The number hung in the air like a death sentence.
Six thousand.
For context, the Four Heavenly Kings, even after all their training, all their growth, all their consumption of legendary ingredients, barely registered capture levels in the low thousands. Individually. Combined, they might push into the range of a serious threat to most creatures.
But 6000 wasn't a threat level. It was a statement. A declaration of absolute, immutable dominance.
The Ape King Bambina wasn't just strong. He was a force of nature given flesh and fur and an absolutely terrifying sense of humor.
"Uihahahaha!"
His laughter was the sound of mountains cracking. The sonic pressure alone forced the four Kings to dig their heels into the fractured ground, fighting to stay upright against a force that wasn't even an attack—it was just amusement.
"Six... six thousand?!" Sunny's voice cracked. "That's higher than the Horse King! Higher than any Eight King we have data on!"
Coco's future sight was a screaming maelstrom of red. Every path, every possibility, every desperate calculation ended the same way: pain. Defeat. Oblivion. The only variations were in how long it would take and how much it would hurt.
Zebra, for once, was silent. His ears, attuned to the universe's every vibration, were overwhelmed. Bambina's mere presence was a symphony of destruction, a cacophony of power so dense it drowned out everything else.
But Toriko...
Toriko was smiling.
Not a sane smile. Not a strategic smile. A smile of pure, undiluted appetite.
"Six thousand," he breathed, his eyes blazing. "So this is the peak. This is what it means to be one of the Eight Kings."
The Ape King tilted his head, intrigued. The little snack wasn't running. Wasn't crying. Wasn't even trembling—not in fear, anyway.
"Roar? (You're not scared?)"
Toriko met those crimson eyes. "Terrified," he admitted, his voice steady. "But fear is just hunger in disguise. And right now?" He cracked his neck, the movement agonizingly slow under ten times gravity. "I'm starving."
Bambina's grin widened impossibly further.
"RORORORO! (Oh, I was right! You ARE delicious!)"
He bounced on his haunches, a gesture of pure, childlike glee that somehow made him even more terrifying.
"Roaar! (Okay, little chef! Show me your recipe! Show me how you plan to COOK a KING!)"
He raised one massive hand. The air itself seemed to thicken, to cower.
And then he brought it down.
Not at them. Beside them.
The impact was cataclysmic. A shockwave of pure force erupted from the point of impact, sending the four Heavenly Kings tumbling like leaves in a hurricane. The ground split open in a chasm hundreds of meters long. Boulders the size of houses were launched into the thin, gravity-warped sky.
When the dust settled, Bambina was still grinning, still bouncing, still utterly, incomprehensibly playful.
"Roa~ (Tag! You're it!)"
Toriko picked himself up from the rubble, his body screaming, his Gourmet Cells already beginning to adapt, to learn.
He looked at his companions—battered, shaken, but alive. He looked at the impossible, grinning god before him. He looked at the distant, shimmering canopy of the First Cry Tree, where star-like [PAIR] glowed in silent witness.
And he understood.
This wasn't a battle he could win.
But it wasn't about winning.
It was about enduring. About growing. About taking the impossible pressure of a 6000-level king and using it to forge himself into something capable of standing on that branch and harvesting the fruit that could resurrect the dead.
"Everyone," he said, his voice carrying over the ringing in their ears. "Don't try to win. Try to survive. And while we survive..." He grinned, blood trickling from a cut on his brow. "Let's see if we can make this king work up an appetite."
Bambina's eyes sparkled with delight.
The game was on.
The purplish-black liquid bubbled and coalesced, rising from the ground like a living shadow. Within seconds, three figures materialized from the ooze—Toriko, Coco, and Zebra, whole and unharmed, their expressions grim but very much alive.
"Sunny," Coco's voice was calm, but his eyes held a flicker of relief, "did you really think we'd let our guard down against an opponent like this?"
Sunny's legs finally gave way completely. He collapsed to his knees, tears streaming freely now—not of grief, but of overwhelming, hysterical relief. "You... you bastards... You could have warned me!"
"Couldn't," Toriko said, his eyes never leaving the spot where the Ape King had stood. "The poison puppets need absolute realism to fool an Eight King's senses. If you'd known, your reaction would have been off. The Monkey King would have noticed."
Zebra's head, which had so convincingly rolled across the ground, was now firmly reattached—not that it had ever truly been separated. "Tch. That thing's fast. If we hadn't prepared for instant annihilation the moment we saw him, we'd really be dead."
Bambina, who had reappeared on a boulder some distance away, was staring at the scene with an expression of profound, delighted confusion. He looked at the spot where he'd torn apart what he thought were his playthings. He looked at the very much alive snacks now standing before him.
He sniffed the air. The scent of death was real. The scent of life was real. Both existed simultaneously.
"Roar...?"
He scratched his head, genuinely puzzled.
Coco allowed himself the faintest smile. "My poison puppets aren't just visual copies. They're biochemical replicas—flesh, blood, even the scent of death. For a few crucial seconds, even an Eight King's senses can be deceived."
"Emphasis on 'a few,'" Zebra growled. "He'll figure it out. And then he'll be annoyed."
Toriko cracked his knuckles. The ten times gravity still pressed down on them, but something had shifted. They'd bought themselves a moment. A single, precious moment of uncertainty in the mind of an apex predator.
And in this world, a moment was all a chef needed.
"Sunny," Toriko said, his voice firm, "you with us?"
Sunny wiped his face with the back of his hand, his hair already coiling into defensive and offensive formations. His expression hardened, the vulnerability replaced by cold, focused resolve. "With you. And next time someone fakes their death without telling me, I'm using my hair to give them a real reason to scream."
"Deal," Toriko grinned.
Bambina finally seemed to reach a conclusion. His puzzled expression melted away, replaced by something new—not anger, not frustration, but respect. Genuine, delighted respect.
"Roar~ (Clever snacks. Very clever. You tricked the king. Do you know how long it's been since anyone tricked the king?)"
He hopped down from his boulder, landing with a ground-shaking thump. He approached them slowly, deliberately, his massive form casting a shadow that blotted out the sun.
"Roaar. (Too long. Far too long. This is FUN.)"
He stopped a few meters away, close enough that they could feel the heat radiating from his scarred body, could smell the ancient, wild musk of a being who had ruled this continent since before human civilization existed.
"Roar roar roar. (Okay. New game. You clever snacks get a head start. Run. Climb. Hide. Do whatever you need to do.)"
He raised one massive hand, pointing not at them, but past them—toward the impossible heights of the First Cry Tree, where the star-like [PAIR] glittered in the thin air.
"Roa~ (You want the shiny fruits up there, right? Everyone does. So here's the game: You reach the top. You get the fruit. You survive. That's the goal.)"
His grin returned, wider than ever.
"RORORO! (And I get to chase you! Catch you! Maybe eat you! Maybe not! Depends on how tasty you are when I catch you!)"
He slapped his knee, delighted with his own generosity.
Toriko looked at his companions. They were battered, exhausted, operating at a fraction of their strength under the crushing gravity. And now they were being offered a head start in a race up a tens-of-thousands-meter tree against a 6000-level king who could teleport.
It was insane.
It was impossible.
It was exactly the kind of challenge that made life worth living.
Toriko grinned. "You heard the king. We run. We climb. We survive." He looked at his friends—his family. "And when we reach the top, we take that fruit, and we show this monkey what real cooking looks like."
Sunny's hair began to weave into climbing harnesses. Zebra's throat rumbled with subsonic planning. Coco's eyes glowed, mapping every possible route, every branch, every danger.
Bambina watched them prepare, his crimson eyes sparkling with childlike anticipation.
"Roar. (Ready, little snacks?)"
Toriko took a deep breath, feeling the weight of ten gravities, the burn of his Gourmet Cells, the impossible odds.
"Ready."
The chase was on.