Dr. Aris Thorne's verdict is more than a score; it's a paradigm shift.
It echoes through the silent refectory, amplified by Zadie's and Milo's broadcasts, and instantly becomes the new gospel of Aurum Academy. Provost Holt sits frozen at the judge's table, his face a horrifying rictus of defeat. He came to this battle armed with the cold, hard facts of science, only to watch the world's leading food scientist declare his enemy a prophet of a new biological age.
He has not just lost. He has been rendered irrelevant.
Chef Maillard, who has been quietly observing the entire exchange, finally picks up his scoring pad. He does not even taste the dish. He doesn't need to. He has tasted the effect it has had on the room, on the very foundation of the academy. He writes a single, sprawling number across all three categories.
∞
The symbol for infinity. The ultimate academic mic drop.
The competition is effectively over. The Leftover League has not just won the day; they have won the war of philosophy that Holt started.
But the Audit is not finished. There is one final day. One final challenge.
The campus-wide chime, which once felt so ominous, now sounds like a herald's trumpet. A final message from Holt appears. It is stark, stripped of all its previous condescending flourish. It is the last, desperate move of a defeated king.
FINAL AUDIT CHALLENGE: THE FOUNDER'S FEAST.
Prepare a three-course meal for the entire student body. The theme is 'The Future of Aurum.' Total waste from the feast will be the final, deciding factor of the Zero Remnant Audit.
Lucien reads the directive, a slow smile spreading across his face. "He's given up. This isn't a trap. It's a formality. He wants this to be over as quickly and quietly as possible."
"Don't be so sure," Nyra counters, wiping the single, happy tear from her cheek, her mind already shifting back to strategy. "Feeding the entire school is a massive logistical challenge. The sheer volume of prep guarantees waste unless you're… perfect. It's one last chance for us to slip up. To get arrogant."
They return to their kitchen. Their pantry is a beautiful, chaotic mix: the last of Talia's glorious misfit vegetables, and at the center of it all, the Relic. The reborn culture, having seeded the Myco-Protein Nugget, is now more vibrant than ever, the golden light within it pulsing with a steady, confident rhythm.
"What do we make?" Lucien asks. "What is 'The Future of Aurum'?"
Nyra looks at the perfect, sterile knife sets that line the academy's kitchens. She looks at the textbooks that teach the ruthless geometry of the tourné. She looks at the entire system that brands a lumpy carrot a failure.
"The future is… not that," she says with quiet conviction.
Caelan has been silent. He walks to the window and looks out across the moonlit campus. He sees the gleaming, high-tech arenas, the immaculate lawns, the pristine architecture. It is an academy dedicated to the worship of a flawless ideal. But that's not what he'll remember.
He'll remember the quiet comfort of the Family Meal bolognese. He'll remember the look of stunned wonder on Lucien's face as he tasted true warmth for the first time. He'll remember the revolutionary tang of the Symbiotic Pancakes. He'll remember the proud, happy tear on Nyra's face.
The future of Aurum, he realizes, is not a dish. It's a feeling.
"We don't need a fancy menu," Caelan says, turning back to his friends. "We don't need complicated techniques. We've already made our statement about what an ingredient can be. Now, we have to make a statement about what a kitchen can be."
His idea is simple. Radical. And beautiful.
They will not create a perfectly composed, three-course meal. They will create an interactive feast. A living banquet.
The first course will be The Garden of Misfits. They will take all their remaining quirky vegetables, clean them, and serve them raw, rustic, and whole, with a side of their now-famous potato skin soil and a variety of dips made from their Golden Spore culture. It will be a celebration of the raw, untamed beauty of their ingredients.
The second course will be The Hearth of Community. They will take all their remaining starches—the lumpy potatoes, the heritage grains Talia gave them—and cook a massive, communal pot of the most delicious, comforting congee the academy has ever tasted, enriched with the deep umami of their Relic.
And the final course… the finale will be Caelan's masterpiece. He calls it The Zero Bowl.
It will be a single, perfect soup. The broth will be made from simmering all the vegetable scraps they generate from the feast's prep in real time. Every student will be invited to bring their own bowl up to the pass, and Caelan himself will ladle the soup. And the final garnish? The sediment from the bottom of the Relic. The last remnants of the Blue Raspberry Blast, now rendered inert, transformed by the Golden Spore from a poison into a simple, mineral-rich nutrient. It is the final act of redemption. Closing the loop. Using even the memory of their greatest enemy as nourishment.
The day of the Founder's Feast arrives. The Grand Refectory is packed. The energy is not of a competition, but of a festival.
The students don't just eat. They participate. They marvel at the gnarled shapes of the raw carrots. They come back for second and third helpings of the soul-warming congee. They line up, bowl in hand, for Caelan's soup.
Provost Holt stands at the back of the hall, a ghost at his own party, watching his entire worldview be dismantled and eaten with joyous, happy sounds.
The feast ends. The students are full and happy. The kitchens of The Leftover League are… not empty. They are full of the one thing Holt never anticipated.
Students are bringing them leftovers.