A new day arrived. Birds sang their morning hymns, and life began anew. But then, a roar startled the entire city.
Waking from her slumber, Helen stretched her arms while yawning, but then something struck her. Her stuffed stomach let out a growl that sounded like a scene from a battle—an unsettling mix of thunder and the roar of a thousand beasts. It jolted the entire city awake.
Titan rushed into Helen's chambers, sword drawn and a host of magical sigils ready to unleash. "Helen, hold on, I'm coming!" he shouted. But when he flung open the door, instead of the expected danger, he found Helen clutching her stomach as it growled louder and louder by the second.
Dropping his sword and dispelling the sigils, Titan leaped to Helen's side, trying to comfort her. "Helen," he said, his voice filled with panic, "what's wrong? Please answer me." The roar grew louder. She shot him a deadly glare that reminded Titan of the look his Mother Tetelute gave his Father Cyrius when she was angry.
"Don't ask me such stupid questions," her glare intensified. "Get me food now, hurry!" She shoved him out of the room, pushing him away. "What's going on? This has never happened before. Why am I so hungry?" Then a memory struck her: 'And lastly, don't empty their food bank, Helen.' "That's what he meant, but I still don't get it." Her face twisted in discomfort, her hair disheveled, and the roars of her stomach made her appear monstrous.
Titan rushed through the hallway. As he moved, he noticed that everyone still in their rooms was running out in sheer terror. Some tried to get his attention, but he ignored them, frantically dashing to the dining hall. The moment he reached the swinging kitchen doors, he was met by three cooks running out backward, faces pale with dread, clutching their ears to block out the sound. They didn't need to be told the danger; the monstrous sound had already driven them away.
Titan didn't have time for them, and entering he found some already prepared food, and others still in preparation. But to his utmost surprise, there were still people in the kitchen cooking, even though such a loud roar was ringing about. They were the Head Chef and his assistant, the Sous Chef.
"What are you still doing here? Can't you hear?" The sous chef just raised her head for a moment to glance at who walked through, before returning to her work.
"Yassay, who's there?" The head chef called out.
Not even taking her head off the meal she was preparing she answered, "It's Titan Chef."
"Oh Titan boy," looking up for just a second, "why are you here?"
"I'd like to ask the same?" Titan was frantic in his questioning, but was also confused. Everyone he had seen was running from whatever was ongoing, but this looked calm, too calm.
"Can't you see?" The head chef asked. "We're preparing meals, doing our job."
"Don't you hear that?" The roar came again.
"El boy,"
"It's Titan," he cut off the head chef, but he continued.
"El boy, that isn't a sound of danger, but of someone extremely hungry. It's called Body Starvation."
"What's that?" Titan asked with genuine worry and concern in his voice.
"We don't have the luxury for that, aren't you here to get food for that person?"
"Yes, I am."
"Good. Yassay, pick up the pace we've got a mansion to feed." The roar came again, "No, make that ten."
"Yes, Chef."
"And Yassay where's Yassay?"
"He hasn't arrived yet Chef."
"Why?"
"His shift starts in two hours' time, Chef."
"Okay go. Now you," he instantly appeared right before Titan, giving a jump scare. But before he could do anything, the head chef began to examine his body. "Good, good, good. Well-balanced, perfect muscular structure, strong arms and legs. It's great."
"How good are your legs?" Asked the head chef, "How fast are you?"
"Quite fast," Titan answered awkwardly not knowing where this was going.
"Can you make a clone?" The head chef asked again.
"Yes, I can. But only basics."
"I don't mean illusory clone El. I meant tangible ones."
"Yes I can, but I only create two and maintain them for about an hour to two." This statement got Sous Chef Elsie's attention for a moment, causing her hand to stop momentarily before restarting.
"Good, good. Make, create, or whatever term you use. Just produce those clones." Just as he had appeared in an instant right before Titan, he was at the shimmering pan he had left. This gave Titan another scare. As a magical genius, when someone is using magic within his vicinity, Titan would have immediately sensed it. But he sensed nothing from the head chef, meaning he moved purely on physical strength. Titan felt a threat of danger from the head chef, scrambling to create his clones.
The head chef then called out, even with the roar ongoing his voice was carried out. "Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, get here."
At the side hall to the kitchen where only staff uses, five individuals stood guard. Even though they were scared they couldn't leave, for the person they are protecting wasn't even flinching at the roar. The voice came loud and clear amidst the roar. It was their employer, "Johnson, Johnson, Johnson, get here."
One of them spoke, "Macchiato his' calling you."
Macchiato responded immediately, "No not me, I think his' calling Latte."
Latte protested, "Nope, it's not me. I'm sure it's Mocha."
"Guys, guys." Mocha raised his hands to calm everyone. "We don't know whose his' calling, so let's just play a roulette, and the loser goes. Cortado, Macchiato, Latte, and Americano you all in." They all nodded their hands in agreement, but in the end, Mocha lost. "I hate this."
"You can't blame us," Americano responded mockingly, "you always chose the same thing," and she was right.
"You'd better hurry," said Cortado. The call came again, "Chef is calling, you don't want to keep him busy do you?" Her face was all smug.
"I'll get you for this," Mocha said as he ran to the kitchen.
Due to moving at nearly full throttle and having little control over his speed, Mocha stumbled and bumbled across the kitchen floor, sliding all the way and crashing into the wall directly opposite the door. Fortunately or unfortunately, the kitchen had experienced Mocha's disastrous entrance several times. This caused the staff to create a wide gap, leaving nothing in the path from the entrance to the wall.
After the dramatic entrance, none paid any heed except for Titan, who was busy trying to create his clones. But the sudden slideshow caused Titan to lose concentration, which in turn dispersed the half-finished clone.
"Oh, Johnson you're here?" The head chef raised his head only to see Mocha. "Where are the other Johnsons, Johnson?"
"I thought you'd only called for me Chef?"
"Get the others now." Mocha ran out. Raising his hand, the head chef directed his hand at Titan, "and you, focus." This gave Titan another scare, for the hand the head chef raised a very sharp knife was in it. This morning wasn't a peaceful morning for Titan.
Opening the door again the Caffeine Five entered; Titan was almost done creating his clones. But this time he was fully concentrated, knowing his life was on the line.
"You called Chef." They all shouted, the roar becoming a background amidst the ensuing event.
"Johnsons, you're finally. Now you, you, and you," pointing at Mocha, Macchiato, and Americano, "you're on news delivery." Then pointed at the remaining two, "You and you are on service duty with El and his clones. How are the clones coming up, El?"
"I'm done, Chef," Titan responded, fear was prevalent in his voice.
"I'll check on that later." Turning back to the Caffeine Five he continued, "You three Johnsons are to deliver a message with the general content being, 'This is not an attack, this is suffering from Body Starvation.' You," focusing on Mocha, "your delivery is the lord's mansion. You," focusing on Macchiato, "your delivery is the Nevar General Security (NGS). And lastly for you," his attention now on Americano, "your delivery is the Nevric Mercenary Association, and take these with you." He pulled out three letters from who knows where and handed them to them. "What are you still doing here, get lost."
"Yes, Chef," They bolted to their respective sites.
"Yassay, how are they coming up?"
"Fifty sets already ready, Chef."
"Put them to go. Hey El, show me those clones." The clones were shaking in fear. But just as the head chef had moved instantly, he appeared right before the two. "There are a lot of imperfections. For example, this one," focusing on the one standing on the right, "this one is two inches shorter than you, has eight fingers and his hair color is wrong. And this," now his attention drawn to the one on the left, "is six inches taller, has fourteen fingers, and one leg is three inches longer than the other. But they'll do. You on the left, you're on cleaning duty. The rest of you, including you Johnsons, are on service duty, moving in a constant rotational order. Now get the meals to the victim." They all scramble moving the meals up and down to Helen.
Meanwhile, at Catz Play, in the Royal Kitty, muffled sounds permeated the heavily soundproofed rooms, causing Selene and Larile to stare from their sleep after a long night of play.
"That has to be Helen," Selene said growlingly.
"Father Cyrius must have gotten to her," Larile responded.
"So what's the score now?"
"321 for Father Cyrius, an addition of three, and for Helen I don't know what happened to record her score. But her last was 309."
"Forget about it," Selene yawned, "let's get back to sleep."
In Jutus, the realm of Cyrius, the realm was experiencing a little bit of chaos. Cyrius was very happy, showing a devilish smile. "Cyris can you update the score sheet. An addition of two for Helen, making it 311 and an addition of three for me. Serves you right Helen," the devilish smile expanding.
After updating the score sheet Cyris asked his father, "Why do you and big sis Helen always play petty pranks on each other?"
"The first time your big sis Helen and I met, she gave me a sucker punch to my stomach and delivered a nut cracker. Since then, she and I have been stuck in an endless war of petty revenge and pranks."