[Broadcast Feed: The Flavor Network | Planet Crustara-7 — The Endless Shore]
The sky was gold, the sand was gold, even the seagulls sparkled like overpriced jewelry.
Lira shaded her eyes. "I feel like I'm being mugged by sunlight."
Arin Sol stepped out of the shuttle wearing flip-flops, a red apron, and what looked suspiciously like sunscreen made of peanut sauce.
"Can you smell that, Lira? That's adventure… and possibly heatstroke."
She sighed. "Mostly heatstroke."
1 — THE LEGEND
According to the archives, Crustara-7 hid the Golden Crab — a creature so packed with umami it could make a vegetarian question their morals.
Its shell was pure gold. Its mood was pure violence.
Lira scrolled her tablet. "No confirmed sightings. Half the chefs who came here disappeared."
Arin grinned. "Maybe they ascended."
"Or boiled."
"Same temperature range, really."
2 — PREP TIME
Arin hammered a "Base Camp" sign into the salt dunes and opened his Flavor Toolkit.
Out came a collapsible wok, a spatula, and a single beach umbrella labeled For Dramatic Silhouette Only.
Lira stared. "You brought an umbrella to a planet made of fire and salt?"
"Presentation matters."
She holstered her Whisk Blaster — a chrome-plated firearm with a rotating whisk barrel and three settings: Stir, Sear, and Purge.
"Yeah, presentation. Right before cremation."
A moment later he taped a note to the umbrella: 'Reserved for Legend.'
3 — THE GOLDEN CRAB ARRIVES
The ground trembled. The ocean hissed.
A claw the size of a jeep burst from the sand, spraying molten salt.
The Golden Crab rose — ten meters tall, eyes glowing like microwaved treasure.
Arin pointed. "Lira… we are so getting a cooking show out of this."
The crab snapped its claws; the shockwave launched his flip-flops into orbit.
Lira pulled her Whisk Blaster. "Plan?"
"Simple. We season it until it respects us."
4 — COOKING COMBAT
The crab lunged, each step boiling the beach.
Arin dodged sideways, slicing with his Quantum Knife. The blade released a pulse of aroma so strong the sand caramelized.
Lira shouted, "You're caramelizing the ground!"
"Flavor foundation!" he yelled back.
The crab retaliated with a burst of steam that smelled suspiciously like chili oil.
"Spicy defense mechanism," Arin coughed. "Respect."
He slid beneath a claw, channeling sour energy.
"Vinegar Resonance Cut!"
The claw cracked, sending golden fragments flying.
Lira spun her Whisk Blaster, switching it to Sear Mode — a beam of concentrated heat whipped outward, flash-frying the air.
She fired, shouting, "Sous Vide Strike!"
The crab recoiled, steam hissing from its joints.
"Stop naming your moves like condiments!" she yelled.
"Can't. Branding!"
5 — THE MOMENT OF TASTE
The crab staggered, leaking molten gold. Beneath its armor glowed a heartbeat of white light.
Arin froze. "Wait… it's self-basting."
Lira blinked. "That's… horrifyingly efficient."
Through the Palate Spectrum, he tasted its emotion: not rage, but weary pride.
He lowered his knife. "It's not guarding treasure — it is the treasure."
The crab extended one claw and placed a glowing pearl in his palm.
Lira whispered, "Did we just get tipped?"
"Yep," he said softly. "Five-star service."
6 — THE COOKING
Back at camp, Arin worked in reverent chaos.
He melted the pearl into peanut sauce, mixed in alien citrus, and stirred like the universe was watching.
Oil popped. Lira ducked. "You're splattering across dimensions!"
He winked. "That's how you know it's done."
The aroma rolled over the dunes.
He plated the Golden Crab Kare-Kare — creamy, glowing, absurdly majestic.
Lira took one bite.
Her soul briefly left her body, performed a waltz with the constellations, then returned.
She blinked tears away. "This tastes like winning a lottery you forgot you entered."
Arin grinned. "Ano, ayos? Ayos ba, Lira?"
She nodded slowly. "…Ayos. Dangerously ayos."
7 — AFTERTASTE
The Flavor Network feed exploded with applause.
Viewers across galaxies screamed, "EARTH WINS AGAIN!"
But Lira's tablet flickered:
[System Notice: Unregistered Taste Signature Detected]
[Possible Origin: Non-Culinary Entity]
She frowned. "Non-culinary?"
Arin was already reclining under his umbrella, sipping coconut juice from a gold shell.
"Relax. Probably nothing."
The beach rumbled — just enough to rattle the pans.
Lira raised an eyebrow. "Still 'nothing'?"
He smirked. "If it was something, it'd be seasoning itself by now."
She groaned. "One day, that confidence will kill you."
"Then I'll die flavorful."
End of Chapter 6