Chapter 31: The Glutton's Gauntlet
"Hahaha, Roy, you're here! Hurry up, the contest is about to start. Just you wait, you're going down this time!" Ace laughed as he saw Roy approach.
"Did you eat lunch?" Roy asked with a sly smile.
"A little. There's so much good food here, I couldn't help myself," Ace admitted, nodding.
"Then you've already lost. You ate, but I've been starving all afternoon. Right now, I feel like I could eat a whole Sea King," Roy declared, his grin widening.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Ace was stunned. He never expected Roy to take their bet so seriously, fasting just to gain an edge. He patted his own stomach, which was already full of ten boxes of takoyaki. Though he could still eat more, he was no match for Roy's completely empty stomach. The thought of doing the crew's laundry for a week made his face turn ashen.
Ace rubbed his hands together nervously, his smile turning pleading. "Hey, Roy, let's talk about this. This feels a bit unfair. What if we just call the bet off?"
"Do you really think that's possible?" Roy chuckled. "I've been hungry all day, and now you want to back out? Even if I agreed, do you think they would?" He pointed at the rest of the crew, who were watching the exchange with keen interest.
"NO WAY!" they all shouted in unison, raising their hands with gleeful smiles.
"Aghhhhh!!!" Ace groaned, on the verge of tearing his hair out.
"All contestants for the Gluttony Bowl, please make your way to the square! The winner will receive these magnificent prizes!" a portly announcer boomed from the stage.
On display were three exquisite ingredients, one of which was still wriggling. There was an Elephant Tuna, a Earth-Bear paw, and a live Spotted Madara Octopus.
The sight made Thatch, the crew's chef, gasp, his eyes shining. These were rare and precious delicacies. The Elephant Tuna was a deep-sea treasure almost impossible to catch by conventional means. The Earth-Bear paw was famously thick, tender, and easy to bone. But the last one was the real prize.
"That's a Spotted Madara Octopus!" Thatch whispered excitedly. "A treasure found only in the abyssal trenches three kilometers under the sea! It's even more valuable than the tuna, and it's still alive! It's perfect! You have to win this!"
"No problem," Roy said, cracking his knuckles. He then shot a triumphant look at Ace. "It's impossible for me to lose now."
Ace's face was a mask of pure misery; he could already see his laundry-filled future.
"Oh, and Ace," Roy added innocently. "I've got three pairs of underwear that have been piling up for a few days. You can start with those."
"You bastard! You planned this!" Ace glared, though a hint of a smile betrayed his good humor.
"I didn't expect you to propose the bet. You made your bed, now lie in it," Roy retorted with a final, victorious smirk.
The contest began. There were nearly a thousand participants, and Roy wondered if the organizers would even turn a profit.
"The first dish: Braised Spineback Pork!" the announcer declared.
A collective groan echoed through the square.
"Spineback Pork? And braised? It's so greasy! I won't have any appetite left for the next rounds!" one young man wailed.
"I knew it! I should've brought some mint to cut through the fat!" another portly contestant lamented.
Spineback Pork was a local favorite, but it was notoriously, gut-bustingly rich. The braising process locked in all the fat, ensuring that few people would have room for anything else afterward. But the rules were the rules, and the organizers held all the power. When a noodle-bowl-sized portion of the glistening meat was placed before each contestant, nearly eighty percent of the participants looked ready to quit.
"We can't send this back, can we?" a large man next to Roy muttered despairingly.
"Ready… GO!"
At the signal, everyone picked up their utensils. Roy and Ace didn't bother with forks or knives; they grabbed the hefty slabs of meat with both hands and devoured them in a few massive bites.
"So greasy," Roy commented, washing it down with a large gulp of provided tea.
The large man beside him stared, dumbfounded. Seeing Roy's gaze, he quickly gave a thumbs-up. "Brother, you're a better man than I am." He then hurriedly began forcing his own portion down.
The contest had a five-minute time limit per round. Anyone who failed to finish was eliminated. The entire Spade crew passed the first round, though the others wondered how they'd manage the next one after such a heavy start.
"The second course is assorted tropical fruits, to help cleanse your palate! Eat up!" the announcer said, a weird smile playing on his lips.
Another wave of groans followed as buckets of fruit were wheeled out on carts, each pile looking like a small mountain.
Another "Go!" and Roy and Ace demolished their portions with terrifying speed, though Ace was starting to look a little strained.
"Can I… move around a bit?" Ace asked an attendant weakly.
"Sorry, sir. Contestants must remain seated during the event," the old man replied with an apologetic smile.
"I… will… win!" Ace declared, raising a fist toward Roy, though it lacked its usual fire.
"Not a chance," Roy shot back, looking perfectly comfortable.
"The third course: Sea King Kabobs!"
The door-sized skewers of meat whittled the competition down to just over a hundred people.
"The fourth course: Soba Noodle Mountain!"
The veritable hills of noodles proved too much for most. Only ten contestants remained, including Roy, Ace, and the large man who had been sitting next to Roy.
"I'm impressed you two made it to the finals!" the large man said, sounding genuinely surprised.
"I was last year's champion, the 'Gluttonous Porcupine'! I'll challenge you properly this time!" another, even larger man bellowed.
Roy was momentarily taken aback. So this was the defending champion. It seemed he couldn't let his guard down. That said, he was only about twenty percent full.
"For the final round: the 'Nine Pools of Meat and Wine'! There are ten lanes. Each lane has three stages. You must completely clear each stage. The fastest eater will be crowned this year's Gluttony King!"
"Ready… GO!"
The ten finalists charged forward. The first stage in Roy's lane was a veritable mountain of meat, roughly five meters square. Roy didn't flinch. He grabbed whole haunches and shoved them into his mouth, occasionally pausing to drink from a cup of tea a server diligently provided.
Two minutes later, Roy was the first to clear the meat mountain and rush toward the second stage.
"Incredible! Our first contestant has finished! It took him only two minutes!" the announcer cried, utterly shocked.
"Damn it! I won't give up!" Ace gritted his teeth, forcing more meat down, but soon tears welled in his eyes. "Ugh… I really can't… anymore…" He slumped over, defeated.
The second stage was, true to its name, a pairing of wine and meat. Roy powered through, but the liquid volume slowed him down, taking him five minutes. He was now about halfway full.
"The 'Gluttonous Porcupine' has cleared the first stage! He was last year's champion, but his speed is far too slow! Contestant 213 has already entered the third and final stage, where he will challenge twenty chefs!" the announcer bellowed.
A chef with an impressive beard smiled at Roy. "Young man, the third stage is simple. You must 'defeat' twenty of us. We will cook continuously. You win by eating everything we prepare, or if we can no longer keep up with your pace. If more than forty finished dishes pile up in front of you, you lose."
"No problem," Roy said, cracking his neck. "I'm only about half-full anyway. You just have to keep up."
"Only… half-full?!" the twenty chefs stammered in unison. But they were professionals. They ignited their stoves, and the first dish was ready in under a minute. Their speed only increased from there.
Roy showed no fear, devouring the piping-hot dishes as fast as they arrived, seemingly impervious to the heat.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then a full hour.
THUD!
Finally, one chef collapsed from exhaustion. Soon, others followed. Their ingredients were nearly depleted, and Roy still sat there, waiting patiently like a baby bird, ready for the next morsel.
"There's no need to continue," the head chef said, raising a thumb in surrender. "You win."
"OHHHHHH! The winner of this year's Gluttony Bowl is… Contestant Number 213!"
"Number 213?" Roy blinked, looked down at the number pinned to his chest, and sighed. It was, indeed, 213.