This is the moment that changes everything. A challenge that will set the course of baking for centuries to come. Whisk in hand and determination in the other, I will become The Ultimate Chosen Baker. Anything that stands in my way will fall at the might of my cookies and will know to taste the fear and deliciousness of them. This is where we decide the difference between a baker and a hobbyist. I’m no hobbyist.

  “Uh, CJ, are you ready? They’re starting soon. What are you wearing?” Hopper asks as he looks me over.

  Tugging at the edges of the stolen baker uniform, I put on the baker hat. “I was born ready, Hopper.”

  “No, really, what are you wearing?” he asks again.

  Walking up to him, I place my hand on his shoulder. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re not a baker.”

  “What?” he asks as I walk down the hall and into the arena.

  The roar of the crowd matches that of my beating heart. They’ve come to watch a master at work. It’s time to give them a show.

  Over the crowd, an unfamiliar voice booms through the arena. “Welcome, everybody!! Who’s ready to have a bake off!? I sure am! It’s only right to kick off the year with an event like this!” a woman says from the announcer booth.

  As I walk to the center of the arena, I see a certain Cliff-like figure standing ready at his cooking station. Looking down at my cooking station, I see my trusty portable magic oven.

  “It’s good to see that you didn’t run away,” Cliff says as he stares me down.

  I let out a small chuckle as I place my secret ingredient on the counter. “Oh, Cliff, you insulted the honor of my cookies. I wouldn’t miss the chance to humiliate you in front of all these people.”

  “That doesn’t seem very Chosen of you,” he says with a scoff.

  “You're not facing The Chosen One today. You’re facing The Ultimate Chosen Baker, and he’s going to teach you a thing or two on how to bake cookies,” I say with a devilish smile.

  “It seems like our contestants are already riled up! As preparations are underway, let's ask our special guest who he thinks will win this bake off!” the announcer woman says.

  “Thank you, Miss Rummel.”

  “Call me Vivi!” Vivi insists.

  “Yes, of course, Miss Vivi. As the current Imperial Pastry Chef, I have an intimate knowledge of all that is baking. With this knowledge, I believe that Mister Cliff is the superior baker and will win this bake off, respectfully,” an old man says from the announcer booth.

  “You don’t believe The Chosen One has a good shot of winning!? He is The Chosen One after all!” Vivi asks.

  The old man clears his throat. “Although he is The Chosen One, I can already tell from how their tables are set up that he isn’t well-versed in the craft. I would surmise that his [Cook] is at a low [Level] compared to Mister Cliff. Chosen One or not, [Levels] still matter.”

  I cock my head at his remarks. He’s not wrong. If this were a fair fight, I would get absolutely demolished. After all, I don’t have [Cook], and he does. Good thing I’ve never fucking fought a fair in my life. Fair fights are for losers and people not invested enough to win.

  “What a scathing comment, let's see if your prediction shakes out to be true! Now a word from our contestants!”

  A magic amplifier floats over to Cliff, who promptly grabs it. “Today, I reclaim the honor of the Cooking club that was slandered by this hobbyist. I will expose him as a fraud of a cook,” Cliff proclaims, sending a wave of cheers through the crowd.

  The magic amplifier floats over to me, and I gently take hold of it. Taking a deep breath, I look over the packed arena seats. The first step of winning any battle is in the mind. Once you’ve won there, victory is but guaranteed.

  “Slander? Hobbyist? Fraud? These are bold terms from someone who doesn’t even know the first thing about baking a cookie. It takes courage, determination, and most importantly, taste. You may have the [Skill] of a cook, but you’re missing the heart of one. Which is why I am making a personal vow to every person here. If I don’t win today's bake off, I will never bake another cook again.”

  Silence falls over the roaring crowd that quickly breaks into cheers.

  “Do you believe this, folks?! The Chosen One is confident that he will win! Is it hubris or is it skill!? Let's find out! On your mark, get set, go!” Vivi exclaims.

  Cliff immediately starts as he takes some flour and places it in a bowl.

  The Imperial Pastry Chef gasps. “That technique! I’ve never seen anything like that!”

  “He… just put flour in a bowl!” Vivi says with a little less spunk than before.

  “You don’t understand. He perfectly measured out the amount of flour that he would need using only his sense of touch. This is a feat that only a [Level 4 Cook] could even dream of doing,” he says.

  “Oh… Amazing!!!”

  I shake my head at the comments. Taking out a measuring cup, I carefully scoop out the perfect amount of flour into a bowl.

  “Impossible! The Forbidden Equatorial Technique!”

  “The who what now?!” Vivi exclaims.

  “The Forbidden Equatorial Technique! I thought it was lost in the last great war. To think that The Chosen One knew it. I may have underestimated him,” he says as he focuses on the bake off.

  “What is this Forbidden Technique?!” Vivi asks with curiosity.

  “You shave off five seconds of your lifespan to create a flat surface of flour.”

  “Oh… Amazing!!”

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  What? I look down at the flour I confidently, but randomly, placed in the bowl. What?! Is this old coot off his rocker?

  Cliff scoffs as he readies his wet ingredients. “Using Forbidden Techniques can only get you so far,” he says.

  Wait, is that an actual technique? I can’t be thinking about this right now. I need to get moving.

  Using muscle memory, I pour out white sugar, brown sugar, and butter into another bowl. Wasting no time, Cliff does the same. Activating the magic whisk that I stole, I begin to mix the ingredients together.

  “That’s… it can’t be!”

  “What is it!?” Vivi asks.

  “It’s the lost technique of the famous baker Fibonacci. The Golden Ratio!” he says with a seriousness that could kill.

  “The Golden Ratio!? Does it have to do with the amount of ingredients he added!? Is it an ancient recipe of sorts!?” Vivi asks, having gained back some of the spark she lost.

  “No. It’s something even greater than that. It’s the way he mixes.”

  “Oh… Amazing!”

  Cliff looks at me with a distraught face. “The Golden Ratio! Who taught you that!?”

  I scoff. “I guess I’m more than just a hobbyist or fraud, right?”

  Shaking his head, Cliff activates his magic whisk only to have it turn off immediately. “What?! I just charged this yesterday! How am I supposed to mix now!?"

  “Only an amateur blames his tools,” I taunt.

  Cliff stares daggers at me before cursing under his breath. He then focuses MP towards the palm of his hand. A small spinning vortex forms in his palm, which he promptly uses to mix the ingredients.

  “Don’t count me out yet!” he proclaims.

  Caught up in his energy, I laugh. “That’s it, Cliff! Now you’re understanding what it truly means to cook!”

  I sabotaged that whisk, but it seems like it’s going to take more than that to stop him. Good thing I’m thorough.

  While mixing the ingredients, I take some vanilla and add it to the mixture. At the same time, I [Throw] eggs up in the air, cracking them with other eggs while separating them from the shell. The yolks fall into my bowl as I don’t even miss a beat of mixing.

  Cliff gives me a large smile as he uses wind magic to precisely crack and separate the eggs. He even manages to pick out the rotten ones that I mixed in.

  “Are those secret techniques as well!?” Vivi asks.

  “No. That’s just how you normally crack open and mix ingredients when you have faulty equipment. Nothing special about it.”

  “Oh… ok!”

  Using the chaos of our cooking as cover, I carefully mix in a special ingredient. I tested this hundreds of times to get an idea about how much I need to add. I need to be precise. One droplet too much and the judge will be dead. This is my secret technique!

  I squeeze three drops into the mix.

  Perfect!

  Wasting no time, I add the flour to the mix along with chocolate chips and a pinch of salt. Cliff and I race as we mix our cookie dough into perfection. Placing down my whisk, I grab the dough and begin to roll it into balls.

  “Amazing!!!”

  “What!?” Vivi asks with a hint of defeat in her voice.

  “There’s a sale on flour! Buy two bags, get the third one free!”

  “Oh… Amazing.”

  That’s actually an extremely good deal. I’ll have to ask him where that sale is happening later.

  “We should buy a bag each and then split the free bag!” Cliff says.

  I look over at him in astonishment. “Fool! We should buy three bags and then split the three free bags! Buying in bulk is always cost-effective!”

  “Great Idea!” Cliff says as he places his tray of cookies in the magic oven.

  Following his lead, I place my tray into my oven. Concentrating, I pour mana into the oven to set the perfect temperature and then maintain it. Cliff slams his oven as he realizes it isn’t working. Without breaking a step, he takes the wooden utensils and creates a small fire. Using his wind magic, he controls the strength of the flames.

  “How long will it take to bake these cookies?” Vivi asks the old man.

  “Anywhere between eight to ten minutes,” he says.

  “Will anything else happen between now and then?” Vivi asks with a confused look.

  “No.”

  Cliff and I fall from exhaustion as the cookies finish baking. I wipe the sweat off my brow as I take the cookies out of the oven and place them on the counter. Cliff stumbles over to the counter, almost dropping the cookies in the process. Luckily for him, he catches them, saving them from the ground.

  Vivi and the Imperial Pastry Chef, who made their way down here, look over the cookies and give a nod.

  “Congratulations, contestants! Now, for the moment we have all been waiting for! If you will do the honors,” Vivi says to the old man.

  Nodding, the old man grabs one of Cliff's cookies and takes a bite out of it. “Texture, taste, and consistency are all high tier. Truly, the work of an aspiring master of his craft. You did a good job.”

  Cliff gives a small nod. “Thank you, Sir.”

  The old man then looks over at my cookies and carefully takes a bite from one of my cookies. The man's eyes go wide in shock.

  Oh no. Did I somehow mess up the concentration of the poison? Damn it. How could I have messed up? I knew I should’ve made an antidote. What am-

  “Amazing! The texture and consistency are on par with Cliffs, but this taste. I’ve never had anything like this. The flavor is divine. You’ve proven me wrong, Chosen One. I consider you the winner.”

  “You heard it, folks! We have a winner! The Chosen One wins the bake off!” Vivi says, having bounced back from earlier.

  What remains of the crowd goes wild.

  With a large smile, I look over the crowd and find Hopper with a serious face. He’s still like that?” I’ll have to talk to him today. As I think Vivi shoves the amplifier in my face.

  Clearing my throat, I take the amplifier. “Although I won, I’d like to congratulate my opponent, Cliff. I was wrong. He does know how to bake a cookie, and he definitely has the heart of a cook. You’ve earned my respect today, Cliff,” I say while giving him a nod.

  Cliff graciously returns the nod.

  “Well, that was a thrilling and somewhat anticlimactic ending to the bake off! Next week we have the Class War. So, stay tuned!” Vivi says to the crowd.