Once every month, the core members met for a gathering in the Blackwood mansion courtyard. Initially, it was meant to ensure they stayed in touch during peaceful times, a way to maintain bonds forged in blood and fire.

But that changed the moment Selena brought food.

What began as simple dishes—herbed mana-rice, roasted spectral-bison strips glazed with fire-essence honey—turned into something much more sinister.

The moment everyone tasted it, the entire gathering fell silent in bliss.

Selric lowered his fork slowly, eyes distant. Aurelia covered her mouth. Even Draven, who complained about everything, sat motionless.

“This is…” Thomas started.

“Incredible,” Elara finished, though her expression tightened.

Everyone praised her cooking, and that was their downfall.

Selena beamed as she accepted the compliments with gracious nods. Adrian caught the dangerous gleam in her eyes, the same look she wore when perfecting a new runic formation.

The next month, Selena arrived with an enormous grin and a new dish: Void-Salted Phoenix Broth with Floating Ember Pearls.

The serving bowl hovered between them, its contents shimmering with spatial distortions. Small orbs of condensed fire essence bobbed on the surface like miniature suns.

Max inhaled sharply, “It smells… powerful. But what is even Void-Salt?”

Draven whispered, leaning, “Who knows? She just comes up with weird names.”

“I can hear you,” Selena called sweetly.

Draven straightened immediately, “I said it sounds delicious.”

Then Elara stepped forward, not wanting to be outdone by her rival in literally everything, and declared she would cook as well.

Adrian recognized that particular set to his mother’s jaw. He’d seen it before, right before she obliterated entire armies.

She, too, brought her dish: Thunder Salad, which crackled ominously.

Lettuce leaves sparked with residual lightning essence. The dressing contained what appeared to be liquefied storm clouds. Every piece vibrated at a frequency that made Adrian’s teeth ache.

Seeing all these, even Aurelia got tempted.

The ancient Celestial had watched the exchange with growing interest, her competitive nature honed over millennia of being one of the Twelve, refusing to let her stand aside.

Aurelia, then, presented Flame-Tear Soufflé, which expanded until it burst.

The pastry rose like a miniature star going supernova, flames licking outward in controlled arcs before the entire thing collapsed into itself with a sound like distant thunder.

The men exchanged glances of pure dread.

Ilyas mouthed silently to Adrian, Help us.

Adrian shook his head fractionally, I can’t.

Thus, three warlord-level cultivators, who could flatten mountains, began competing in cooking, and it was catastrophic.

Adrian, strongest in the galaxy now, found himself in the most dangerous battlefield he had experienced to date, forced to swallow whatever eldritch creation the three women placed before him while maintaining a perfectly serene expression.

The first test arrived when all three dishes were presented simultaneously. Selena gestured to her void-touched broth. Elara indicated the crackling salad. Aurelia smiled at her still-smoldering soufflé.

“Adrian,” all three said in perfect unison.

“You first,” Aurelia added.

Adrian felt the weight of their combined attention. He took the first bite, Selena’s broth. Every man watched in horror as Adrian’s eyes widened, not from flavor but from sheer mental shock.

Selena leaned in, starlight eyes intense, “How is it?”

Adrian smiled, the smile of a man walking on a sword edge, “It’s… unforgettable.”

Technically true. He would never forget the experience of his taste buds experiencing temporal displacement.

Elara pushed her Thunder Salad forward, “Try mine.”

The electricity conducted through his fork before he even touched the food. Adrian took a bite, and his hair stood on end. Somewhere in the distance, actual thunder rumbled.

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“Magnificent,” Adrian managed, voice only slightly strained.

“Mine next,” Aurelia insisted.

The soufflé had reformed itself into a golden dome. Adrian cut into it. The interior glowed. He ate, and somehow his mana, which he spent some time ago, actually recovered from the pure essence content.

“Exquisite,” he said, wondering if this counted as cultivation.

But despite the horror, none of the men dared display discomfort, not even a flinch.

They smiled, they ate, and they survived barely.

Thomas bit into the Thunder Salad and felt his entire nervous system light up. He grinned through it, “Wonderful texture, dear.”

Max consumed the Void Broth and experienced his consciousness splitting across multiple spatial layers, “Mmm,” he hummed, “very… dimensional.”

Draven tried the soufflé and felt his fire essence resonate violently with the dish, “Absolutely divine,” he croaked.

In between all these, Kaelith sat near Adrian. She disbanded Duskbane and joined the Origin Empire with her entire clan and her people. Even the Volkrith Emperor Zerathul allowed her without any problems.

She thought Adrian was her good friend; she believed in Origin Empire, but now, staring at the food in front of her, she started to regret her decision.

She bit into the Thunder Salad as she murmured to Adrian, “I thought you were my good friend! But you betrayed me!”

Adrian chuckled, “What? No! This is not betrayal! True friends never suffer alone!”

She hit his leg as she took another bite, “You Bastard!”

…

By the fourth gathering, the men considered this event a near-death trial.

Adrian found himself strategizing before each gathering, calculating optimal bite sizes, preparing his mana circulation to neutralize unexpected essence reactions, and even practicing his facial expressions.

“We need a plan,” Gary muttered during a private meeting in Adrian’s study.

“What kind of plan?” Thomas asked warily.

“Survival,” Gary said flatly.

By the sixth, they formed a secret alliance.

Gary whispered during a gathering, while the women discussed ingredient sources, “We have to act carefully. If they ever learn we’re planning to stop the cooking war, we’re dead.”

“Not planning to stop it,” Adrian corrected quietly, “just… survive it.”

“Same thing,” Kael groaned, still recovering from last month’s Gravity-Compressed Fruit Tart that had briefly created a micro black hole in his stomach.

And in the midst of this, even Mira and Selena’s disciple, Liora, were dragged into helping the three competitive cultivator-chefs.

Mira arrived at one gathering carrying seventeen different essence-infused spices, looking exhausted. “Master Selena needed rare ingredients,” she explained to her father Dorian, who patted her shoulder sympathetically.

Liora, meanwhile, had been tasked with maintaining temperature control formations while Selena cooked, a job that required split-second precision.

“If I let the heat drop even one degree, she notices,” Liora confided to Adrian during a break.

“You’re braver than most warriors I know,” Adrian told her seriously.

By the second year, the food became almost edible.

The dishes still contained enough concentrated mana to power starships, but at least they no longer caused temporary spatial displacement.

Selena’s Nebula Noodles actually tasted pleasant, even though these were not true nebula, they were now just named anything they felt good…

Elara’s Storm-Kissed Dumplings only sparked occasionally.

By the third, surprisingly good.

Adrian realized this during a gathering when he took a bite of Aurelia’s new creation, Starlight Honey Cake, and actually wanted a second piece, not out of obligation but genuine desire.

And one night, after tasting Aurelia’s new mana-infused stew, Max froze, whispering slowly to Sentinel, “Wait. That was… delicious.”

Sentinel dropped his fork, “Has the apocalypse come?”

“I heard that,” Aurelia said, though she was smiling.

Then Aurelia lifted her chin, triumphant, “Told you I’d master it.”

Selena narrowed her eyes, “One victory doesn’t mean—”

“It was very good,” Elara admitted grudgingly.

The three women stared at each other. Then, slowly, they began to laugh.

The men nodded obediently; they didn’t dare say otherwise.

Though privately, Adrian had to admit the food was genuinely excellent now. The three had somehow turned their competitive disaster into actual culinary mastery.

And so the tradition continued, each gathering a mixture of camaraderie and mild fear.

But the fear became fond anticipation. The dread transformed into excitement. What began as survival became something they all looked forward to, proof that even the strongest beings in the galaxy could find joy in simple competition, in shared meals, in being together without battle looming.

…

In the end, peace spread through the Origin Empire. Life blossomed, worlds healed.

Scholars now debated philosophy instead of battle tactics. Artists created beauty instead of weapons.

The Earth, once the weakest world, became the symbolic heart of the Origin Empire, a shining example of rebirth.

Delegations from across the galaxy visited, marveling at humanity’s rapid transformation. The planet that had nearly fallen to a single demon now hosted Stellar Lords who walked its streets as tourists, admiring architecture that blended pre-awakening nostalgia with post-awakening innovation.

Adrian, who had carried the fate of his clan, his people, and eventually his entire galaxy upon his shoulders, finally lived days where he woke without dread.

No more visions of apocalyptic futures. No more enemies gathering in the dark. No more impossible battles where one mistake meant extinction.

He smiled more than he bled.

His hands, once constantly stained with enemy essence, now held game controllers and cooking utensils. His days filled with laughter instead of screams, with family dinners instead of war councils.

He belonged here, not just as an emperor or anomaly or savior, but simply as Adrian Blackwood.

Son, Friend, Brother-in-arms.

Adrian would occasionally sit atop the mansion roof, gazing up at the stars. The same stars that had watched him fight, kill, ascend. The same galaxy that had tried to crush him beneath impossible weight. Now they just looked peaceful, distant points of light holding no threat.

But deep inside, he knew danger still existed. He knew there were beings in the universe far beyond anything the Milky Way had ever encountered. He knew the path the Guardian Spirit had spoken of would eventually open.

But until then, this was their time.

A time to live, to enjoy everything they had fought so desperately to preserve.

Below, he heard laughter from the courtyard. Probably another cooking experiment. Probably another friendly argument between Kai and Seraphina. Probably Max complaining about being woken up.

And for the first time in countless eras, the galaxy embraced peace not as a dream… but as reality.

The Origin Empire stood not through fear or domination, but through genuine unity. Knowledge flowed freely. Strength grew collectively. Hope replaced despair.

Adrian closed his eyes, feeling the evening breeze, and smiled.

Whatever came next, they would face it together.

But tonight, there was only peace.

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