Sunny's hair surged forth like a silken tsunami, weaving through the cabin vents and windows to form an intricate, colossal net atop the Den Shark. The strands gleamed with a tensile strength that defied their delicate appearance.
"Perfect!" Kaka exclaimed, his eyes tracking the drifting behemoths. "Now, we just need to catch one!"
The Den Shark, under Sunny's precise telekinetic guidance, adjusted its course, rising slightly to intercept the flight path of one of the mammoth dandelion seeds. The seed's fluffy parasol blotted out the sun, casting a soft, ethereal shadow over them.
"Now, Toriko!" Sunny called out, his voice strained with concentration.
Toriko didn't need to be told twice. He braced himself against the deceleration, kicked open the top hatch, and launched himself upward. The tenfold gravity tried to claw him back, but the explosive power in his legs was more than a match for it. He shot up like a human cannonball, directly into the downy forest of the dandelion's fluff.
Thwump.
He landed softly, the fluff sinking beneath him like the world's most luxurious mattress. It was surprisingly firm yet yielding, and it smelled of clean, sun-warmed earth. "Whoa! This is great!" he yelled down.
Sunny's hair-net retracted, releasing the Den Shark. With deft movements, his hair then extended upward, weaving secure anchor lines around the central stem of the dandelion seed and creating a stable platform. One by one, Coco, Zebra, and finally Kaka—clutching the sandy leek flower with white-knuckled care—ascended the hair-lines to join Toriko.
The Den Shark, its purpose served for now, was recalled by Sunny into a compact capsule. They were committed to this new, floating vessel.
As the last of them settled onto the vast, fluffy surface, the million-ton dandelion seed caught a stronger updraft. With a gentle, monumental lurch, their ascent began in earnest. They rose above the plain, leaving the Emerald Ant territory far below, and sailed smoothly on the wind currents directly toward the looming, oppressive wall of the Hundred G Mountains.
The silence up here was different—not the vacuum-like stillness of the plateau, but a peaceful, windy hush broken only by the sigh of air through the countless feathery filaments. The view was breathtaking. The entirety of the Seventh Continent's bizarre ecology sprawled beneath them, a living tapestry of impossible lifeforms.
Zebra lay back, crossing his arms behind his head. "Not bad. This beats walking."
Coco sat cross-legged, his eyes closed again, but a slight frown marred his features. "The gravitational gradients ahead are... chaotic. The wind patterns will become turbulent as we approach the mountain's influence. This ride will not be smooth for long."
Kaka nodded, securing the flowerpot in a nest of hair Sunny had woven for it. "The dandelion will take us to the lower slopes. From there, the real climb begins. And the flower's scent will be our only protection against the inhabitants of the foothills."
Toriko stood at the edge of their fluffy raft, looking toward the ever-nearing mountains. The gravity haze was now clearly visible, a shimmering, distorting curtain hanging over the jagged peaks. Somewhere in that crushing silence was the Ape King. And the [PAIR]. And, if King's cryptic actions were any indication, a fate waiting to be fulfilled.
He felt a familiar thrill, the hunter's anticipation mixed with the gourmand's craving. The sandy leek flower had given them a stark lesson in the continent's hidden dangers. But it had also given them passage. Now, they rode the wind toward the greatest test yet.
"Just a little further," Toriko murmured, his Gourmet Cells humming in sync with the vast, living seed carrying them. "We're almost at the main course."
At the foot of Pot Mountain, Garou—dubbed 'Wolf' by Saitama—was a study in controlled, irritated efficiency. A massive, multi-limbed creature with the capture level of a small mountain lay beside him, already humanely dispatched. With precise, blade-like chops of his hands, he was portioning the meat into perfect, paper-thin slices. Each slice, as it fell, was caught by a gust of wind—Cricket's doing—and flash-frozen in mid-air before being neatly stacked into towering piles on giant leaves.
"Stop yelling, baldy!" Garou shot back, not looking up from his work. "Precision takes time! You want this chewy or what?" Despite his grumbling, his movements were a blur, the meat piling up at an astonishing rate.
Cricket, floating nearby, used his mastery of air currents to gently ferry the stacked meat slices up the mountainside, laying them out on a smooth, heated rock near the volcano's rim that served as their table. "Patience is a virtue, Saitama-sensei! The foundation of any great meal is proper preparation!"
Saitama watched the organized chaos below, his stomach growling in agreement with the enticing aroma from the lava soup. "Hurry uuup!"
Back on the drifting dandelion-Tram Shark, the vista of Pot Mountain came into view in the distance.
"Look! Over there!" Coco pointed, his keen eyes spotting the distinctive plume of savory steam, not noxious gas, rising from a distant peak. "That aroma profile... it's incredibly complex and rich. It's not a geological formation; it's a soup!"
Toriko's nose twitched violently. Even across this distance, carried by the strange winds of the Gourmet World, the scent made his mouth flood with saliva. "That smell... it's majestic! Like a whole world of umami concentrated in one place!"
Kaka squinted, recognition dawning. "Pot Mountain... Clear Soup Lava. So the legends are true. And it seems someone has already started cooking." A strange sense of momentum washed over him. Everywhere they turned, the world was being engaged, utilized, cooked by these outsiders.
Zebra's stomach let out a roar that momentarily rivaled the distant mountain's rumble. "Tch! Now I'm really hungry! Can't this fluffy thing go any faster?!"
As if on cue, the wind pushing their dandelion craft shifted, carrying them not just towards the oppressive gravity of the Hundred G Mountains, but on a gentle curve that offered a clearer view of Pot Mountain's culinary spectacle. It was a moment of surreal contrast: the serene, deadly ascent towards one mythical ingredient, and the boisterous, communal preparation of another right next door.
Toriko grinned, the twin pulls of adventure and appetite warring within him. One mission at a time. First, the [PAIR]. Then... maybe they'd see what was left in that pot.
"Don't get distracted," he said, mostly to himself, turning his gaze back to the looming, silent mountains ahead. "Our dinner reservation's that way." He thumbed towards the Hundred G range. "That," he nodded towards Pot Mountain, "is just... takeout."