[Broadcast Feed: The Flavor Network | Orbital Arena "The Starlight Stove" — Neutral Zone Between Universes]
The arena stretched for light-years — a floating kitchen carved from meteor iron and lost Michelin stars.
Thousands of galaxies tuned in, watching from cosmic screens.
Every universe was ready.
Except Earth.
1 — THE BRIEFING (IF YOU CAN CALL IT THAT)
Arin Sol slapped the mission card onto the counter.
"Alright, team. Simple rules. Cook. Win. Don't die."
Lira deadpanned. "You just described none of our past episodes."
Mang Thomas adjusted his bandana. "We've cooked on lava, in space, and once inside a whale. What's left?"
Manny punched a slab of raw meat so hard it turned into carpaccio. "Winning."
"Good answer," Arin said, impressed. "Also slightly terrifying."
Lira sighed. "We're the most chaotic team in the galaxy. The other universes have culinary gods. We have… you."
Arin grinned. "Yeah, but I'm fun."
2 — ENTER THE LEGENDS
The room darkened. Two massive energy signatures appeared.
Gordon RamsAI descended first — a holographic chef powered by pure anger and data compression. His apron said "Season Me Once, Shame On You."
"EARTH TEAM!" he barked. "Who's in charge of this culinary circus?!"
Everyone pointed at Arin.
He raised his hand, already sweating. "Hello, chef. Big fan of your terrestrial yelling."
RamsAI's eyes glowed red. "You're not fit to dice an onion in this dimension."
Mang Thomas bowed slightly. "Chef RamsAI. We honor the flame."
"Good," RamsAI said. "You'll need it to cook your own graves."
Then — another figure stepped forward. Not a hologram. Flesh and legend.
Marco the Eternal Sous.
The man whispered about since Chapter 2, said to have served every master chef across galaxies. Calm eyes, worn hands, and a voice like simmering broth.
"Don't fear the fire," he said quietly. "Fear losing your flavor."
Even RamsAI paused.
Lira whispered, "He's real?"
"Real enough," Marco said, lighting a cigarette on a dying star. "And if you lose this war, none of you will be."
3 — EARTH'S TEST RUN
Arin slammed a pan on the counter. "Alright! Let's show 'em why humanity invented breakfast buffets!"
Ten minutes later: fire. Explosions. Lira on fire. Manny punching fire. Mang Thomas praying to the adobo gods.
RamsAI facepalmed. "You turned a frying pan into a neutron bomb!"
Arin shrugged. "In my defense, it added depth."
Marco tasted a charred spoonful. "It tastes like regret and vinegar. You're almost there."
4 — THE DECLARATION
The interdimensional broadcast cut in — the announcer droid's voice booming across the multiverse.
"ATTENTION. BY ORDER OF THE FLAVOR NETWORK:
THE FINAL EVENT BEGINS TOMORROW.
THE COOK-OFF OF COOK-OFFS.
ONE UNIVERSE SHALL REMAIN.
ALL OTHERS WILL BE ERASED."
The crowd went silent. Even RamsAI stopped yelling.
Lira looked at Arin. "We're… we're not ready."
Mang Thomas whispered, "No one ever is."
Manny punched another piece of meat just to cope. "Then we train. We pound. We fry destiny."
RamsAI sneered. "You're all doomed."
Marco exhaled smoke that shimmered like memory. "Perhaps. But doomed meals often taste the best."
Arin looked out across the endless arena — other universes prepping with discipline, skill, and elegance.
Then at his own team: chaos incarnate, standing in burned aprons and stupid hope.
He smiled.
"Then we'll give them the last supper they'll never forget."
End of Chapter 11 — "The Broken Brigade of Earth"
Next: Chapter 12 — "THE COOK-OFF OF COOK-OFFS."
The final course. The last kitchen. The stupidest plan humanity's ever served.