King remained blissfully unaware of the existential earthquake he'd triggered in Toriko's soul. To him, the sprawling field of legendary beasts was merely… a well-stocked pantry.
He ambled through the silent necropolis of monsters with the casual air of a man browsing a farmer's market. He'd pause, give the flank of a mountainous reptile an appraising thump, or pry open the jaws of a feathered serpent to inspect the color of its gums.
"Mmm… the striation on this Land Shark is textbook. Nice fat cap." King crouched beside a behemoth with legs like hydraulic presses. With a deft flick of his finger, he parted the hide, revealing perfect, ruby-red meat beneath. "You'll do."
He then gripped a dorsal fin and, with a motion no more strenuous than lifting a bag of groceries, heaved the several-thousand-ton carcass into the air. It sailed in a lazy arc and landed with a ground-shaking THUD at Toriko's feet, kicking up a small dust storm.
"And this Elephant Trunk Dragon…" King moved on, his fingertip tracing a line that cleanly opened another beast's chest cavity. "Look at that marbling. That's A5 Wagyu-level fat distribution."
Toriko stood like a statue, his mind still trying to process the act of deicide he'd just witnessed. It was only the second seismic impact of a monster corpse that jolted him back to reality.
"Komatsu! Snap out of it!" He gently slapped his partner's pale cheek. "We… we have a job!"
"Ugh… Toriko-san…?" Komatsu blinked dazedly. His vision focused on the mountain of pristine, hyper-premium ingredients now piled before him. His small eyes blew wide. "Is that… Land Shark hindquarter?! And Elephant Trunk Dragon tenderloin?!"
In the next heartbeat, a metamorphosis occurred. The trembling, faint-hearted chef vanished. In his place stood a culinary zealot. He sprang to his feet with impossible agility, professional-grade gloves already magically on his hands.
"Perfection!" Komatsu breathed, his voice hushed with reverence. His trembling fingers—now steady as a surgeon's—gently stroked the Land Shark's iridescent hide. "This cellular integrity… this post-mortem suppleness… it's a once-in-a-lifetime canvas!"
King watched, amused. The power of professional passion, he mused. Fear was no match for the call of a perfect ingredient.
Shing!
A blade of cold light appeared in Komatsu's hand—the legendary Dragon King's Fang kitchen knife. It hummed with a keen edge that promised to sever molecules without bruising a single cell.
"Toriko-san! Assist me!" Komatsu commanded, his focus absolute. His hands became a silvery blur, beginning the sacred process of butchery. "Flip this loin! Gently!"
Saitama and Garou needed no second invitation. Drawn by the burgeoning, heavenly aromas, they waded in, their "help" consisting mainly of hefting entire haunches onto makeshift spits and "testing" morsels that suspiciously vanished into their mouths at lightning speed.
King wasn't as ravenous. He leaned against a giant tusk, arms crossed, observing Komatsu's virtuoso performance with a connoisseur's approval.
"Not bad at all. The work ethic is exceptional. Efficiency is top-tier," he noted internally. "A truly self-motivating, high-performance culinary unit."
His gaze then swept over the kilometers-long "all-you-can-eat buffet" he'd just created. Waste was anathema to him. A thought summoned the crystalline Dimensional Compass from within his clothes.
The Xi Empire's pinnacle of five-dimensional tech was more than a navigational aid. Its internal four-dimensional storage space—a pocket reality without time—was the ultimate refrigerator. Perfect for ingredient preservation. As he mentally cataloged the space, he found it meticulously organized by Sif, complete with indexed, illustrated manuals for every esoteric piece of hyper-tech within.
"Thorough," King murmured, a genuine smile touching his lips as he began systematically storing acres of monster carcasses. "Very thoughtful. I'll have to… express my gratitude properly when I return."
An image of the passionate, pointy-eared princess flashed in his mind, bringing a certain warmth with it. He cleared his throat, refocusing on the task. These were SSS-tier ingredients. Letting them spoil would be a culinary crime. Plus, they'd make fantastic gifts for certain tsundere espers and demon-cyborgs back home…
"Oi! King!" Saitama's voice cut through his thoughts, muffled by a mouthful of something delicious. "It's ready! Last call! Garou's about to inhale the grill!"
In what felt like mere minutes, the air was once again thick with divine scent. Komatsu had worked miracles: the Land Shark patties were seared to a juicy, crusty perfection, and the Elephant Trunk Dragon sashimi was arranged like a mosaic of precious gemstones on a slab of chilled stone.
The feast, round two, was served.
Two culinary masterpieces, born from opposing philosophies—searing heat versus pristine cold—yet both sang the same hymn to the ingredients' sublime essence.
"Please, enjoy!" Komatsu beamed, wiping his brow with the back of his glove, his face alight with the pure joy of creation.
Saitama and Garou lunged forward, but this time with a semblance of restraint—a strategic, measured devouring that allowed Toriko to finally claim a share of the legendary feast he'd helped enable.
King understood the art of motivation. A workhorse, no matter how nuclear-powered, ran smoother with fuel of appreciation. He set his utensils down with a soft clink.
"Chef Komatsu," King said, his voice carrying a note of genuine, regal respect. "Your craft transcends cooking. It is alchemy. The title 'God's Tongue' is not flattery; it is simple fact."
Komatsu flushed, scratching his head in humble delight. "Oh! Th-thank you! Ah! That reminds me!" He scrambled to his backpack, producing several small, meticulously sealed jars. "My special blended sauce! It was made to harmonize with the Elephant Trunk Dragon's fattiness! Here!"
See? King thought, accepting the jar. Positive reinforcement yields proactive innovation.
He dabbed the rich, fragrant sauce onto a slice of glistening sashimi. The moment it touched his tongue, a symphony erupted. The sauce's complex umami and subtle acidity didn't mask the meat's flavor; they elevated it, conducting a wild, harmonious duet that danced across every sensory receptor. It was a taste that could, in a less dignified universe, literally blow the clothes off one's back.
"Komatsu," King stated, his eyes sharp with appraisal. "You are a genius."
Sated and energized, the unlikely party of five set out, the colossal peak known as Mount Hercules dominating the horizon.
As they traveled, King drew out the story. Toriko, now more at ease, laid out the grand strategy.
"This hunt for AIR… it's a multi-pronged assault. The Four Heavenly Kings are splitting up to cover ground and divide the risks."
He counted them off on his fingers. "Coco headed for the Poison Rain Grasslands. His body is a library of anti-toxins; if anyone can find a path through that lethal drizzle, it's him."
"Sunny chose the Hive Plains. In a labyrinth of hives and swarms, his 'Hair' gives him unmatched control and perception."
"And that noisy idiot Zebra…" Toriko chuckled despite himself. "He's in the Stardust Hills. The unique mineral deposits there are said to resonate with his Sound Waves. He's probably shouting the landscape into submission."
Toriko's gaze then lifted, hardening as it fixed on the monstrous geological formation ahead—a mountain so vast its peak was swallowed by the planet's own weather systems. "And our path… leads there. Mount Hercules."
He paused, the name itself thick with gravity. "The domain of one of the Eight Kings. The terrestrial sovereign known as the 'Strongest Force on Land'…"
Komatsu gulped audibly, his earlier bravado gone.
"…Horse King, Heracles." Toriko finished, a flicker of primal awe in his eyes. Just speaking the title felt like invoking a natural law.
Saitama tilted his head, squinting at the distant, cloud-wreathed summit. "Horse King, huh? Sounds tough. I wonder what cut's the most tender…"
Beside him, Garou's lips curled into a silent, competitive smirk. Over my dead body, Baldy. I'll take that first bite. The promise of a fight against a title like "Strongest on Land" was a siren's call, and the prospect of consuming such a foe afterward only sweetened the deal.
The quest for a salad ingredient had just escalated into a direct challenge against one of the apex rulers of the Gourmet World.
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