"Now then, allow me to introduce tonight's Shokugeki contestants…"
Once the crowd had quieted down, Urara Kawashima began the formal introductions for Kael and Terunori Kuga. Everyone knew it was just for show—after all, by this point, there wasn't a single student at Totsuki who didn't know these two names.
When Urara finished, the match officially began.
Kael didn't start cooking right away. Instead, his gaze swept over Kuga's station—and just as he expected, Kuga had brought out his signature dish: Mapo Tofu, one of his own Specialties.
A Specialty didn't have to be some bizarre, never-before-seen dish, nor did it rely on rare ingredients. It was simply the recipe that represented a chef's true essence—the one they'd refined to perfection.
And in Kuga's case, among all Sichuan Cuisine, his mastery of Mapo Tofu was unmatched. There was a reason it had become his trademark—it was the most iconic dish of its kind.
Kael, coincidentally—or perhaps deliberately—was making Mapo Tofu as well.
Only his version was different. His was a Poison Cuisine—and it had been created for one purpose only: to defeat Terunori Kuga.
There were plenty of other ways Kael could've won. With his Four Divine Senses, he could've easily copied Kuga's dish and removed its flaws, producing an objectively superior version. That alone would've guaranteed victory.
But he chose not to.
Truthfully, Kael didn't dislike Kuga. He respected him. That's exactly why he didn't want to let him continue spreading his distorted idea of "Chinese cuisine."
If Kael wanted to correct him, he had to do it in a way Kuga would never forget—through cooking.
"The difference in their knife work is huge," Rindo Kobayashi said, watching closely from the Elite Ten seats. "Shorty's skill isn't even in the same league. Honestly, I doubt any of us could match that precision."
As soon as the match started, the difference became obvious.
Kael's knife flashed like lightning, guided by his Divine Touch. Every cut was sharp, clean, and perfectly measured—so fast it looked almost effortless, as though his hands moved on instinct alone.
Kuga, to his credit, was no amateur. His motions were smooth and professional—but compared to Kael's, his technique seemed almost sluggish.
"The gap really is that big… unbelievable," one student murmured. "He's our age—how the hell can someone his age have that kind of precision?"
Even the instructors in the audience were dumbfounded. Some of them had been honing their knife work for decades, even a lifetime—and yet this boy was operating on a level that seemed superhuman.
Sure, they could chalk it up to "talent," but that word felt hollow when the difference was this extreme.
Erina Nakiri felt it most acutely. Her God's Tongue let her analyze ingredients and deconstruct flavors with perfect clarity—but it didn't grant her fundamental skills. Knife work, timing, and discipline still required years of training.
Watching Kael now, even she started doubting herself. Was she really as gifted as people claimed? Or had everyone just been overhyping her talent?
"This speed… it's unreal," Senzaemon Nakiri muttered, his sharp eyes locked on Kael. "Same process, same number of steps—and yet he's twice as fast."
He leaned forward slightly. "Every motion is perfectly timed. This level of control can't be explained by experience alone. Has this boy… awakened some kind of Special Ability?"
Kael's precision, his rhythm—it was as if every movement had been calculated down to the millisecond. Even with all of Senzaemon's years of experience, he couldn't claim to match that accuracy.
He'd earned his own skills through relentless practice and time. But Kael was only a teenager. How could someone so young have mastered this kind of timing?
The thought left only one conclusion: an Ability.
People with Special Abilities could do things ordinary chefs couldn't. In front of them, experience meant little.
Take his granddaughter, for instance—Erina's God's Tongue could instantly dissect the composition of any dish. No amount of training could reproduce that.
The problem was, he couldn't tell what Kael's ability actually was. Some abilities were obvious, like Sarge's Weaponized Cooking. Others, like Megumi Tadokoro's Heartfelt Hospitality, could only be felt through taste.
And then there were those—like Eishi Tsukasa's Communion with Ingredients—that couldn't be identified unless the user revealed them.
For now, all Senzaemon could do was watch.
"Why the hell is he so fast?"
Kuga's brows furrowed as he chopped, beads of sweat starting to form. Kael's hands were a blur. Even though both were making the same dish, Kael had already jumped several steps ahead.
He told himself that speed didn't always mean quality—but it was hard not to feel the pressure.
"Don't worry," Kael said lightly, glancing over. "I'll wait for you."
"Damn you…"
Kuga's jaw tightened. Lines like that usually came from the strong to the weak—and he refused to be the weak one.
Still, he wasn't an Elite Ten member for nothing. After a brief pause, he exhaled slowly and focused back on his dish.
Soon, Kael finished his own Mapo Tofu—but instead of presenting it, he simply folded his arms and waited.
Seeing Kael just standing there, calm and unhurried, made Kuga's blood boil.
"Hmph. You want to wait? Then don't blame me when you lose because of it."
With that, Kuga plated his dish and stepped forward, placing his Mapo Tofu on the judges' table.