the field. Her voice carried a rare note of awe. "And he's just… standing in it. Is he even okay in those temperatures?"
Though she had read about Daiki's powers beforehand, experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. No matter how many videos she'd watched, feeling that pressure—like a furnace roaring open—was an entirely different sensation.
On the sidelines, Kurokiba Ryo adjusted his flame-patterned headband with deliberate care.His once-calm gaze was now burning with excitement.
"Tch. What an exaggerated guy..." he muttered, but his expression was anything but dismissive. His fingers twitched, itching for a pan—or a battle.
Dojima Gin chuckled softly, arms crossed. "He mentioned this before—neither the steam nor the flames harm him. But to anyone else? You'd be lucky to walk away with just burns."
Nakiri Soe gave a single approving nod. "That's enough for the superpower test. We've confirmed his 'Explosive Flame' ability. We'll focus the next stage of development on his sense of touch. That's where we can offer the most support."
Daiki, now cool and composed, let the heat disperse. The tension dropped—but only slightly.
"Now…" Soe's voice lightened. "Let's move into territory we all understand. Cooking. Based on your profile, you're currently at the intermediate chef level, correct?"
"Yes," Daiki replied, already moving toward the prep station.
"Awakening that ability must've changed your technique. Let's see where you stand now," Soe continued. "Prepare one dish. We'll judge."
Alice's eyes lit up. "Oh? We get to taste too?"
"Of course," said Dojima. "There are four of us—makes for a good mix of perspectives. This isn't a Shokugeki, so no need for an odd number."
Kurokiba smirked. "Let's see if the fire show matches the flavor."
Daiki gave a quiet nod. This was the part he felt most confident in.
Then, without a word, he placed a large, heavy metal box on the counter with a soft clang.
Alice blinked. "Eh? A knife case? Isn't that a bit much?"She tilted her head. "Is he carrying a weapon cache in there?"
Even she, the queen of over-prepared kitchen gear, raised a brow. In her culinary battles, she often brought whole suitcases—but not something this... solid. Daiki didn't even dabble in molecular gastronomy, so what could justify the size?
Then he opened the case.
A metallic gleam shot across the workstation as Daiki pulled out not one, but seven knives. Each one rested in its own velvet-lined slot. Every blade was unique. Some curved, some straight. And one… one looked more like a broadsword than a kitchen tool—nearly 1.5 meters long.
Silence followed.
"…That's not a knife," Alice finally whispered. "That's a slab of judgment."
Kurokiba whistled low. Even he was impressed.
Dojima stepped forward, eyes narrowing slightly as he inspected the lineup. "I see… different blades for different ingredient types. Clever. Their shapes aren't standard, but they're not gimmicky. They're specialized."
He moved his hand slightly, mimicking the motion of slicing with one of the larger knives. "This one could break down a whole boar without needing a cleaver. That smaller blade—good for precision work with herbs and fine cuts of fish…"
"It's a full-spectrum set," Nakiri Soe added. "But managing this many blades mid-dish? That's no small feat."
He looked at Daiki with renewed interest. "The user not only needs to master each knife individually—but also be able to switch between them fluidly. One mistake, one miscalculation of timing or grip, and you could destroy the dish. Or worse—injure yourself."
Alice looked on, wide-eyed. "Is that really okay to use in a kitchen?"
"To us?" Soe smiled wryly. "Maybe not. But for someone like him—someone with that tactile ability—maybe it's the perfect match."
Daiki didn't respond. He had already begun choosing his knives with quiet precision. His eyes narrowed slightly, fingers brushing each blade with a familiarity that spoke of countless hours of practice.
Alice leaned closer to Ryo and whispered, "So is this set of knives actually as powerful as they say?"
Kurokiba didn't look at her. His eyes stayed locked on Daiki."…Yeah. But power's useless if you can't wield it."He grinned, teeth sharp."Let's see if he really can."
Although both Alice and Ryo were classified as mid-level chefs, the gap between them and top-tier elites like Nakiri Soe and Dojima Gin wasn't insurmountable. Yet when faced with the mysterious, oversized case and the formidable blades inside, they suddenly felt the weight of the difference.
Dojima Gin's voice cut through the moment of silence."Not only does this set handle any kind of ingredient effortlessly, the sharpness is—honestly—absurd. He didn't even apply much force earlier, yet the blades buried themselves into a solid wood chopping board."
Only now did the others notice the damage—deep gouges in the board where each blade had landed. The cuts were clean and effortless, with no splintering.
Ryo's eyes narrowed as he mentally compared the edge of his prized Deba knife to what he'd just seen."…My blade feels like a plastic spoon next to those."
Even Alice, who usually prided herself on her molecular gastronomy kit, couldn't help but murmur, "Compared to those… my knives feel like decorations."
As Daiki—lifted the next blade, the real performance began.
He brought out a freshly slaughtered chicken, the primary ingredient for this dish. Its skin still glistened faintly from the preparation, its body intact, yet the tension in the air sharpened.
Then—shhk—the first cut.
The Seven-Star Knife sliced into the chicken's body not with force, but with grace. There was no resistance. The blade passed through skin, muscle, and sinew like it was gliding through soft tofu.
A chill ran down Alice's spine. "Did… did the chicken even realize it was cut?"
Indeed, the movements were so precise, so quick, that even the natural post-mortem twitching of the bird was barely triggered. It didn't jerk, didn't shift—didn't resist.
Next came the plucking. With an ease that felt like magic, Daiki removed the feathers in seamless sweeps, as though peeling away silk.
Then he began gutting.
Yet even here, there was no mess. No unnecessary force. The knife moved like a whisper through bone and membrane, leaving the cavity clean, intact, and untouched by stray cuts.
Dojima Gin exchanged a glance with Nakiri Soe."That sharpness isn't normal. Even in our world, these knives would be called legendary artifacts."
Soe nodded slowly. "They remind me of the ancient culinary relics from the Little Chef World—tools born not just of craftsmanship, but of power. And from what I recall…"His voice dropped slightly. "The Seven-Star Knives were second only to the legendary kitchen utensils. Mythical instruments said to shape fate through flavor."
Alice's lips parted in surprise. "Wait… the world of Little Chef? I thought that world was historical."
"It started that way," Soe replied, his tone grave. "But in its later stages, it crossed into the realm of the fantastical. There were chefs who could fly, who could vanish into the earth. Cooking became—almost supernatural."
Ryo clenched a fist, staring at the blade in Daiki's hand."To be able to use something like that… It's not just skill. It's synergy. Like the knife and the chef are part of the same flow."
Back at the workstation, Daiki was executing the next step—a method none of them had anticipated.
He didn't dismantle the bird. He kept its shape completely intact.
Instead of separating parts—legs, wings, breasts—he made delicate, internal incisions. He was essentially carving from within, like sculpting a statue from the inside out.
"Why's he not breaking it down?" Alice whispered.
Soe's eyes gleamed with appreciation. "He's creating internal channels. If I'm right… he's preparing the flesh to absorb seasoning from within, without compromising the outer structure."
Sure enough, Daiki's cuts created tiny, precise tunnels through the meat, leading from the surface to the core—perfect pathways for marinades, aromatics, and sauces to infuse deeply and evenly.
It was a technique that demanded not only complete control of the knife, but also an anatomical understanding of the ingredient—a map in the mind, guiding the edge of the blade.
A technique only possible with the sensitivity of his touch and the otherworldly sharpness of the Seven-Star Knives.
"He's using the chicken like a canvas," Dojima muttered. "Not deconstructing it—just transforming it."
The atmosphere turned solemn.Even Alice had stopped talking. Ryo wasn't smirking anymore.
The only sounds were the rhythmic slice of steel, the occasional hiss of breath, and the soft whisper of flesh parting under mastery.
Something extraordinary was being born.
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