Chapter 471 – The Festival of Golden Brews
The first Great Festival of Golden Brews began at sunset, when the sky burned orange over a valley that, just a year ago, had been nothing but farmland. Now it had been transformed into a vast open fairground. Lanterns shaped like rice stalks glowed above the crowd, and the smell of food, yeast, and magic hung heavy in the air.
Humans, vampires, elves, dwarves, dragonkin, beastfolk—races that once ignored each other—walked side by side, crowding toward the long wooden tables that had been set up in wide rings. There were no royal pavilions, no velvet ropes. Tonight, everyone stood as equals in front of the stalls.
The brewers came from every corner of the world. Each tent bore its own colors and banners, painted with the brewer's family crest or alchemical signature. Barrels taller than men stood stacked behind them, each one filled with a beer made from Aten rice and a secret twist: fruits from the southern jungles, mountain herbs, honey infused with mana.
From the first opening toast, the air was alive with sound. Laughter and clinking mugs rolled across the valley like waves. Bands played—human fiddles and elven flutes mixing with the deep drums of the dwarves—and in every direction, something golden foamed in glasses.
Near the central stage, a young brewer from Japan poured out cups of a sake-beer hybrid so smooth that even the vampire lords closed their eyes to savor it. Not far away, a dark-skinned elven woman from Alfheim had crafted a pale, sparkling ale that shimmered faintly with green light, the taste of a summer forest. A dwarven clan offered mugs so strong that humans coughed and laughed, swearing their throats had caught fire.
No one fought. No one even argued. Every mug passed between strangers became a reason to talk.
Henri Valois stood near the first row of tables, silent, just watching. It had been a long month since he returned from the farmhouse, but he never imagined this. He could see it everywhere: small family breweries with their first alchemist; humans explaining their new brews to elves; a vampire and a farmer raising mugs together like old friends.
Then, halfway through the night, a stir passed through the crowd as a large tent opened at the far end. Out came a cart holding tall crystal barrels—the first public appearance of Crimson Gold. For centuries, it had been hidden behind the walls of the Crimson Court, but tonight, the elders had chosen to share a small amount, not as a product, but as a gesture.
A line formed instantly, and when the first taste reached the lips of the crowd, there was silence. Even those who had never tasted magic before could feel it.
And as the night deepened, Henri realized something. It wasn't just a festival. It was a peace treaty written not with pens but with mugs. All around him, people from worlds that had been divided for thousands of years were clinking glasses, arguing about flavors instead of bloodlines.
Somewhere behind him, an elf laughed, loud and carefree. A vampire, his silver eyes shining faintly, raised a glass toward Henri from across the tables.
Henri smiled. For the first time, he felt like he had witnessed the beginning of something that might last far longer than even Crimson Gold.
Above them, lanterns swayed, and the sound of music and golden beer carried on until dawn.
Henri was leaning against one of the long tables, a cup of his own brew in hand, when a ripple of quiet passed through the crowd near one of the main paths. He didn't notice it at first—it wasn't loud, just a subtle shift, the way people stepped aside without even realizing why. Then he saw them.
A man in a plain dark cloak walked past, the hood drawn low. Something about the way he moved caught Henri's attention. It wasn't the same as the elves or vampires, who carried themselves like they owned the ground they walked on. This was different. Quiet, unshakable. Balanced.
Henri straightened a little, narrowing his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. But the hood shadowed everything. No matter how he angled himself, no matter how he moved with the flow of the crowd, the man's features stayed hidden.
He wasn't alone.
Walking with him were three women, and even in a place filled with supernatural beauty, they stood out.
The first was a human girl with straight black hair and clear blue eyes, her expression calm but watchful as she glanced at the food stalls with faint curiosity.
Beside her, another girl—also human, but with twin ponytails so dark they almost shone under the lantern light, her crimson eyes alive with amusement as if everything around her was a game.
And behind them, walking with a measured, careful step, was a third figure: a tall young woman with a silken blindfold covering her eyes. Golden hair cascaded down her back, shining under the light like polished threads.
There was no mistaking it—those three, and the man between them, didn't belong to any ordinary group of festival-goers.
Henri tried again to get closer, weaving through the crowd, but the flow of people kept him at a distance. It wasn't that they pushed him away—it was almost like the air around the cloaked man bent slightly, keeping space around him without effort.
The hood turned slightly as if the man glanced in Henri's direction, and for a split second, Henri felt something he couldn't explain. Like looking at someone who wasn't just strong, but vast. Too vast to measure.
And then, just as quickly, the moment passed. The man and his companions walked on, disappearing into the deeper rows of tents where the lanterns were thickest.
Henri stood there with his untouched drink, frowning slightly.
"…Who was that?" he murmured under his breath.
The music swelled again, and the festival noise returned to normal, but he couldn't shake the feeling that whoever that man was, he hadn't come to the Golden Brew Festival just to drink.
Chapter 472 – A Walk Beneath the Lanterns
Past the rows of golden-lit tents, away from the busiest part of the festival, the night air was softer. The sound of music faded behind them, leaving only the smell of sweet bread and the glow of rice-lanterns strung between wooden poles. Alex walked without hurry, hands in his pockets, while three sets of footsteps followed just slightly behind him.
Hanabi was the first to speak. Her red eyes glanced at him from the side, lips curving in that playful grin of hers. "You know," she said, kicking lightly at a pebble on the path, "it feels like forever since we went out like this. Just you, me, and the others. No training. No house. No interruptions. A real date."
Beside her, Airi nodded softly, her blue eyes shining faintly in the lanternlight. "She's right. We're always at home, or in the middle of something… big. When was the last time we just walked together?"
Alex glanced over at them, his usual calm expression never shifting, but there was a quiet flicker in his eyes that told them he heard every word.
The third girl, silent until now, tilted her head slightly. Iris's blindfold caught the light as she adjusted it with graceful fingers. Her golden hair brushed over her shoulders as she said, almost gently, "Even I was thinking the same. You spoil us, Alex, but this… this is different. I missed this."
Hanabi leaned forward, grinning wider. "So! Tonight, no fighting, no heavy stuff, no experiments. Just us. And you're going to spoil us with food, drinks, and maybe something sweet at the end. Deal?"
Alex let out a small, amused breath. "I didn't say no."
Hanabi laughed softly and looped her arm around his without hesitation. Airi stayed closer on the other side, quieter but no less present, and Iris walked just behind, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder as if she could see through the sound of his steps.
While they walked, a second voice came—not out loud, but in his head.
Ciel's voice, gentle and warm:
"It's good to see them ask for this. You don't take these slow moments often enough, Alex."
Morgan's voice followed, cool and teasing as always:
"They're right. You can build fortresses in the sky, but a simple walk with the ones who love you? That's harder for you than erasing a god."
And finally, Reyne's voice came through, softer, with that faint dragon pride in her tone:
"If you want, we can join you. One thought, and we'll step out of your hand. But… maybe you should enjoy this evening with just them first. They've been waiting."
Alex answered them in his mind, a calm ripple of thought. I know. Tonight is for them. The three of you can watch if you like.
Ciel laughed lightly.
"We're always watching."
Morgan's voice turned sly.
"And listening. Careful with what you say, darling."
He didn't respond, only walked on, and in the next row of lanterns the glow caught on Hanabi's twin-tails as she pulled him forward toward a stall.
"Come on!" she said. "First stop: something to eat. I'm starving!"
Airi smiled quietly, brushing her hand lightly against his as they followed, while Iris whispered to herself, a hint of anticipation in her tone.
"It really has been too long."
And under the lanterns, the four of them stepped forward, their footsteps fading into the lively hum of the night.
They stopped at a food booth where smoke drifted lazily from an iron grill, carrying the scent of sizzling meat and sweet golden-rice dumplings. Wooden benches had been set up beside the booth, and the four of them sat down as the owner—a middle‑aged man with sleeves rolled up and a bright festival smile—served steaming bowls to each of them.
Hanabi picked up her chopsticks first. "Not bad," she said after the first bite, "it's light, kind of sweet."
Airi ate slowly, thoughtful as always, and gave a small nod. "It's good."
Iris tilted her head, tasting carefully even though she couldn't see. "The texture is nice. But…"
Hanabi grinned as she swallowed. "But Alex's food is still better."
The words came out louder than she intended.
The booth owner, standing just behind the counter, paused and glanced at them. "Better, huh?"
Airi, a little embarrassed, tried to soften it. "We didn't mean it as an insult. It really is good. It's just… we're used to his cooking."
The man crossed his arms and looked at Alex, who was quietly eating without a word. "So, you're the one they're talking about?"
Alex looked up, calm as always.
"I've been making food for thirty years," the man said with a grin that was half amused, half challenged. "You saying you can outcook me?"
Hanabi's eyes lit up instantly, mischief blazing. "Oh, he can. You'll regret challenging him!"
The owner leaned forward on the counter, grinning wider. "Then prove it. My grill, my ingredients. Let's see what you can do, stranger. If your food is better, I'll serve it to everyone here. If not, you wash dishes for me tonight."
Hanabi clapped her hands. "Do it! Please do it!"
Iris, smiling behind her blindfold, added softly, "It might be fun, Alex. It has been a long time since you cooked outside our home."
Even Airi's eyes had a faint, expectant shine.
Alex put down his chopsticks, sighed very lightly, and stood up. "Fine," he said simply.
The booth owner gestured toward the grill. "Then show me."
The crowd around the food booth, already lively from the festival, started to gather closer, curious to see who would win this sudden, unplanned challenge.
Alex stepped behind the counter without a word. The crowd that had gathered expected a showy performance, maybe some kind of flashy technique, but the man in the dark hood didn't rush. He looked over the neatly stacked ingredients with a calm eye, picked up only a few, and set them down in front of him.
There was no wasted motion. Every slice of the knife was quiet, clean, as if the blade already knew where to go. The booth owner stood beside him, arms folded, planning to see what kind of tricks this stranger would use.
But there were no tricks.
Alex's hands moved with a patience that drew the eye. He didn't use any complicated tools, just the simple knives, a single pan, and the heat of the grill. Where the booth owner worked with practiced efficiency, Alex worked with an unhurried certainty.
Airi and Iris watched quietly from the bench, while Hanabi leaned forward, her chin on her hands, her eyes sparkling like a child watching a magician.
As the vegetables hit the pan, a faint aroma began to drift upward, subtle at first, then richer, deeper, and warmer. By the time he added the meat and the rice, the fragrance that spread out across the booth was different from anything anyone there had smelled before. It wasn't strong or overpowering; it was balanced, clean, like the air in the mountains after rain.
The crowd began to quiet down.
The booth owner, arms still crossed, slowly uncrossed them. His nose twitched as he glanced sideways at the pan, at the way every grain of rice separated perfectly under the heat, every piece of meat browning evenly as if the fire itself listened to the man's hands.
He realized something in that moment—this wasn't just skill. It was harmony.
Alex plated the food with the same care. No flourish. No decoration. Just a bowl of golden rice and grilled meat, steam rising from it like a promise.
He slid the plate forward. "Taste," he said simply.
The booth owner hesitated, then took a spoonful.
The first bite stopped him cold.
There was nothing fancy about it, but the balance of flavor was perfect. The salt, the sweetness of the vegetables, the depth of the grilled meat, and the faint fragrance of the rice—it all came together so cleanly that it felt effortless.
He ate a second bite. And a third.
The crowd waited, holding its breath.
When he finally lowered the spoon, he didn't speak right away. Instead, he looked at Alex with something rare in his eyes: respect.
"I see," he said at last, his voice low. "You don't just cook. You… listen to the food itself."
Alex said nothing, only began to wipe the counter, leaving it as clean as it was when he came.
The booth owner laughed softly, shaking his head. "I've been cooking for thirty years, and I've never seen hands like that. You're on another level."
He turned to the crowd. "I'll admit it! He won. There's nothing I can say after tasting that. But… I learned something just by watching."
The people who had gathered began to cheer, not just for the taste, but for the way the contest ended—with no anger, only admiration.
The booth owner gave a deep bow. "Thank you. I'll remember this. Next time we meet, I'll be better."
Hanabi grinned and whispered to Airi, "See? I told you. Even without trying, he makes everyone speechless."
Airi smiled quietly, and Iris, behind her blindfold, whispered, "That's why it's dangerous to challenge him in anything."
Alex simply returned to his seat, as if nothing had happened at all.
The booth owner, meanwhile, went back behind his grill, but he never stopped thinking about the calm figure he had just faced. And from that moment on, he cooked with new eyes, replaying every motion he had seen.
Chapter 473 – Golden Glasses
When the last bite of Alex's dish was gone, the girls sat for a while in that soft quiet that only good food could create. Hanabi stretched with a long, satisfied sigh, leaning back on the bench. "Ughhh… I swear, no one in the world can top your cooking. Even this place's best food feels like a snack next to that."
Airi set her chopsticks down neatly, brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear. "I almost feel bad for saying it out loud. That man was kind, and his food was good. But yours… it has a warmth nothing else has."
Iris wiped the corner of her lips with the edge of her sleeve, her blindfold catching the glow of the festival lanterns. "I agree. It's like every time you cook, even the air tastes cleaner."
Hanabi tapped the empty plate with her chopsticks. "Well! Food's done. What next? We've got a festival around us and no excuses. Drinks. We're going to drink."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Beer?"
"Exactly!" Hanabi said, already pulling him to his feet by the wrist. "Didn't you see all those golden brew stands on the way here? We're at the biggest beer festival of the year. We can't leave without trying."
Airi laughed softly, holding his other hand as she stood. "We'll take it slow. It's been a while since we just enjoyed things like this."
Iris tilted her head slightly in the direction of the music, listening to the faint clinking of mugs in the distance. "I heard some of the stalls here make drinks with Aten's rice. Even without seeing them, I can feel the crowd's mood. This will be interesting."
The four of them left the booth behind, blending into the flow of festival-goers. The sound of musicians playing flutes and strings floated in from a nearby stage, mixed with the smell of sweet bread and honeyed snacks.
They came to an open square where a circle of beer stands surrounded long communal tables. Each stand had a wooden sign carved with bold letters: Golden Sunrise, Mana Honey Draft, Dragon's Breath Brew, Elven Bloom Ale.
Everywhere people were raising mugs that glowed faintly under the lantern light.
Hanabi pointed straight ahead. "There! That one says 'Mana Honey Draft.' Sounds sweet. Let's start with that!"
The line moved quickly, and soon the booth owner—a cheerful woman with flour on her sleeves—placed four frosty mugs on the counter.
Even before they touched them, the drinks smelled different. Sweet, like wildflowers, with the faintest undertone of Aten's rice.
Hanabi grabbed hers first, eyes sparkling. "Cheers!"
The three mugs met with a soft clink—Airi's delicate and precise, Iris's guided by touch, and Hanabi's with enough enthusiasm to splash foam on the table.
Alex picked up his last, taking a small sip. The taste was light, smooth, and strangely clean. A faint warmth traveled down to his chest, not from alcohol, but from the subtle mana infused in the grain.
Hanabi's eyes widened after her first swallow. "Oh… oh wow! This isn't bad at all!"
Airi's lips curved slightly. "It's sweet. Smooth, too."
Iris tilted her head after tasting, smiling faintly. "There's energy in it. A bit clumsy in how it's balanced, but it's pleasant."
Hanabi grinned, leaning closer to Alex. "What do you think? Better than what you'd make?"
Alex took another sip and shrugged lightly. "Not bad. But there's room to grow."
That one calm sentence made the woman at the booth blink, then burst into laughter, unaware she was talking to someone who could probably outdo every brewer here if he chose.
With their mugs in hand, the four of them moved to an empty table under the lanterns.
Hanabi already pointed toward another stand. "Next one, after this? The one that sparkles. Look at that, it even lights up when they pour it!"
After they finished their honey draft, the four of them followed the line of lanterns deeper into the square. The crowd thickened here; the air was full of the scent of yeast and golden grains, mugs raised high as people shouted to each other across the long wooden tables. Toward the far corner stood a booth marked with a simple wooden sign carved by hand:
Valois – Golden Harmony Brew
Unlike the others with bright banners and loud music, this booth was quieter. The smell that drifted from its kegs was clean, rich, and perfectly balanced, so much that it seemed to cut through all the other scents around them.
Hanabi pointed. "That one smells really good. Let's try it!"
Airi nodded. "It feels… refined."
Iris tilted her head slightly, a faint smile curving her lips. "There's a calmness in the way it was brewed. Someone careful made it."
Alex said nothing, but followed as they stepped into the short line.
Behind the counter was a broad‑shouldered man with rolled-up sleeves, a bit older than most of the brewers in the square. His movements behind the barrels were methodical, almost like a ritual, as he poured each mug without spilling a drop.
Henri Valois.
He looked up as he handed a mug to the next person in line—and froze.
The hood.
That same hood from earlier in the festival.
He blinked, trying to see past it, but just like before, the shadow hid everything.
"It's you…" he murmured under his breath.
The group stepped forward, and Henri's gaze flickered to the three women with him. Black hair and blue eyes. Black twintails and red eyes. A blindfold and golden hair. Exactly as before.
"You again," Henri said quietly, his voice steady though his fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the barrel.
Hanabi tilted her head, surprised. "Huh? Have we met?"
Henri gave a small shake of his head. "Not exactly. Just… saw you earlier." Then, clearing his throat, he gestured to the taps. "This is Golden Harmony. It's made with Aten rice, brewed with a technique I learned over a year ago. Try it."
He poured four mugs with the same steady hands, the liquid pale gold and almost glowing as the foam rose just to the edge. He slid them across the counter.
Hanabi grinned and grabbed hers without hesitation. "Cheers again!"
The three mugs touched with a soft clink, and Alex, with his hood still shadowing his face, took a slow sip.
The taste was deep. Balanced. Like a memory of grain, earth, and sunlight all at once.
Hanabi's eyes widened. "Oh wow… this one's way better than the last one!"
Airi smiled gently. "The balance is perfect. You can taste the care in it."
Iris tilted her head, savoring the aftertaste. "This one is different. It feels… honest. The brewer is here in every drop."
Henri watched Alex silently. He wanted to ask. Wanted to know who this hooded man was. But instead, he asked the simplest question.
"…What do you think?"
Alex lowered the mug. His answer was calm, quiet, but not dismissive.
"It's good," he said. "Balanced. You've walked a long road to make it this way."
Henri blinked, caught off guard by the choice of words. Somehow, in that simple sentence, he felt seen—as though this stranger knew exactly how much work had gone into it.
The hood turned slightly, and for the briefest moment Henri thought he saw a faint glimmer of black eyes under the shadow. Then Alex set the mug down and pushed it slightly forward.
"Keep going," Alex said. "You'll make something even better."
And before Henri could respond, Hanabi pulled at Alex's arm. "Come on, there's more to try!"
As they disappeared back into the lantern-lit crowd, Henri stood frozen behind his booth, staring at the mug they had left half full, the words echoing in his head.
"Keep going…"
After leaving Henri's booth and finishing the last of their drinks, they strolled further into the heart of the festival. The crowd grew thicker here, and the air was loud with laughter, clinking mugs, and street musicians hammering out tunes on strings and drums.
Hanabi stopped mid-step. "…Wait, what are those shirts?"
Ahead of them, a group of festival-goers walked by, all wearing bright yellow shirts with a huge golden sun printed on the chest. In the middle of the sun was an eye symbol, drawn as if watching everyone.
Alex raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing.
Airi tilted her head. "Is that supposed to be…?"
Then another group came from the opposite direction wearing the same shirt, except this one had a full drawing instead of just the sun and the eye.
Hanabi burst out laughing. "Pfft! No way—look at that!"
The drawing on their shirts showed a man entirely wrapped in black bandages, only the rough lines of his jaw visible. Over him was a yellow hooded robe, huge and loose, covering everything but his wrapped face. The figure stood with one hand raised toward a stylized sunburst behind him.
Across the bottom of the shirt, in big bold letters, it said:
"The God Aten – We Believe!"
Alex stopped. For a long second, he simply stared at them.
Hanabi was practically doubled over now. "Hahaha! Look at your face! It's literally you but, like… like some edgy superhero!"
Airi pressed her fingers to her lips, trying not to laugh but failing as a quiet giggle escaped. "It… it's more accurate than I thought it would be."
Even Iris, serene as she always seemed, tilted her head toward the voices of the shirt sellers and murmured softly, "They actually made an idol out of you, Alex. And it's very literal."
People in the crowd were buying them by the handful. There were hoodies, shirts, even yellow scarves with the same sun and eye motif.
Hanabi wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "I swear, if they find out the hooded man they saw earlier is actually Aten, half this festival is going to faint!"
One of the shirt vendors spotted Alex's group and hurried forward with a bright grin. "Hey, hey! You four! Want to wear the blessing of the great Aten? First-timers get a discount!"
Alex glanced at him, his face calm as ever under the hood. "No."
Hanabi jumped in before the vendor could walk away. "Wait, wait, hold on! How much for that hoodie with the bandage guy on it?"
The vendor held it up proudly. "This one? Exclusive design. Ten coins. Makes you feel like Aten is watching over you!"
Hanabi smirked and elbowed Alex. "You are going to wear one of these. It suits you perfectly."
Airi murmured under her breath, still hiding a smile. "It would be very… ironic."
The vendor, clearly thinking he had made a sale, added eagerly, "And hey, if you meet Aten someday, he might even sign it for you!"
Alex, very slowly, turned his head toward the man. The vendor froze, caught by the calm black eyes visible just under the shadow of the hood.
"…No," Alex said again, flat as stone.
Hanabi burst out laughing all over again, dragging Airi and Iris away with her as Alex calmly walked past, leaving the stunned vendor behind.
Hanabi whispered between giggles, "I'm buying three of them later. One for me, one for Airi, one for Iris. We're going to sleep in matching Aten pajamas!"
Iris tilted her blindfolded face toward Alex and said with absolute composure, "I think I would wear it proudly."
Alex didn't respond.
Hanabi grinned. "Look at him! He's pretending he can't hear us."
And so, surrounded by a crowd wearing stylized drawings of his hidden self, the hooded man and the three women disappeared back into the flow of the golden festival.
Chapter 474 – Gods at the Golden Festival
The night grew livelier as the lanterns burned brighter. Music rolled across the square like waves, and the sound of mugs clinking in laughter echoed through the valley. Near the center, the festival-goers suddenly parted as if an invisible wind had pushed through. Two very different men stepped into the light.
One was huge—broad shoulders, braided red‑gold hair and beard, a hammer strapped across his back that looked too heavy for anyone else to carry. He grinned broadly as soon as he smelled the beer. Thor didn't bother with a hood or disguise; he came as he was, full of booming energy.
Beside him was a man of a completely different nature. Dark curls framed a handsome, mischievous face. His steps were smooth, his robe loose, and even though his presence was calm, every eye turned toward him. Dionysus.
Thor inhaled deeply, slapped his big hand on Dionysus's back, and laughed. "This! This is a good place! I can smell it already—beer, music, and mortals who know how to enjoy themselves!"
Dionysus smiled faintly. "Of course. It's been too long since I've seen a mortal festival that still has a soul. Come, Thor, no trouble this time. Let us just drink."
The crowd whispered in awe. It wasn't every day that gods showed up to drink among them. Some people stepped back respectfully; others pushed forward, excited.
Neither of them cared about the stares. They headed straight for the nearest beer tent, Thor pointing at the largest barrel. "That one! Two mugs, full to the brim!"
The brewer behind the counter scrambled to obey. The mugs that were handed over were almost as large as buckets.
They toasted with a deep clang, and Thor took a long drink, slamming the mug down hard enough to rattle the table. "Ha! Mortal brew, but strong!"
Dionysus drank more slowly, savoring it. "Better than I expected. There is passion here."
They moved from booth to booth, drawing laughter and cheers wherever they went, challenging anyone brave enough to outdrink them.
Neither of them noticed, at first, the hooded man and his three companions sitting at a table near the edge of the square. Hanabi noticed them first. She blinked, then poked Airi in the side, whispering, "Uh… Airi. Look over there. That's—Thor, right? And… Dionysus?"
Airi glanced over calmly. "Yes. It looks like they're just here to enjoy themselves."
Iris tilted her head toward the sound of the booming voice. "So that's what a Norse god sounds like up close."
Hanabi grinned. "This festival just got a lot more fun."
Alex didn't even turn his head. He sipped his beer quietly, hood shadowing his expression, content to let the gods enjoy themselves.
As the evening went on, Thor and Dionysus never came closer to their table. They didn't need to. The two gods were there for beer and laughter, and the festival embraced them like old friends.
For the rest of the night, divine and mortal alike shared the same air, mugs lifted high under the golden lanterns.
The square had turned into a sea of golden light. Lanterns swayed above as the music flowed, blending flutes, drums, and the hum of dozens of voices singing along to festival songs. People sat shoulder to shoulder on the long wooden benches, mugs raised, plates covered with skewers, bread, dumplings, and golden-rice cakes.
Even the night breeze carried a warmth to it, heavy with the smell of food and the faint sweetness of Aten rice brewing in barrels.
At one table, a group of dwarves was already deep into a drinking contest, their thick arms slamming mugs on the table so hard that foam splashed across the boards. On another bench, an elf and a human clinked glasses and argued about whether an Aten beer tasted better with fruit or honey. Children ran through the gaps between tables, chasing each other with wooden toy swords, their parents calling after them with laughter.
Thor's booming voice rose above the noise. "Another barrel! This one's gone!" He slapped a hand on the table, nearly toppling the mugs of those sitting nearby. The brewer rushed to refill it while the crowd laughed, some joining in the toast.
Dionysus sat beside him, calmer but with a faint gleam in his eyes, enjoying the atmosphere more than the drink. He watched the mortals and supernatural beings mingle with a quiet satisfaction.
Not far away, at the edge of the benches, Alex and the three women sat in their own small corner. Hanabi was in high spirits after her second mug, leaning against Alex's shoulder as she watched the chaos with a wide grin.
"I love this," she said happily. "No fighting. Just food, drinks, and people smiling. It's like… for one night the whole world isn't so complicated."
Airi nodded softly, her fingers curled gently around her mug. "It's rare to see everyone like this, together."
Iris tilted her face slightly, listening to the voices. "The sounds of joy are clearer than music," she said quietly, as if speaking only to herself.
At another table nearby, someone began to play a stringed instrument, slow and soft, and soon others joined in, creating a melody that wound its way through the chatter. The song wasn't planned—it simply happened, born from the moment.
Mugs were lifted. More food came from the nearby stalls.
For a few hours, the world outside the festival disappeared, leaving only the laughter, the golden glow, and the comfort of good company.
This chapter is still ongoing.
A loud, cheerful voice echoed across the square, cutting through the music and laughter.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Gods and mortals! Tonight, we will host the Golden Festival Cooking Competition!"
Every table fell into a buzz of excited chatter. Even Thor paused mid-swig and Dionysus tilted his head, interested.
Hanabi, who had been lounging comfortably against Alex's shoulder, sat up instantly. "Did you hear that?" Her red eyes gleamed like a predator spotting prey. "Cooking competition! Alex, you HAVE to join."
Alex glanced at her, expression as calm as always. "I already cooked once tonight."
"That was a challenge," Hanabi said, waving her hand as if to erase his excuse. "This is official! A crowd, judges, prizes—the whole thing!" She grabbed his sleeve and shook it lightly. "Come on, think about it! You'll crush everyone, and I want to see their faces when they taste your food."
Airi tried to keep her composure, but a small smile curved at her lips. "It might be fun. It's rare for you to do something in public."
"I think I'd like to watch," Iris added softly, her blindfolded face turned toward him. "It's rare to hear you cook for strangers."
From the square, the announcer continued: "All challengers, come to the main stage in fifteen minutes! Ingredients will be provided. Cook anything you want. Impress the crowd and the judges!"
Hanabi's grin widened. "See? Perfect timing! You can't say no. Come on, please?"
People all around were standing, talking excitedly, some of them clearly planning to sign up.
Thor slammed his mug on the table so hard it made the nearby benches jump. "HA! A cooking contest! Mortals know how to entertain!" He looked at Dionysus with a wide grin. "Think we'll see anything worth eating?"
Dionysus smirked faintly. "Perhaps. It might be more interesting than the beer."
Hanabi leaned closer to Alex. "Look! Even they're excited. Are you really going to just sit here and drink?"
The lanterns swayed as the crowd grew louder, a wave of anticipation spreading through the square.
Chapter 475 – The Crowd Will Decide
The square that only moments ago had been filled with music and laughter was now alive with excitement of a different kind. Large wooden tables were cleared from the center and moved to the sides, and a group of festival staff began assembling long cooking counters under the lanterns. Buckets of fresh ingredients, pots, and cutting boards were laid out in neat rows.
The announcer's voice boomed again, this time magically amplified so everyone could hear.
"Welcome, one and all, to the Golden Festival Cooking Showdown! Tonight, you will see skill, creativity, and—most importantly—taste!"
A cheer erupted from the crowd.
He raised a hand to calm them down and continued.
"The rules are simple. Each contestant will cook their best dish. When the time is up, our staff will collect the dishes, mark them with a color unique to each contestant, and distribute them to all of you!"
He gestured to the crowd, smiling wide. "You are the judges! Each plate has a different color. If you like a dish, you will place a token in the box of that color at the judging table. When the tokens are counted, the winner will be chosen!"
Another roar of approval surged through the audience.
Hanabi bounced on her feet, clutching Alex's sleeve. "This is going to be amazing! Everyone will taste your food!"
Airi nodded, more quietly but no less firm. "This means even the gods here will have a chance to judge."
Iris, listening to the announcer's instructions, smiled faintly. "A very fair method. No bias."
Thor laughed from across the square, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "Hah! A battle judged by the stomach! I like this!" Dionysus chuckled softly beside him, clearly entertained.
Staff members handed out wooden tokens to the crowd—each person got three, which they could drop into whichever color box corresponded to their favorite dish after tasting.
Meanwhile, contestants were lining up to register. Some were young cooks, others older masters of their towns, even a few elves and dwarves who had brought their own small cooking kits. The smell of ambition filled the air.
"Contestants, to your stations!" the announcer called. "When the gong sounds, you will have one hour to prepare your dish. Use anything you like from the ingredients provided or anything you brought with you!"
The crowd shifted to give the contestants space as the cooking counters filled. Staff members placed empty colored boxes with tall flags at one side of the square for voting.
Hanabi turned toward Alex with a grin that looked far too proud of itself. "See? This is perfect! You can't say no now. Everyone will get to eat your cooking, not just a few!"
When the announcer called for final registrations, Hanabi pushed Alex forward with both hands before he could argue.
"Go, go! Don't even think about sneaking out of this!" she whispered, grinning like she'd already won.
Alex sighed lightly but didn't resist. He walked to one of the last empty counters, the hood of his cloak still shadowing his face.
Around him, the other contestants glanced his way, sizing him up. Most saw nothing but a tall man in an ordinary cloak. No custom knives. No fancy tools. No aura that screamed "master chef." Just a hooded figure who looked like he had wandered in by mistake.
"Another hobbyist," someone muttered.
"Probably just here to have fun," another whispered.
Nobody paid him any more attention.
The announcer raised a hand, and a hush fell over the square.
"Chefs ready?"
The contestants nodded.
"Then—begin!"
The gong rang, and the square exploded with sound.
Knives hit cutting boards in a fast rhythm. Ingredients were tossed into pans. Flames leapt up from the stoves as elves added herbs, dwarves handled giant chunks of meat, and humans prepared soups and sauces with frantic energy.
Thor leaned forward on his bench, eyes gleaming. "Now this! This is a battle!"
Dionysus smiled, sipping his drink. "Watch carefully. Some of these mortals might surprise even us."
At Alex's station, there was no rush.
He opened the wooden crate of ingredients without hurry, his hand moving through the vegetables, rice, spices, and meats with a calm patience. While the others threw ingredients into pans and mixed seasonings quickly, he simply set aside a few things: a bundle of green vegetables, a small cut of meat, a few grains, and a clay jar of honey.
No one noticed at first. He moved so quietly that it was almost as if the crowd forgot he was there.
Then, he began.
His knife didn't flash like lightning. It didn't need to. Every cut was even, precise, and smooth, so silent that the sound of his blade against the cutting board seemed to have its own rhythm.
Unlike the chaos around him, there was no wasted motion. He cooked like he breathed.
Steam rose gently from his pan as the scent of herbs and slow-seared meat began to drift outward. The aroma wasn't strong at first—so subtle most people didn't notice—but for those closest, it made them pause without realizing why.
Hanabi stood with her arms crossed, grinning proudly as she watched. "There it is. That's what I wanted to see."
Airi, as calm as always, said quietly, "The others are cooking to impress. He's just cooking."
Iris tilted her head, listening to the steady sound of his knife. "That's why no one can match him."
And so, while the festival square buzzed with energy, one hooded man worked in silence, letting the smell of his food slowly weave through the night air.
The final gong rang, loud and clear, cutting through the smoke and chatter.
"TIME!" the announcer shouted. "Step away from your stations!"
All at once the sound of knives, sizzling pans, and boiling pots came to a halt. Staff members rushed in, moving quickly as they gathered each contestant's finished dishes. Each was placed onto plates marked with a bright color unique to that chef, then carried out to the long distribution tables set up for the crowd.
From the benches and standing rows, the people cheered and lined up, tokens in hand, ready to taste.
The staff moved like clockwork, and soon the air was thick with the scent of all kinds of food: spicy grilled meats, stews rich with wild herbs, delicate pastries glazed with honey, even smoked fish and elven fruit dishes. The variety was overwhelming.
And then came the dish on deep golden plates—the one that belonged to the hooded man.
Alex's dish looked simple. Too simple.
On the plate lay a square wooden tray, and on it, three things:
• A shallow bowl of rice — golden grains glistening with a faint honey sheen, each grain separate, steaming gently.
• Thin slices of slow-seared meat, marinated so evenly that the edges had a perfect char, laid diagonally on the rice.
• A side of pickled green vegetables, finely cut, bright and crisp, arranged with deliberate balance to cut the richness.
No garnish. No complicated decorations. Just balance.
But the scent that came from it made the people in line stop. The honey and herbs carried a warmth that went straight to the stomach.
"It smells like… comfort," one man whispered as he took a plate.
Another woman, lifting the bowl, blinked. "It's light but… I can already taste it just from the steam."
The first bites silenced everyone who tried it.
The rice was soft but not sticky, with a sweetness that paired perfectly with the savory meat. The char on the meat gave it depth, and the pickled greens cleansed the mouth just as the richness started to build.
It was food designed not for show, but for beer. Every bite made people want to take another drink, and every drink made them want another bite.
In minutes, the crowd shifted. People who had been walking from table to table now crowded around the golden-plate table, eating quickly and looking for more.
Tokens began to fall, one after another, into the box marked with the golden color.
Thor, halfway through his plate, slammed a mug down with a roar of delight. "HA! THIS! This is food worthy of beer! Finally!"
Dionysus took his time, but when he set his empty plate aside, there was a faint smile on his lips. "Balanced, patient… a flavor that doesn't try to impress, but simply is."
At the back of the crowd, Henri found himself holding one of the golden plates. The first taste froze him in place. He knew this flavor—he had seen those hands before.
"That hooded man…" he whispered.
From the benches, Hanabi, Airi, and Iris watched the tokens piling into the golden box as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Hanabi grinned ear to ear. "Well, looks like the festival's over. Everyone else should just go home!"
The competition wasn't over yet, but the golden box was already overflowing with tokens.