“Are you two hungry?” Mom asked.

  “I had an early breakfast, so yeah, I could eat now,” Hana admitted.

  “Same,” I added. “But are there even restaurants open on Sunday?”

  “I know a place,” Mom nodded.

  A few streets later, she pulled into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant called Lotta Alimentare.

  “Just a minute,” she said, typing a quick text. A few seconds later, her phone pinged with a reply. “Okay, they’ll let us in.”

  We got out of the car and waited at the front door. The restaurant looked completely empty, and the sign clearly said Closed. Then, the “Employees Only” door opened, and out came a man who looked like someone had tried to sculpt a human out of pizza dough and then just… stopped halfway.

  He was enormous. Imagine Jabba the Hutt, but with legs instead of a slug tail. His torso was a near-perfect sphere, his face had more chins than a Chinese phone book, and his skin was pale and completely hairless, not even eyebrows or lashes.

  “Hello, guests. Welcome,” he said in a deep, oddly monotone voice. It sounded like a voice synthesizer trying to imitate friendliness.

  As we passed by him, I caught a whiff of his scent; unmistakably, pizza dough.

  “Follow me,” he said, turning around and leading us through the back door he came from.

  He guided us down a staircase that opened into another restaurant, one much larger than the one above. This one was almost full of people. Paranormals, obviously.

  I didn’t even have to ask. At one of the tables, a familiar girl with deer antlers was laughing over a drink.

  “Oh, Stagora’s here,” Hana said, spotting her former opponent from Friday.

  “Yeah, this place is popular,” Mom said. “Looks like a few others from Friday are here too. Go say hi to your fellow fighters. We’ve got a few minutes before the food’s ready.”

  “Why not?” Hana shrugged, and we strode toward the table.

  “Hi, guys!” she greeted them.

  “Hey,” I added, waving awkwardly.

  “Oh, hello,” Stagora nodded.

  She and the others at the table took turns introducing themselves. Two of them I already remembered: Armstrong and Flint.

  The third was a new face: a very short, skinny boy with pointy ears. I could barely believe it. A boy even shorter than me, and not a little kid.

  Beside Stagora sat another girl, Tatiana. At first glance, her random mix of tattoos (objects, animals, weird abstract shapes) didn’t seem that strange... until I noticed that they were moving. The shapes floated across her skin like fish swimming in an aquarium.

  “Why don’t you grab a couple of chairs and join us?” Armstrong suggested.

  “What about those two?” Hana asked, pointing at a pair of empty seats beside Tatiana.

  “They’re for the twins,” Stagora said. “They just went to the bathroom. They should be back any sec... oh, here they are.” She waved toward two approaching girls.

  I didn’t need to ask who they were related to. The resemblance to Alexa and Aletta was obvious because they were also conjoined twins, fused at the sides exactly like their mother and aunt.

  “Tünde,” introduced one.

  “Titanilla,” continued the other.

  They looked more like fitness influencers than fighters; curvy, toned, and fancy. Their matching skintight outfits didn’t leave much to the imagination. If those leggings had been skin-colored, someone might have called the cops for public nudity. Their contrasting hairstyles (platinum blonde for Tünde and jet-black for Titanilla) made them look like a literal yin-yang duo.

  “You two must be Alexa’s daughters,” I guessed as we sat down.

  They gasped in unison. “How did you know that?”

  “Lucky guess,” I said with a smirk. I didn’t add that the churchgoer Aletta’s daughters definitely wouldn’t be walking around dressed like that.

  “I didn’t know this kind of condition could be hereditary,” Hana said curiously.

  “In paranormals, pretty much anything can be hereditary,” Titanilla explained with a shrug.

  Conversation flowed from there; mostly them talking while I listened.

  “So, I heard all this paranormal stuff is new to you,” Armstrong said, turning to me.

  “Yeah,” I nodded.

  “My parents kept it secret until I was ten,” Armstrong said. “Then my powers awakened, and they couldn’t hide it anymore.”

  “I could turn parts of my body into stone even as a toddler,” Flint added proudly. “This was never a secret to me.”

  “Same here,” said Grill, the short boy. “I was born looking like this.”

  He leaned forward, showing off his pointy ears and the delicate, translucent, bug-like wings folded on his back.

  “You’re a fairy?” I asked.

  “Kitchen Fairy, to be precise,” he said with a smug grin.

  “Oh, so you’re like… better chefs than regular fairies?” Hana teased.

  “Obviously,” Grill said with mock dignity. “Just ask my mom; she owns this restaurant. And she made the staff.”

  “The staff?” I repeated, glancing around. The waiters were all eerily identical; big, round, pale, bald men trudging between tables.

  Grill grinned. “Did you notice the smell when one of them brought you down here?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “They smelled like pizza dough.”

  “That’s because they are pizza dough,” he explained. “They’re dough golems.”

  “That’s awesome!” Hana laughed. “But… doesn’t that count as wasting food?”

  “Nah,” Grill shook his head. “They’re enchanted to stay clean and edible.”

  ***

  We chatted for a few more minutes until I noticed Mom heading toward our table.

  “Hi, everyone,” she greeted the group.

  “Hello!” added a second, much higher-pitched voice. I looked down and saw a very short woman (barely the size of a kid) standing beside her. She had short pixie-cut hair in the same chestnut shade as Grill’s, along with the same pointy ears and bug wings.

  “I’m Oven,” she introduced herself cheerfully. “Owner of the place, and Grill’s mother.”

  We all gave polite greetings in return.

  “Nice to meet my son’s friends,” she smiled. “I just wanted to let you know the food will be ready soon, so make sure you warm up before we serve.” With that cryptic warning, she turned and fluttered back toward the kitchen.

  “Wait… what did she mean by warm up?” I asked.

  “Oh, you didn’t know?” Armstrong looked at me with a grin. “We have to fight first.”

  “Sounds fun,” Hana said immediately, pushing back her chair. “Who’s first to face me?”

  “No, not each other,” Grill said, shaking his head. “We fight the food.”

  “The food?” both of us echoed.

  “Yup,” Grill nodded. “That’s this restaurant’s specialty. You have to earn your meal.”

  Mom stepped in. “Exactly. You have to fight your food to deserve it. Look.” She pointed at a nearby table, where a little boy was dueling a scorpion-shaped golem made of fries. The child laughed gleefully as he jabbed at it with his fork.

  “That’s actually adorable,” Hana said.

  “Do you guys want to join us?” Grill asked. “There’ll be enough for everyone; plenty to fight and to eat.”

  “I’m in,” Hana said eagerly.

  “I’ll sit this one out,” Mom said, stepping aside. “You kids can have fun. I already ordered something for myself.”

  “What about you, Max?” Stagora asked with a grin.

  “Uh… sure,” I said. “I guess I’ll give it a try.”

  "Good," she nodded. "Then start warming up."

  "And where are we supposed to fight our food?" Hana asked, stretching her arms.

  "Right here, in the restaurant," Grill replied. "The whole place turns into the arena."

  "It won’t bother the other guests?" I asked.

  "Nah, that’s part of the fun," he answered. "And don’t worry about eating afterward, the spell I mentioned earlier keeps them tasty, clean, and edible, even after they’ve been smashed."

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  We did a quick warm-up with the others, though I had no clue what exactly we were preparing for.

  Then a shout came from the kitchen: "The appetizer for Table Seven is ready!"

  I looked down; our table had a sticker with a big, bold 7 on it.

  The kitchen’s double doors swung open, and Oven strutted out, tiny but commanding.

  "Ahem!" she cleared her throat theatrically. "The appetizer is... Garlic Bread Gremlins, Salad Serpents, and Mozzarella Slimes! Bon appétit!"

  As she stepped aside, a small army of edible creatures poured from the kitchen.

  The gremlins were bite-sized dough humanoids, oozing garlic butter as they waddled forward, their crusts glistening in the light.

  The salad serpents slithered behind them; long, twisting coils of lettuce and cucumber, squeaking and snapping like hungry eels.

  And the mozzarella slimes came last: pale, quivering blobs that stretched and reformed with wet, cheesy sounds.

  I didn’t mind the bread or salad ones... but I really hoped I wouldn’t have to eat those gooey things after fighting them.

  Grill was the first to move. He shot into the air, wings humming sharply. One of the salad serpents launched up to meet him, but Grill spun mid-flight and sliced it clean in half with a flying judo kick.

  Stagora bowed, her antlers nearly scraping the floor. Then they began to twist and elongate like living branches. With a quick flick of her head, the sharpened tips skewered two garlic bread gremlins at once.

  Another serpent leaped from a nearby table and coiled tightly around Armstrong’s neck. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed the creature, and his fingers morphed into five tiny, muscular hands, each gripping a section of the snake. The serpent squirmed violently, but his finger-hands clenched so hard, they cut the creature into neat, wriggling chunks.

  Tatiana’s tattoos began to shift again, swirling across her skin. This time they moved with purpose, aligning on her palms. An ice cube tattoo appeared on one, then in the other as well. She reached for two mozzarella slimes, grabbing them by their gooey heads. They both froze solid instantly.

  “Mozzarella ice cream, anyone?” she said with a grin.

  Flint joined in, bringing his rock-hardened hands down like cleavers. One swift karate chop, and a gremlin split cleanly and vertically in two.

  The conjoined twins didn’t fall behind either.

  Tünde pointed at a bread gremlin, forming a pistol with her fingers. “Pew!” she said cheerfully, and a thin ray of light burst from her fingertip, shooting straight through the gremlin’s heart.

  Titanilla spread her fingers wide. Her nails grew into black, curved claws, and when she slashed the air, five dark crescents appeared, slicing through a gremlin and a salad serpent at once.

  Meanwhile, Hana (with her Oni face) tore through her enemies. She ripped apart gremlins and serpents with her hands and teeth, even slurping up a mozzarella slime straight from the floor without fighting it. She definitely was hungry.

  I went for something smaller, one gremlin and one cheese blob. Using my limited telekinesis, I lifted the slime and dunked the gremlin’s head right into it.

  “Uh, can I eat them while they’re… alive?” I asked Grill.

  “They’re not alive,” he said, munching on a snake’s head. “They’re basically magic robots. Dig in.”

  I shrugged and bit in. I swear, I heard the gremlin whisper bon appétit as I chewed. And wow… it actually tasted amazing.

  After that, I helped finish off the rest of the appetizer monsters, though I avoided eating too much. I didn’t want to end up puking mid-battle.

  “Hey, girls,” Hana said, looking at the twins once we finished fighting. “What kind of power was that? Didn’t look like your mom’s or aunt’s Tulpa stuff.”

  “Yeah, we can’t make Tulpas like they can,” Tünde admitted.

  “But we inherited some elemental abilities from our dad’s side,” Titanilla added.

  “I’ve got photokinesis,” Tünde revealed.

  “And I’ve got umbrakinesis,” said Titanilla with a smirk.

  “Wait, light and shadow? Total opposites?” Hana raised a brow.

  “Yep,” Tünde said. “This phenomenon happens sometimes when twins inherit elemental powers. Even more so with conjoined ones.”

  “I see you finished the appetizers,” Oven said, poking her head out from the kitchen.

  “Yes, we’re ready for the next course, Mom,” Grill replied.

  “Alright then,” she nodded. “The next dish is… Onion Soup Specter! Bon appétit.”

  The kitchen doors opened, and the new golem floated out. The specter looked like a ghost made entirely of soup, translucent with chunks of onion, cheese, and bread lazily drifting through its liquid body. It hovered a few centimeters above the floor, sloshing faintly as it moved.

  Flint and Armstrong immediately charged in, trying to subdue it. Flint’s rocky punches splashed harmlessly through the creature, and Armstrong’s grabs did little more than stir the soup. The specter retaliated with a violent splash, flinging both boys backward and pinning them against the wall in a wave of hot broth.

  “Hey, Tati,” Stagora said, elbowing Tatiana, “this one’s yours. You did order that soup anyway. Just don’t freeze this one, I don’t want cold leftovers.”

  “Got it,” Tatiana grinned. A red STOP sign tattoo appeared on the back of her left hand. She sprinted forward and drove her fist straight into the center of the specter.

  The soup ghost froze midair; not iced over, just completely immobile.

  “This will hold it for maybe fifteen, twenty minutes,” she said, shaking her hand. “So let’s eat fast.”

  We all grabbed bowls and spoons and started scooping pieces of the soup monster into bowls. I only had one for safety.

  Armstrong, on the other hand, didn’t even bother with his spoon. He just scooped straight from the specter with his bowl and chugged it like a drink. By the time I finished, half the ghost was gone.

  “Careful with that,” Grill said between slurps. “Eat too fast and you’ll throw up when the next one shows up.”

  “Don’t worry,” Armstrong replied, wiping his mouth. “I need the extra mass. Helps my power when I grow new arms. Just give me a few minutes, my body will absorb it.”

  We had a few minutes to rest after finishing the soup.

  “So, you guys got any training plans for next week?” Hana asked.

  “Yeah, of course,” Grill nodded. “What about you two?”

  “Max’s mom has a full schedule planned for him,” Hana said.

  “She wants me to catch up to the others,” I added. “I just hope I don’t have to fight Günter again.”

  Tatiana leaned forward. “By the way, do you two count as one person?” she asked the twins. “I mean, you’ve got one body, two minds, and totally different powers, but you can’t separate, right?”

  “We figured that out,” Titanilla said.

  “If one of us fights, the other just follows the movement,” Tünde explained. “She can defend herself, but doesn’t interfere.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Stagora said suddenly. “What’s everyone’s goal?”

  “What do you mean?” Hana asked.

  “Like a dream or target,” Stagora clarified. “Beating someone specific, winning a tournament, that kind of thing.”

  “I definitely want to beat someone big,” Grill said. “And by big, I mean literally. Imagine someone my size taking down a giant. That’d be awesome.”

  “I don’t really have any grand goals,” Flint admitted. “Right now, I just wanna have fun fights.”

  “We want to win gold medals,” Tünde said proudly.

  “Our mom and aunt already have some,” Titanilla added. “We don’t want to fall behind them. Plus, they’d look amazing on us.” She chuckled.

  “There’s one person I really want to beat,” Hana said, her tone turning serious for a moment.

  “I just want to be the best in my family,” Tatiana said. “At least among my generation. Living in your family members' shadow sucks.”

  “Ditto,” Armstrong agreed. “There are a few relatives I’d love to fight personally, just to prove I can hold my own.”

  “What about you, Max?” Stagora asked.

  “Uh… I don’t really have any big goals in the paranormal world yet,” I said. “I mean, I didn’t even know it existed three days ago. But ever since I was a kid, I’ve had one goal: I want to beat my mom.”

  “Why her?” She asked.

  “I’ve seen tons of fighters in martial arts; every single one lost at least once. But never Mom. Not once. So I thought if I could beat her, it’d mean something.”

  “That’s not gonna be easy,” Hana said.

  “Yeah, I kinda realized that over the last few days,” I admitted with a sigh. “What about you, Stagora?”

  “There’s this tournament I want to win,” she said. “The Battle Beast Bloodsport.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of that one,” Flint said. “It’s only for people with animal-based abilities, right?”

  “Exactly,” Stagora nodded. “It’s brutal, and mostly dominated by predator types. But I want to prove that people like me, with prey-based powers, can stand toe-to-toe with them.”

  ***

  “Are you ready, kids?” Oven asked, peeking out from the kitchen.

  “What do you think, guys?” Grill asked, looking around. Everyone nodded.

  “We’re ready, Mom!” he shouted back.

  “Excellent,” she said, then dramatically swung open the double doors. “Behold! The main course: The Legendary Lasagna Leviathan!”

  Some of the rotund pizza-dough golems began chanting in Latin as Oven flapped her wings to leap into the air, dodging the massive creature that lumbered out of the kitchen.

  The lasagna monster was huge, as if it were built for a giant. Its body was as long and wide as a mattress and at least a meter thick. Four stubby legs supported it, each ending in claws made of melted cheese. A pair of pasta-sheet wings flapped lazily from its back, scattering crumbs and sauce. Its front bore a dragon-like face, complete with gooey cheese fangs and a lolling pasta tongue dripping marinara.

  “Who the hell ordered that?” Stagora asked.

  “Uh... me,” Armstrong admitted. “Thought it would be fun.”

  “I got this,” Tünde said confidently. She and her sister were ready to fight.

  Tünde conjured a glowing bow of light and began firing radiant arrows into the monster’s face. Each shot sank deep into the gooey flesh (one even pierced its eye), but the creature didn’t even react.

  “My turn,” Titanilla said. A black orb appeared between her palms, stretching into a long spear. She hurled it and it skewered the creature’s head, pinning it to the floor, though only for a moment. With a wet, tearing sound, the Lasagna Leviathan wrenched itself free.

  We dove aside as it charged, slamming into our table and flipping it over in a shower of sauce and cutlery.

  “Hey, you wanted fun,” Tünde shouted at Armstrong. “So go have fun fighting this lasagnasshole!”

  “Alright, alright,” he grinned.

  His arms began to stretch and split, branching into thick, muscular limbs until he had a whole net of them. With a battle cry, he leaped at the edible beast, wrapping it in a tangle of limbs as it tried to chew on one of the overturned chairs.

  For a moment, it looked like he had it pinned, but then the monster flexed, its cheesy muscles rippling, and flung him off like a piece of parsley. Armstrong crashed down in front of us, his extra arms retracting into his body as he hit the floor.

  “That’s a main course,” Grill said, brushing sauce off his arm. “One or two people won’t be enough for it.” He picked up a chunk of cheese that had fallen when the monster crashed into our table. “We’ll have to take it down together.” The cheese in his hand melted and reshaped into a small scimitar.

  “And what do we do?” Stagora asked as we dodged another sloppy charge from the lasagna beast.

  Then Grill explained his plan while weaving between lunges of pasta and sauce.

  ***

  We scattered, circling around the Leviathan while Armstrong stayed in the center of the chaos.

  “Come here, Lasagnasshole!” he yelled.

  The monster took the bait and charged him head-on.

  “Now!” Grill shouted.

  Hana and I leaped into action. I grabbed the creature’s left side while Hana tackled the right. Using my tactile telekinesis and her Oni face's strength, we heaved the massive lasagna upward and flipped it onto its back.

  Stagora was already moving, her antlers shot forward, elongating and pinning the monster’s head to the floor. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it was enough.

  Armstrong, Grill, Flint, Tatiana, and the twins charged in.

  Armstrong’s left arm split and expanded into a thick, bladed mass of muscle that he swung down, cleaving through the monster’s rear segment. Melted cheese splattered everywhere.

  Grill’s cheese-forged scimitar sliced clean through the next portion as if cutting warm butter.

  Flint followed with a karate chop, his right hand hardened into solid rock, carving off another chunk.

  A sword tattoo appeared on Tatiana's forearm as she did the same chopping move, and it worked just as sharply, slicing off another piece.

  Finally, Tünde and Titanilla materialized twin swords (one made of light, the other made of shadow) and brought them down in unison. Their blades divided what was left of the monster into neat, steaming slabs.

  “Good job, everyone,” Grill said proudly as the creature finally stopped twitching.

  I looked around. Some of the restaurant’s guests were staring at us with curiosity, while others didn’t even glance up from their own meals, as if a giant lasagna fight was nothing new here.

  “Mom’s spell keeps everything edible for a while, so dig in!” Grill said cheerfully and promptly shoveled an entire plateful into his mouth.

  The rest followed suit, devouring the spoils like it was an eating competition.

  It looked gross. But I didn’t want to be the odd one out, so I grabbed a fork and joined in.

  I’m usually not a big lasagna guy (I’d pick pizza if I have to choose an Italian food), but this? This was incredible. Now I finally understood why Garfield was obsessed. I lost track of how much I ate; it felt like biting into warm cotton candy that just dissolved in my mouth. I kept going, bite after bite, never feeling full.

  Even after everything we ate, there was still a ridiculous amount of lasagna left. To keep it from going to waste, Oven brought out a roll of tinfoil and got to work. With a snap of her fingers, the remaining pieces sprouted tiny, stubby legs and began crawling onto the waiting sheets of foil like obedient pets. Once each piece climbed up, she neatly wrapped them one by one.

  “Looks like everyone gets to take home some leftovers,” she said cheerfully as she handed out the foil-wrapped portions.

  “That was fun to watch,” Mom said, suddenly appearing beside us. I hadn’t even noticed her before. “Do you kids want some dessert?” She held up a large bowl filled with little ice cream golems; each one made of three scoops stacked like a snowman, with gummy eyes and wafer arms.

  ***

  As we left the restaurant, Hana stretched and asked, “So, what’s our next target?” The others followed us out, still carrying their foil parcels.

  “I’ve got one more thing planned for us today,” Mom said.

  “We’ve got plans too,” Armstrong said. “See you later, guys. We’ve gotta go soon. I don’t want to keep Miss Sinclair waiting.”

  “Sinclair?” Mom raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, her daughter invited us to their place,” Armstrong replied.

  Mom smiled slightly. “In that case, no need to say goodbye. We’re headed to the same place.”