Only two

Your keen sense of smell picked up two invading bodies bursting into your dungeon. Shortly afterwards you began hearing sounds of battle, ferocious warcries, blades slashing flesh, furniture shattering, minions drawing their final breath, that sort of noise. From experience you knew that your minions would not last very long.

The Poultry geists, flying ghostly chickens dealt only minimal damage and splattered onto ectoplasm from even the weakest blows, basically just squawking distractions. The Hot Pots, which were large enchanted cauldrons, would lob slow moving fireballs at the heroes. They were immune to conventional damage, but once a hero gets close and sees the prompt "Press X to tip over" pop up, it was all over. Let's not forget the swine chefs, basically smaller clones of you, and though faster and more numerous were easily slaughtered en masse by AoE attacks

You sigh and continue cooking, there was nothing you could do besides wait for the adventurers to arrive. Your predictions were confirmed, as less than 10 minutes later both adventurers arrive at the gates of your arena. Though they did not enter immediately, you sensed that they stopped right outside the twin wooden door. You managed to overhear their conversation.

"I really hope he drops it!" a male voice says.

"Don't get your hopes up, it only has like a 2% drop rate, we're probably gonna have to farm for a while" a female voice answers to the first one.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean... i'm kinda underleveled for this fight..."

"Relax, the Hell Chef is a total joke. Just keep on pelting him and step back whenever you see him raise his cleavers. And get that scroll ready..."

Ah, of course. They were after the mythical "Pulled Pork" drop. It was a food item unique to you, it healed 500 health points and gave a 30% damage and speed boost for 20 seconds upon consumption, the perfect snack for any assassin or marksman.

By the sounds of it, you were dealing with a more experienced player helping out a lower leveled friend, which was really not an uncommon sight due to the large amount of experience you gave upon defeat. You get into position at the center of the arena, and you prepare yourself to get destroyed and humiliated once again...

No, you suddenly think to yourself, raising your chin up. Pitying yourself would accomplish nothing. You needed to be determined if you want the monotonous hell that is your existence to ever improve. These adventurers might still kick your ass, but at least this was a step in the right direction. You take the two giant cleavers from your back and you clutch them hard in your three digit hands. You focus your gaze at the entrance, awaiting your opponents.

The heavy wooden doors swing open and slam into the walls, and the two heroes barge in...