Daiki didn't bother lowering his voice when speaking, so Kurokiba Ryo heard every word. Not that it mattered—Ryo didn't take it to heart.
He was well aware of how abrasive his attitude came off. Situations like the one Daiki had described had happened before. In those cases, he either dished out a beating or took one himself. It was never that deep.
After all, Kurokiba Ryo lived by the law of the jungle. If he wasn't strong enough to win, then he deserved to be knocked down. Simple as that.
Alice Nakiri understood this just as well. But since Ryo was her personal aide, most people wouldn't dare make a move against him.
"If there's nothing else, I'm heading back to rest," Ryo said casually.
Daiki showed no intention of challenging him, so Ryo simply turned and walked off. Once he was gone, Daiki turned to Alice.
"I was hoping you could show me some molecular gastronomy techniques."
He wanted to grasp the basics first, then experiment to see how he might integrate them into his own culinary style.
Alice, always enthusiastic when someone showed interest in her specialty, didn't hesitate. She walked him through several key techniques, explaining them with the clarity and confidence of someone who'd practiced them a thousand times.
She hadn't forgotten what her father had said—about building a good rapport with Daiki. And this was a golden opportunity to deepen that connection.
"Oh, by the way," she said after a while, "can I see those seven kitchen knives you used earlier?"
She'd been intrigued ever since she saw Daiki wielding them with such precision. A hint of envy sparkled in her eyes.
"Sure, but handle them carefully," Daiki said. "They're a lot heavier and sharper than your average blade."
Of course he wouldn't refuse. Alice had just shared so many of her own techniques—it was only fair to let her examine the Seven Star Blades. Besides, he knew she had no intention of stealing them.
As Daiki laid out the knives, Alice leaned in, her eyes lighting up with curiosity.
"From a distance, I didn't catch the detail. But up close… these are incredible. The finish, the balance... they're flawless. Most knives that look this good aren't practical for cooking, but these—these are different."
Her praise was genuine. The knives lacked any ornate patterns, but the clean lines, the unique hue of the steel, and the perfect curvature gave them a kind of restrained beauty that demanded respect.
And she'd seen Daiki use them—knew they weren't just for show. These were battle-tested tools, a true chef's arsenal.
Thanks to Daiki's warning, Alice handled them with care. Still, the moment she gripped one, she could feel the difference. The weight was substantial—nothing unmanageable, but enough to demand a seasoned hand.
"Even when cutting into this wooden board, there's barely any resistance," she murmured. "If this were flesh instead of wood…"
The blade slid effortlessly into the chopping block with minimal pressure. The implications were clear—and unsettling. If a roast chicken was sliced like tofu with these, what else could they cut through?
Alice's expression sobered. She put the knife down carefully. Tools like these weren't just for cooking—they were dangerous in the wrong hands. Their sharpness wasn't just a technical advantage. It was power, pure and unfiltered.
And it made her admire Daiki even more.
He'd only awakened his supernatural talent a few days ago, yet he wielded the Seven Star Blades with skill most chefs couldn't achieve in a lifetime—even with training and power combined.
She couldn't help but imagine Daiki as a relentless perfectionist, spending years pushing his limits, mastering each blade, cutting himself countless times in the process.
Yet... he had no visible scars.
"Must be ridiculously lucky…" she muttered under her breath.
Daiki, unaware of the dramatic montage Alice was playing in her head, simply stood by with a relaxed expression.
Not that she could've guessed the truth: Daiki had only recently come into possession of the Seven Star Blades.
And as Alice suspected, they weren't easy to use. Even with enhanced touch perception, mastering these knives required more than power—it demanded control, practice, and instinct. A weapon in a chef's hands, and a test of their resolve.
Daiki had managed to reach this level of precision and control in just a few days—and it was all thanks to Shiyi.
Shiyi's ability was undeniably overpowering. While its potential upper limit might not surpass the ultra-sensitive "Sense of Touch" ability, in the current moment, it was simply on another level. Daiki's tactile control through Shiyi far outstripped what he could have achieved otherwise.
"That's why you need to be extremely careful when using the Seven Star Blades," he explained calmly. "With their sharpness and weight, even a minor slip could lead to serious injury. Whether it's yourself… or someone else."
He nodded to himself as he spoke. It was only logical—at this level of sharpness, losing a limb was a very real possibility.
"Student Daiki," Alice said, her tone much more serious now, "you should put these away. These knives… they're not for ordinary chefs."
She handed the blade back gingerly, no longer eager to test it. As much as her curiosity burned, self-preservation burned hotter. With their parting words exchanged, Daiki took his leave. Alice and her group were clearly fatigued from their trip, and he had other matters to attend to.
Back in his room, Daiki did what any high-level gourmet student with access to a mystical item would do: he fished.
That's right—fishing.
More precisely, he activated the Fishing Space with a small bait. He hadn't used his daily attempt yet, and even though his recent catches had been unimpressive—ordinary spatulas, basic rice grains, standard-grade utensils—he still held out hope.
After all, it was with a small bait that he had once fished up the Seven Star Blades.
Sure, small bait couldn't be synthesized into a larger one, but skipping a chance felt like wasting potential. So he cast his line.
Then—
"Wait… what is this?"
His eyes lit up.
For the first time in ages, he'd caught something genuinely worthwhile.
A ten-kilogram slab of White-Haired Cindyllah Beef emerged from the fishing space. At first glance, it looked like a high-quality cut—but Daiki immediately recognized it for what it was.
This wasn't just any beef.
This was Cindyllah Beef—a gourmet ingredient straight from the Toriko-verse.
Though it held a capture level under 1 in that world, that still meant it came from a place where animals breathed fire and vegetables fought back. Even by Food Wars! standards, this was divine-grade meat.
In the culinary world he lived in, this was practically a mythical ingredient. Rich marbling, a divine scent even in its raw form, and fibers that shimmered with vitality.
Daiki's heart raced.
All his previous fishing attempts with small bait had netted trivial tools—but now, against all odds, he'd scored a god-tier ingredient. It was like the system had rolled a natural 20.
"This… this'll shake things up."
He stared at the beef with reverence. Not only was it an incredible ingredient to cook with—it was also a new test for the Seven Star Blades. Could they handle a cut this fine? Could he?
A grin tugged at his lips.
Tomorrow would be interesting.