Spike limped his way out of his test chamber, the shining gem in his pocket, raising it up. “Got it!”

“Spike!” Sandra rushed up to him. “Are you okay? Why haven’t you healed yourself.”

Spike laughed weakly. “Well, I think I’m mostly out of gas.”

“Hah,” Smolder belted out a laugh. “That won’t be a problem for much longer,” She flipped up another juicy bit of magic food. “I’m actually kinda running low, we need a few.”

“You should go next, you’re the last one,” Spike said, taking a bite of the juicy meat.

Smolder looked over her shoulder at her brother. “I dunno maybe we should let Gar-Gar take another try.”

Her brother looked up from his pacing and muttering. “What? Me? Now?” He looked back and forth. “You haven’t gone yet, right? You go. I’ve still got stuff to do.” He turned back away, mining a sword slash with his hands, muttering, “The cut of my blade, then you’ll be slayed,” he nodded. “Yeah, that one.”

Smolder looked back at Spike, giving a shrug. “Alright, I guess.” She smiled her trademark easy smile. “I’ve got this down pat, I’m sure it’ll give me no trouble.”

Spike laughed weakly again. “Yeah, I’m just gonna… rest for a minute.”

Sandra sank down next to him. "Good idea, let's get our breath back." Her fingers played over her staff. "You know, Twilight… She's really special."

"Yeah," agreed Spike on his way to thumping down on his butt. "She really is."

"You're lucky to have her."

He smiled at that. "Best sister a dragon can ask for."

"Hey!" Smolder gave Spike quite the glare. "I'll show you best dragon sister. I'm going in." And she stormed towards her chamber with a trail of irate smoke.

She had seen the other challenges, all grueling matches of their abilities in unfavorable situations, stretching them to their very limits. She brandished her knives, ready for whatever the dungeon would throw at her.

She did not expect a sudden harsh light being shone down on her as lively music began. "Welcome to Cook Match," boomed the same announcer they had heard in every arena match they'd had so far. "A true test of culinary skills." The light began to spread, showing an audience in all directions, cheering wildly. "Now with more audience participation! One member of the audience can be called for each round. Be ready!"

Smolder's hands fell, knives hanging limply. "Wait what now? No… fighting?"

A fluffy bear of a person in a sharp suit approached. "Of course there will be fighting! A battle to the death… in the kitchen!" He gestured dramatically as a wizard was lit up. "Your opponent. He knows a thousand hexes, each with their own flavor. They promise to curse your tongue and bedevil your belly. Bring it together for Witchhazel!" The crowd roared deafeningly in encouragement.

In a twirl of magic, a shade appeared over a set of cooking equipment, with a billowing dress, but also a broad brimmed chef’s hat, adorning a faceless head. It bowed, but said nothing, summoning a spatula with a star at the end of it.

The crowd clapped for it, the shade posing with it’s spatula, and Smolder puffing out some smoke. A second spotlight lit up another cooking station, which Smolder took a place at. “Let’s get this going!”

“Our challenger is eager to start the competition, but is she truly ready? Let’s bring up the first ingredie--I mean audience participant!”

The light shimmered and expanded, showing that there was an audience of a variety of monsters, more set up in a pit than seats. “Firstup… we’ll have pork!”

The monster that ambled up were two huge boar monsters. “Well, begin gathering materials!”

Smolder set out, hitting the boar monster with a flurry of slices, who responded with thrashing and attempts to maul Smolder. Mostly they missed, but there was a hit or two that scored. She looked at her opponent out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other boar was… pretty much just sitting there. Witchhazel was just channeling something as the boar stood there and took the magic.

Smodler grit her teeth, no luck that she’d get it harder than that, and she sliced her last slice on the boar, it disappearing into a poof and her working her magic, which turned it into a whole slab of boar tenderloin. “Nice!” she cried out.

“Our challenger has finished gathering her ingredients, and ahead of Witchhazel,” the announcer voice rang out. “But that’s not the whole story, is it.”

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Quickly, Smolder ran over to her grill, ready to plop her tenderloin down, only to find that there was no seasoning provided, nor oil. And the magical ingredient was hardly seasoned itself… across from her, the Witchhazel’s boar popped into the same tenderloin, and it used it’s spatula-wand to levitate it over to the pan, the heat having already started and placing it directly on, no oil, no seasoning.

Smolder quickly trimmed her meat, and blew fire onto the pan until she was sure it was ready to sear, plopping her meat on it.

After she was done, the Witchhazel turned it’s faceless head, and raised the spatula, brandishing it like a wand, casting a spell at Smolder, which nailed her as she wasn’t watching.

“What?!” Smolder hissed as the spell stung, but worse than that, she started to feel… bad. Oh no, a status effect. She usually handled those, with a surplus of healing snacks from the dungeon. Snacks that she no longer had. She wheeled around, if she could attack her enemy chef then… she darted over, slamming almost face first into a magical shield.

“Ah ah ah,” the announcer announced. “No direct attacks against your opponent.”

“What?! She directly attacked me,” Smolder protested.

“Unfortunately, status effects are indirect attacks, as per the rules, you’ll have to weather it out.”

Smolder cursed under her breath.

“But fear not, ingredient two is on it’s way! Are you ready for some bread!”

What ambled out from the crowd was not bread, but was a dough monster of some sort, waddling with rolls of what could be confused for fat, but were more plant-like, one hoped. “Fine,” Smolder spat, wincing from the damage from the poison effect. She set out to the monster, starting to slice at it’s amorphous form, blowing flame on it when needed.

The Witchhazel continued its peaceful no violence magic of turning it into it’s ingredients.

“Dang it,” Smolder said under her breath. “I’m hurtin out here, and I don’t think I can make it the whole fight without that. Did I already mess up?” her eyes wandered, the amorphous monster not actually being as dangerous than the poison, and in the crowd she saw it. The serpentine lamia is the exact kind of monster she’d use to make an antidote food. What if she.. She looked over at the opponent. She wasn’t told the rules but… She went to the side of the arena, finding no wall, no opposition, and set off, barreling through the crowd, which occasionally cheered, and occasionally took slices at her.

“Oh, and our challenger has set off into the crowd, perhaps she has another ingredient to procure?”

She increased her speed, and blasted through the lamia at max speed, “Searing Strike!” It popped into a little grilled skewer of snake meat, and Smolder popped it into her mouth. Now to get back to the game… but the announcer said ingredient.

She didn’t want to go slowly, but as she was running back, there was a rock monster. A cloudy white rock monster. A monster that looked like it was made of salt. And boy did she need seasoning… So she stopped, and turned her knives onto this monster, too.

Outside the competition, the others watched on curiously. Sandra gestured at the display. "That looks both more and less stressful than I went through."

"I'm gonna have to agree there."

Garble looked least impressed. "She doesn't have to actually fight. You two did that. I don't get it…"

"Yeah, she's just struggling without being allowed to fight. That's the challenge," Spike argued. "Ooo, nice cut." He pumped his fist, watching Smolder surprise a monster, turning it from living to ingredient in a flash. "You can do it!" he cheered, Sandra joining him in a chorus of encouragement, even if they couldn't be heard.

Smolder was hard at work, trying to balance keeping herself vigorous even as she prepared her meal, forced to bounce between supplemental ingredients and the main course. "Bonus." She sent a sprinkle over her cooking meat, having just enough extra to add some flavor. "I got this."

And, best part, she had all the flavor and the Witchhazel will have none. Vinegar for the greens. Wine for the sauce. Pepper for the.. Uh… everything. Herbs, onion, oil, butter! Everything she’d need.

Soon she had a veritable feast, prepared just by herself. It felt like an hour of cooking crammed into just a few minutes, and the announcer’s voice rang out. “Spatulas down everyone, it’s time for judgement!”

Smolder put down her cooking implements but gripped her knives harder, now what?

The ground began to tremble as the audience mobilized. They were all approaching the completed meals with low grunts and reaching hands. This would be no delicate sampling. "Wha?" Smolder scooted out of the way of the crowd. "Is this how it's supposed to work?"

"Of course!" came the unseen announcer. "A true culinarian has to please all manner of clients." With great gnashing and feasting noises, the two preparations began to dissolve under the united hunger of the crowd. "While you went for a specific flavor profile, our defending champ played it safe, hoping for a higher average rating. Which will pay off?!"

"Aw, c'mon!" Smolder threw up her hands, knives still held. "Anycreature has to taste my stuff's better even if it isn't their specific thing."

"We'll let the audience decide that. Return to your seat and place your judgments!" Beside each chair, on each armrest, sprang a dial to rate the tastiness of each chef's cooking. "There can only be one winner, and you all get to help pick it!"

Smolder snorted and shut up as the crowd returned to their seats and started fiddling with their knobs. Dammit almost all of them were giving the Witchhazel decent scores, because of course they were. And not all of them gave her good scores, usually the stranger the beast the worse the score. No, a plant monster might not like a meal that has butter on everything. But more than a few were rating her well, and some gave her max scores.

She grit her teeth, waiting for them to finish.

“Alright, here it is, the final judgement…” There was a drum roll coming from somewhere. “The winner iiis… The challenger!” Smolder exhaled a breath of relief. “It seems her gambit of putting flavors on everything did indeed pay off, tune in next…” The announcer’s voice trailed off, and even the roar of the crowd faded as they did. The Witchhazel turned to Smolder, bowing and shimmering away, leaving a floating shining gem where she used to be.

Smolder wasted no time launching forward and up to grab the jewel with a triumphant cry. "Yes! Oh, wow, she is going to be so proud." Visions of her mentor in her mind, wide-eyed as she told the story of the day. "Yeah!" With a pump of a fist, she looked around. There, a little exit sign with an arrow, as one might expect in a television studio. "Coming on out," she called, assuming the others were watching her do her victory strut.