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While most examinees are frantically cooking at their stations, Alex and Linus are casually stuffing their faces with steak and fries.

"This is actually pretty good, I have to say," Linus says, his mouth half-full.

"Not bad, I guess," Alex replies. "The crust and temperature could use a bit more consistency, but I feel like I've nailed it after these practice runs. That ketchup is surprisingly good too. We should serve it with the dish—it's bound to make it even better."

Shalnark walks over, eyebrows raised. "You two seem awfully relaxed. Are you already done?"

Alex smirks and hands him a plate. "We've practiced three times already. Here, try it."

Shalnark takes a bite of the fries, the steak, and even the carrots. His expression brightens into a genuine smile. "This is… honestly fantastic. The seasoning is spot-on—salt, pepper, and those spices you added work perfectly. The sauce is rich and complements the steak beautifully. The fries are crispy, and the carrots are well-cooked. If I got served this in a random restaurant, I'd be more than happy. I can't comment on technique, but everything seems evenly cooked and balanced."

Alex nods, satisfied. "Glad to hear it. We'll just cook one more batch before the judgment to ensure it's fresh. How's the pudding coming along?"

Shalnark chuckles. "That perfectionist over there is driving herself insane. The very first batch was already restaurant quality, in my opinion, but she's on her third round now, tweaking every little detail. She's used up almost all the ingredients for experimenting. Even if this third attempt flops, the second one could easily pass the exam on its own. It looks and tastes fantastic."

Linus leans back and adds, "We've got this in the bag. There are only 16 teams left, which is slightly more than I expected considering we took out two teams ourselves. Shalnark, you wiped out one solo. That means only one other team is missing. We just need to be better than six teams to make the top ten. Honestly, I took a walk and looked at some of the other stations—some of these teams are working with just one or two ingredients. They're using oil and salt in different ways to pass it off as a dish. It's pathetic."

Alex laughs quietly. I'd do the same if I were in their shoes, it's worth a try at least. Guess we're just that good and the others are just that desperate.

Finally, Alex turns to the group and asks, "Should we just present the steak and pudding? I'm not too sure about the stew."

"Rude!" Patricia exclaims, clearly offended. "Linus, slap that rude guy for me, will you?"

Linus, secretly smitten with Patricia, swings at Alex, but Alex quickly ducks and counters with a light tap to Linus's arm.

"Hehe. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. The hands can't hit what the eyes can't see!" Alex quips, smugly borrowing Muhammad Ali's famous phrase.

"Seriously, though, Patricia, at least let us try it first," Alex says with a grin. "And by us, I mean Linus. You can try it first."

Linus looks at Alex with mock betrayal. "What? Why me?"

Patricia crosses her arms and says with a smirk, "Fine, but I'm warning you, the stew is amazing. Don't come crying to me when you realize how wrong you were, Alex!"

Linus gulps, glaring at Alex with mock irritation but still walking over to the enormous pot. He grabs a fresh spoon, dips it into the stew, and takes a tentative bite. Almost instantly, his scowl morphs into a smile. "Wow, this is unique! I really like this!" Without thinking, he takes another spoonful, then another, clearly enjoying himself.

Patricia notices and smacks the spoon out of his hand. "STOP EATING! What if we don't have enough left to present for the judgment?"

Linus looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, Patricia… sorry, my bad!"

Alex snickers. "Linus, you're turning into a full-blown SIMP. Patricia, congratulations, you've just caught yourself a lonely, single veteran! Looks slightly used but still works just fine."

Linus blushes slightly, confused. "Wait… what does SIMP mean? Is it like… super important person? Because I like that."

"Sure," Alex responds, trying to keep a straight face.

Patricia blushes slightly as well but quickly turns her embarrassment into anger, glaring at Alex. Shalnark, meanwhile, is practically doubled over with laughter, thoroughly enjoying the banter.

Suddenly, Menchi appears beside them like a ghost, her sharp voice cutting through their playful mood. "Twenty more minutes! You'd better stop fooling around and get serious!" Her eyes linger on Alex, clearly scrutinizing him for any excuse to criticize.

Alex and Linus exchange a quick nod, snapping back to focus. Under Alex's direction, they concentrate on preparing two more servings of steak and fries, ensuring they have at least one dish that's near-perfect for presentation.

Eirini, on the other hand, finally lets out a sigh of relief. "Guys, I did it! The third batch turned out really well. I think this one could at least get us an average score!"

With only three minutes left, the group hustles to plate their dishes. They garnish and arrange everything as best they can, using banana leaves and other items for decoration to enhance the presentation. They line up their three dishes—a steak and fries, Patricia's stew, and Eirini's banana pudding—at the front of their cooking station.

Alex looks around and thinks, Good choice picking this station right at the front. If they start judging from here, we might be up first. Good job, Shalnark, for thinking ahead.

Menchi's voice echoes across the camp. "AND STOP! IF I SEE ANY MORE MOVEMENT, YOU'RE DISQUALIFIED!"

All 16 teams freeze in place. Menchi continues, "Now, as I said, Linne will review each of your dishes. The top 10 teams will move on to the next phase!"

She dramatically wheels Linne forward, but the elderly woman suddenly leaps off the wheelchair and lands gracefully in front of the very first station, just two places to the left of Alex's team.

Alex stares, dumbfounded. "How is she gonna judge anything when her head barely reaches the top of the table? It's like watching a gnome standing in front of a table made for giants."

Before anyone can respond, Linne begins to float, hovering effortlessly in front of the first station.

"What the fuck?!" Alex mutters, and a chorus of shocked whispers echoes among the candidates.

Alex's mind races. How is she doing that? Conjuring something invisible? Riding on Nen constructs? Or is she using pure emission? Her body's light enough—it could be possible…

Menchi, standing beside the floating Linne, addresses the first team. "Present your first dish!"

The team hurriedly pushes forward a single bowl of soup or stew. From Alex's vantage point, it looks plain and uninspired. Menchi doesn't hold back. "Are you serious? You expect Linne to eat this revolting mess? DISQUALIFIED, I SAY!"

But Linne silently slaps Menchi's ass again, cutting off her tirade. With a serious expression, Linne tastes the dish. After a moment of contemplation, she raises two fingers.

Menchi rubs her stinging ass and smirks. "Two out of ten. And since you lack two more dishes, that's minus two points, giving you exactly what you deserve: a score of ZERO out of ten!"

The team looks utterly defeated, retreating from their station in shame as Linne hovers toward the next group. Alex, watching it all unfold, can't help but feel the tension rising. It's going to be a long judgment…

Linne moves to the table directly to the left of Alex's group. On it, three plates of roasted bird meat sit, each adorned with differently colored spices. To Alex, they look suspiciously identical. He mutters, "That's cheating."

Menchi, hearing him, smirks and says loudly, "This time I agree with you! The intention of this contest was to present three different dishes! Just swapping the spices doesn't make them different dishes!"

Linne gazes at Menchi with approval, lowers her head slightly, and whispers something in her ear.

Menchi straightens and announces, "Linne says you can choose one dish to be judged. The other two won't count!"

The team quickly chooses one dish. Linne samples it, her face neutral, and then raises three fingers.

"Three out of 10," Menchi says with her usual disdain. "And since you're short two dishes, we subtract two points. So, congratulations, you've earned a one out of 10. Frankly, that's more than you deserve."

The group of five burly men collectively groan, curse, and glare. One even raises a hand aggressively but freezes when Menchi's knife glints menacingly as she barely unsheathes it.

With no further theatrics, Linne hovers to Alex's table, with Menchi striding alongside her. Alex narrows his eyes, squinting at Linne, trying to figure out her floating trick. He still can't make sense of it.

Menchi's sharp voice breaks his focus. "Your turn. I hope you can at least score higher than one. Even if your team doesn't make it to the top three, I might throw you some scraps in a dog bowl and let you kneel and eat next to me while I dine. Consider it a charity and let me show you what a true gourmet hunter can create!"

Alex groans inwardly, Why do I always attract these lunatic women? Dominant sadists, every single one of them. I swear the system is malfunctioning, my LUK is negative at this point.

Linus leans closer and whispers, "Aren't you lucky? Damn, I'd love to be her dog."

Alex recoils and takes a deliberate step away from him.

Menchi claps her hands sharply. "Enough chatter. Present your first dish."

Patricia proudly steps forward with her stew. Linne tilts her head, examining the dish with what Alex thinks might be mild curiosity. She tastes it, her expression unreadable, and then raises both hands, holding up eight fingers.

Patricia beams. The rest of the group cheers.

Menchi's eyes widen in shock. "Are you serious, Linne?!" She tastes the stew herself, then mutters, "It's… not bad. I'd have given it a five out of 10. Well, I suppose Linne is feeling generous today. Compared to some of the garbage we've seen, eight out of 10 is reasonable."

Next, Alex steps forward with his steak and fries. Linne takes a bite, and for the first time, her lips curl into a faint smile. She gestures for Menchi to lower her head and whispers something inaudible.

Menchi straightens and relays, "Linne says you made several mistakes, but this dish reminds her of a special memory from 110 years ago. She also appreciates the effort you put in."

Linne raises seven fingers.

"Alright!" Linus cheers, fist-pumping.

Menchi tastes the steak and fries herself, her face twisting slightly. "So many mistakes… I'd barely give it a three out of 10."

Alex looks at her with a smug expression and ignores her comments, making her fume with rage.

Finally, Eirini nervously presents her banana pudding. Linne tries it, her stoic mask softening just a little, and raises seven fingers. Menchi samples it as well and nods in approval. "This is great. Seven out of 10 feels low to me, but I suppose Linne isn't as fond of sweets as I am."

Menchi begins to tally the scores. "So, that's 7.33 out of 10. Not ba—"

Before she can finish, Linne tugs her down and whispers again.

Menchi's eyes widen in surprise. "Linne awards an additional point for composition. She says your team made an effort with plating, garnishing, and presenting a proper course. So, your final score is 8.33 out of 10!"

The group exchanges satisfied smiles, their teamwork and effort paying off. Despite the tension earlier, they feel a quiet sense of pride.

Alex notices Linne open her mouth slightly, and he's almost certain he hears her whisper, "Well done." Before he can react, she and Menchi move on to the next team, leaving him stunned but content.

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