Third-Person POV
The hotel was abuzz with activity. After days of grueling travel and intense battles, Toriko, Sunny, Komatsu, and Hsaet were finally back, and the entire staff was eager to help them settle in. The kitchens were busy preparing for the feast, and the air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of roasting meats and simmering broths.
Hsaet moved through the bustling corridors with a sense of purpose. The familiar sounds and smells of the hotel brought a sense of comfort, but there was also a lingering tension in the air that he couldn't ignore. The vision of Madara and the subtle feeling of being watched still haunted him, like a shadow he couldn't shake.
As he made his way to the kitchen, he was greeted by the head chef, a burly man with a thick mustache and a warm smile. "Hsaet! Good to see you back in one piece," the chef boomed, clapping him on the shoulder. "We've been saving a spot for you in the kitchen. Ready to show off those skills?"
Hsaet smiled, nodding. "Always. What's on the menu?"
The chef led him to the prep area, where a large slab of Ground Dragon meat awaited. The meat was a deep, rich red, marbled with fat that promised incredible flavor. "We've got this beauty here, courtesy of Toriko," the chef said with a grin. "Thought you might want to take the lead on this one."
Hsaet's eyes gleamed as he examined the meat. The quality was superb, and the possibilities for preparation were endless. But even as he focused on the task at hand, the sense of unease lingered. He pushed it aside, determined to do his best work.
"Let's get started, then," he said, grabbing a knife and setting to work.
First-Person POV
As I began to slice into the meat, I let my instincts take over. The blade glided through the flesh with ease, each cut precise and deliberate. I could feel the power of the Gourmet Cells coursing through me, heightening my senses and guiding my hands.
But even as I worked, my mind was elsewhere, replaying Madara's warning over and over again. There was a darkness in this world, one that I had yet to see. I had no idea what it was, or where it might strike, but I couldn't afford to be caught off guard.
The kitchen was loud, filled with the clatter of pots and pans, the hiss of steam, and the chatter of the other chefs. But to me, it was all background noise, a distant hum that barely registered. My focus was on the meat, on perfecting each cut, but also on the gnawing sense of dread that I couldn't shake.
Why had Madara shown himself to me? What did he mean by darkness? And why now, when things seemed to be going so well?
I finished preparing the meat and handed it off to the other chefs to begin cooking. As I wiped my hands on a towel, I caught sight of my reflection in the polished surface of a steel pot. My Sharingan flared to life for a moment, the three tomoe spinning in my eyes.
It was a reminder of the power I possessed, but also of the responsibility that came with it. I had been given a second chance in this world, and I couldn't afford to waste it. Whatever darkness was coming, I had to be ready.
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Toriko walked in, his usual confident grin on his face. "Hey, Hsaet! How's the meat coming along?"
"Almost done," I replied, returning his grin. "It's going to be one of our best meals yet."
"Can't wait," Toriko said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I've been craving some good food after all that action."
As I watched him, I couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. Toriko was strong—one of the strongest people I'd ever met—but even he might not be prepared for what was coming. I had to find a way to warn him, to make sure he was ready without causing unnecessary alarm.
But before I could say anything, the head chef called out to us. "Toriko, Hsaet! We've got everything ready. Let's start the feast!"
The dining hall was packed with guests, all eagerly awaiting the meal. The atmosphere was lively, with people chatting, laughing, and toasting to their health and good fortune. The long tables were set with fine linens and gleaming silverware, and the centerpiece was the massive platter of Ground Dragon meat, cooked to perfection and surrounded by an array of colorful side dishes.
As I took my seat at the table, the unease in my gut returned. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen, something that would shatter the peace we had worked so hard to achieve.
But for now, all I could do was sit and wait.
Third-Person POV
The feast was a grand affair, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Toriko, Sunny, Komatsu, and Hsaet sat at the head of the table, their plates piled high with food. The Ground Dragon meat was the star of the meal, its rich, savory flavor earning rave reviews from everyone who tasted it.
But as the evening wore on, Hsaet's unease grew stronger. He kept his eyes on the crowd, scanning for anything out of the ordinary, but everything seemed normal. The guests were enjoying themselves, the staff was attentive, and the food was as delicious as always.
And yet, something felt off.
As the plates were cleared away and dessert was served, Hsaet excused himself from the table. He needed some fresh air, some space to think. He slipped out of the dining hall and into the quiet, dimly lit corridors of the hotel.
The hallway was empty, the only sound the soft padding of his footsteps on the carpeted floor. He made his way to the balcony, where the cool night air greeted him like an old friend. The moon was high in the sky, casting a pale light over the landscape below.
Hsaet leaned on the railing, staring out into the night. The darkness stretched out before him, vast and endless, and for a moment, he felt like it was staring back.
What was coming? What was this darkness that Madara had warned him about? He clenched his fists, feeling the power of the Sharingan thrumming in his veins. Whatever it was, he would face it. He had to.
He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late.
A shadow loomed over him, and before he could react, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Hsaet spun around, his Sharingan flaring to life, but the figure was faster. A fist connected with his jaw, sending him stumbling back against the railing.
He caught himself just in time, his eyes narrowing as he took in the figure before him. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in black from head to toe. His face was obscured by a hood, but Hsaet could see the glint of a weapon in his hand.
"You've got guts, kid," the man said, his voice a low growl. "But you're in over your head."
Hsaet didn't respond. His mind was racing, analyzing the situation, looking for an opening. The man was strong, but Hsaet was faster. He just needed to be smart about this.
The man lunged at him, the blade in his hand flashing in the moonlight. Hsaet dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike, and retaliated with a quick punch to the man's side. The blow landed, but the man barely flinched. He was tougher than he looked.
Hsaet activated his Sharingan, his eyes locking onto the man's movements. He could see every twitch, every shift of muscle, and he used that to his advantage. He dodged another strike, then another, each one coming closer than the last.
But the man wasn't giving up. He pressed forward, relentless, his strikes becoming more and more aggressive. Hsaet could feel the heat of battle rising, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. This wasn't just some random attack—this was a test, a challenge.
And Hsaet was determined to win.
He waited for the right moment, then struck. His fist connected with the man's jaw, sending him staggering back. Hsaet followed up with a kick to the chest, knocking the man off balance. The man growled in frustration, his grip on the blade tightening as he prepared to strike again.
But before he could, Hsaet lunged forward, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it behind his back. The man let out a pained grunt, dropping the blade to the ground with a clatter. Hsaet didn't let go, his grip like iron as he forced the man to his knees.
"Who sent you?" Hsaet demanded, his voice cold and steady.
The man didn't answer. He struggled against Hsaet's hold, but it was no use. Hsaet tightened his grip, his eyes burning with intensity.
"Who sent you?" he repeated, his tone more insistent.
Finally, the man let out a low chuckle. "You'll find out soon enough, kid," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "This is just the beginning."
With a swift motion, the man wrenched himself free from Hsaet's grip, rolling away and springing to his feet. Before Hsaet could react,
the man dashed toward the edge of the balcony and leapt over the railing, disappearing into the night.
Hsaet ran to the edge, but it was too late. The man was gone, swallowed by the darkness.
For a moment, Hsaet stood there, staring into the abyss below. His heart was pounding, his mind racing with questions. Who was that man? What did he want? And what did he mean by "this is just the beginning"?
He didn't have the answers, but one thing was clear: the darkness that Madara had warned him about was closer than he had thought.
And Hsaet knew that he needed to be ready.
He turned and walked back into the hotel, his resolve stronger than ever. Whatever was coming, he would face it head-on. He had no choice.
Because in this world, only the strongest survived.