Chapter 10: Call Me Tariq Al Khazna!

Chapter 10:

Call Me Tariq Al Khazna!

November 21st, 2024 (April 24th Revamp)

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“By the way, Tariq. Why do we keep running into Disposition users? We’re not even looking for trouble right now,” Harith asked, genuinely puzzled.

Tariq sighed, his expression a mix of annoyance and acceptance.

“Harith… Disposition users can sense one another. If you have a Disposition, you’ll attract others who do too. But that question… it’s actually part of the story I’m about to tell you.”

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Five Years Ago — Tariq’s Old Home

Tariq was in the kitchen, hard at work. Flour dusted his cheeks, and sweat ran down his brow as he stirred a pot with precision.

(Tomorrow’s the big day… A baking competition. The prize? Loads of money. If I win, I can finally upgrade my kitchen—or even buy a new house!)

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, exhaling deeply.

“I’ve been busting my ass for months. This competition is mine.”

Tariq wore dark grey chef’s attire, complete with a matching hat. Focused, calm, and determined.

Ring ring. Ring ring!

The sudden sound broke his concentration. He carefully set aside a half-finished cake and picked up the phone.

“Late at night… it can only be Gateau.”

He answered, his voice cautious.

Gateau: “Still working on your ‘big’ cooking competition?”

Suddenly, Tariq’s thoughts screeched to a halt.

(Wait… Baking?! Did he just say BAKING competition?!)

His eyes widened. He slammed the wooden spoon onto the counter and forced a sheepish smile through the phone.

“Y-yeah! Of course… baking, right?”

Gateau: “Prepare to lose. I’m the best baker in town. You’re just a wannabe cook with big dreams and small skills.”

On the other end, Gateau smirked. He was a young man with dark skin and curly black hair, dressed in a shiny beige suit with a matching tie. Stylish, smug, and infuriating.

Tariq quickly hung up and placed the phone back in its holder.

“N-no… H-he… how could he?!”

A beat of silence.

Pfft…

He wiped away fake tears.

“This guy’s always been like that. We met at another cooking competition—he beat me, but I came second. Not again.”

His expression hardened.

“But seriously… it’s a baking competition?! Not cooking?!”

He glanced at the clock.

“It’s past 11 PM. Either I give up… or…”

He reached up to his brown bookshelf, pulling out a gray recipe book. But behind it—there was a strange gleam.

Tariq shielded his eyes from the intense shine, intrigued.

(What the…?)

He found a small pouch behind the book. As the light faded, he inspected it closely.

It was filled with a bright blue powder—shiny, vibrant, and almost glowing.

“The hell? Sugar this bright? It’s gotta be premium quality…”

Curious, Tariq scooped some into his hand.

He didn’t realize the particles were finer than sugar. He took a handful anyway and tasted it.

And then—BOOM.

A shockwave pulsed out from him. His eyes lit up a radiant blue. He gently placed the pouch on the counter, awestruck.

“Perfect… this sugar—it’s divine. I feel stronger… I feel like I could bake the best damn cake in the city.”

With a wave of his hand, the kitchen cleaned itself—neatly and instantly. Some kind of… telekinesis?

“This powder… it’s gonna win me the whole thing.”

Tariq immediately got to work, pouring all his effort into baking a test cake. With his newfound power, the batter came together instantly.

He slid the cake into the oven.

“Am I not worthy of a chef’s medal already?” he smirked.

Once done, he took a bite—and fell flat on his back, overwhelmed by the taste.

“Yep. I’m winning this. With this powder? It’ll be a piece of cake.”

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The Next Morning

Tariq woke up energized. He opened his wardrobe, revealing a pristine white chef uniform—a size too large. He gently touched the red scarf hanging beside it.

“Papa Al Khazna… you were a legend in the kitchen. It’s my turn now.”

A tear rolled down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away with a smile.

He put on his father’s chef outfit, oversized but full of legacy, and tied the red scarf around his neck.

“Call me Tariq Al Khazna!”

He shouted at the front door before heading out, bag of ingredients in hand—including the mysterious blue powder.

He hopped on a tuk-tuk to the Qantara Bus Station.

“To the bus station, my friend!”

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Arriving at the Competition – Ismailia

The venue was lavish—ornate, elegant, and filled with excited fans. Tariq walked in, posture proud and confident.

People glanced at his outfit, puzzled at first—then shocked.

“Wait… isn’t that Al Khazna’s uniform?! That’s his son!”

Standing in the crowd, Tariq grinned and shouted:

“Call me Tariq Al Khazna, Al Khazna’s only son!”

Cheers erupted as fans surrounded him.

Inside, the place was clean, metallic, and luxurious. That’s when he saw him—Gateau.

Gateau scoffed, hands in his pockets.

“Wearing your dad’s clothes now? Thinking that’ll help you win?”

“Pfft.”

“You’re going up against the best baker in Egypt—and you don’t even know the basics.”

The crowd laughed, booed, and “oooh”ed like middle schoolers at a roast battle.

But Tariq stood unfazed.

“I’m the descendant of Al Khazna. My bloodline is cooking. You? You got famous from baking trash in a viral video.”

The crowd erupted again—this time cheering for Tariq.

Gateau’s fists clenched, his temper flaring.

“Keep barking. We’ll see who’s left standing.”

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The bell rang.

**“Helloooooo everyone! Welcome to Bake It When You Crave It! Today, we’ve got the arrogant baking prodigy—Gateau!”

Applause explodes around Gateau.

“And his opponent… Tariq Al Khazna!”

Some claps—then more as people warmed up to him.

“Today’s challenge: BLUE CAKES! You’ve got 15 minutes to prepare, and 15 to bake. Ready… go!”

Tariq tossed his bag in the air. Ingredients scattered like fireworks—and with swift, flawless movements, he caught and added each one to his bowl like a master juggler.

He twirled a whisk into the air, caught it mid-spin, and began mixing.

The crowd was impressed. His movements were mesmerizing—graceful, precise, artistic.

Gateau watched bitterly.

“Pfft… flashy nonsense. I’ve got a brand to protect.”

Distracted, Gateau poured in too much baking powder without noticing.

As the prep time ended, both bakers slid their trays into the oven.

Tariq crossed his arms and snapped his fingers. The oven door slammed shut with a satisfying clang.

Gateau was sweating now.

(Damn… Baking used to terrify me. But now—it feels like cooking. That sugar gave me the edge.)

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Judgement Time

Gateau peeked into his oven—his cake was a disaster. Lumpy, dark, and sunken.

(Crap! Too much baking powder? No… I can still win. I bribed the judge.)

He forced a smile.

The timer rang. Both cakes were ready.

Tariq’s cake shimmered. Blue, fluffy, and glowing.

Gateau’s? Brown. Depressed. Sad.

The judge approached. He looked at Gateau’s cake… then turned to Tariq’s.

“I’ll just try Tariq’s first.”

He sliced in—and with one bite, everything changed.

The judge’s eyes glowed blue. His whole body shimmered.

“This is… incredible! OUTSTANDING!”

The audience murmured in awe. The glow… the reaction…

“I don’t even need to taste Gateau’s. The winner is clearly—Tariq!”

The crowd erupted. Even some of Gateau’s fans started chanting for Tariq.

Gateau stood in shock.

“What the actual hell?!” he shouted.

He stormed up, shoved the judge aside, and took a bite of Tariq’s cake himself.

“Wait—Gateau, don’t!” Tariq cried out.

Too late.

Gateau’s eyes turned blue. He began glowing.

His Disposition had awakened.

He glared down at the judge.

“You… I bribed you, and you crown that rookie the winner?!”

Gasps echoed through the crowd.

“Actually, y’know what—screw this.”

Gateau summoned a spinning cannon—made entirely of cake.

“PEW!”

A glowing cake blast fired—obliterating the judge. The ground beneath him melted.

“Screw you.”

Chaos erupted. People screamed and fled.

“SHUT UP!” Gateau roared, firing into the crowd, erasing spectators one by one.

Tariq stood frozen, anxiety crashing over him like a wave.

Gateau turned to him, eyes full of wrath.

“Tariq Al Khazna… I’ll make sure you’re the last of your bloodline.”

He pointed the cannon straight at him.

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To be continued…