Champions.
Everyone in the world has heard this title.
But what are they truly for?
The most obvious—yet nonetheless accurate—answer is: to participate in the Champions' Games.
But if you dig a little deeper, things weren't quite that simple.
Champions were symbols. Of their Path, their people, their Peak.
In almost all cases, it wasn't the Peaks themselves, but their Champions who acted freely and were the ones who truly interacted with the world.
If you go even further…
The world quite literally depended on the Champions' Games… Or rather, it used to. While the six Champions battled each other in a massive contest, the world remained in balance.
But that balance has long since been shaken and now barely hangs on a brittle branch.
And although hardly anyone believed this would happen today… But the whole world's hope was truly tied to the coming of the Champion of Dream.
Where is he, really?
"Hahaha…!" Mr. Nobody stood in the shadow of the arena arch and couldn't hold back his laughter.
It wasn't hysterical laughter or a defensive reaction. The situation had genuinely made him laugh until he cried.
"God, what an absurd mess. Haah…" He sighed deeply and rubbed his eye sockets. "…But at least I'll have an excuse for the future. That means I'll feel less guilty."
"Mr. Nobody, judging by what you're saying, we should expect Plan R, then?"
"You don't approve of it?"
"In this situation… it should be fine."
"Great. And by the way, can you briefly explain what's supposed to happen here? It just seems like they're already getting ready to…"
…
"GO!!!"
"GO!!!"
"GO!!!"
Thousands of people in the packed arena jumped to their feet, letting out a joyful shout.
"Welcome, everyone, to the world's greatest show!" A male commentator's voice echoed through the arena.
"That's right! Every seat is taken, the popcorn is sold out, and the contestants are ready! It's time for the big showdown! " The energetic female voice of the second commentator rang out.
"I'm truly looking forward to what lies ahead! 256 contestants are ready to compete for the grand prize—the method for taking the First Step on the Path of the special ones—the Path of Dream! What's more, the most worthy will become a true contender for the title of Champion of Dream!"
"Before we meet the contestants, let's give a warm round of applause to our musical star, Lilia. The concert was really top-notch!"
Colorful lighting effects focused on the girl in her revealing outfit. She smiled radiantly and, waving her hands, walked off the center of the arena.
Soon, the colors returned to lighter hues, and people dressed in white began entering the arena.
*Tap-tap* Someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
Looking up, Kuronuma saw a man in a dark blue jacket. His black hair was cut in a formal style, he wore glasses, and his face seemed indifferent.
"...Thanks," she muttered quietly into her mask, taking the popcorn.
"Salted? Are you serious? I asked for caramel," Tasha said discontentedly, sitting to her right.
"There wasn't any caramel," he replied indifferently, sitting down next to Tasha.
"Then at least get something sweet. Not salted."
"…There was only salted."
"You're lying!"
While her guardians chatted, Kuronuma sighed quietly, gazing up at the arena's roof. She wore a cap and white fur earmuffs.
She also wore a black mask that covered her face up to the bridge of her nose and futuristic-style sunglasses.
The perfect disguise.
"Haa… I hope you find what you're looking for," she whispered, her eyes locking onto a tiny black speck on the arena roof.
Hundreds of meters across from Kuronuma, a cat lay relaxed.
Its blue eyes also watched from above at the darkest corners of the arena.
"Oh! It's starting, it's starting! Kuronuma, look!"
"Huh? Yeah…"
…
A few minutes earlier.
As far as Paymax had managed to explain to him, this event revolved around combat.
You could only lose here if you chose to give up. Even after the most brutal incidents, they would put a person back together piece by piece and restore them to life.
Apparently, the essence of determining who is worthy lies in overcoming difficulties, brutal trials, and subsequently getting back on your feet. Simply put, it was about not giving up, no matter what, and ultimately winning.
Actually, it was a pretty good way to determine who is worthy, but the situations that could arise under such conditions… It's best not to dwell on that too much. Especially for children.
According to the rules, practically everything was prohibited here. No firearms, grenades, or traps; all implant functions had to be disabled except for those essential for survival… Only those who had not chosen the Path and had not taken a single Step were allowed to participate.
Simply put, the participants were ordinary people, and the Selection itself was supposed to be something like a martial arts tournament with melee weapons.
Clearly not Mr. Nobody's specialty.
"…And how am I even supposed to fight? Of all these weapons, the only ones I know how to use are a knife… and a long staff."
Mr. Nobody muttered as he walked along the edge of the arena in the shadow of the stands. He was heading toward the checkpoint that all participants had to pass through.
Perhaps someone in the stands had already noticed his unusual figure, but most likely, everyone's attention was focused on the concert that was coming to a close.
"These conditions couldn't be worse for you. On top of that, Mr. Nobody, you'll be facing opponents who have been training for this moment practically since birth." In Norwich, there's even a special training center for this, where the richest and most influential people send their children. There, they learn to wield various types of bladed weapons, master martial arts, and develop the qualities expected of the Champion of Dream.
"It seems Big Brother really wants this…"
"…But don't give up so quickly. You're a villain, Mr. Nobody."
"What are you…"
"Then don't let them expect you to play fair," Paymax replied mysteriously.
Mr. Nobody had already reached the checkpoint attendant.
"Implants? Your palm. What does it do?" the arena attendant asked him quickly.
"Like this." He snapped his fingers, and a small flame flared up for a moment. "Can't be removed. Just ordinary material. There are no other implants."
"We'll temporarily disable its functions. Place your palm on the panel."
Next, he underwent a scan for other implants and handed over his revolver.
"And what's this? The system can't identify this object." The officer pointed to the black bracelet on his wrist.
"Huh? That's… Just a talisman. It doesn't really have any functions, except…" He touched the bracelet.
"Win, my hero in black!" read the inscription on the hologram of the planet that appeared. The hologram was different from before… The hologram of the planet was wearing a revealing bikini.
The officers' reaction was unequivocal.
"Turn that off and never show it again."
"Ha-ha, sure."
"…One more thing. You need to choose a weapon that will materialize before your duel. Swords, axes, daggers, clubs, and so on. You can describe it in detail, or you can choose from ready-made presets."
"Hmm…"
He fell into thought. Of course, Paymax had mysteriously promised him some way to win, but the choice of weapon was still extremely important. Especially for his Plan R.
And yet, the only weapon he could use more or less decently was a knife—and a long…
"Huh? Hahaha…" He suddenly laughed, as if a brilliant, bloody idea had popped into his head." That might actually work.
"Mister?"
"Write down the details. The length, color, and material should be…"
…
"Boss, what are you doing here? Did you just come to look around, or do you have a mission?"
"Boss?! Have I really lived to see the day when someone started calling me that?" exclaimed the man in a dark gray coat and a black mask with strange lenses, looking stunned.
"Still, boss, why are you here?"
"Oh… Well, just think of it as me watching the show and carrying out a small errand for my own boss."
"Then I…"
"No, no, it's fine, you can sit next to me." Noir glanced at the participants in white who had appeared in the arena. "By the way, do they take bets here? I wouldn't mind betting my entire paycheck on some dark horse."
"I'll check…"
His subordinate stepped away for a moment.
Noir watched the show that was just beginning with amusement, until…
"Huh? What?" A red light suddenly flashed on his temple, as if a message had suddenly arrived. Noir sat with his head down, then suddenly stood up and whispered through clenched teeth. "Fool Baals…"
…
"Paymax, I keep wondering if Big Brother really exists…"
"Do you really want to talk about that right now?"
"Ha-ha, just thinking out loud, I guess I'm nervous. You know, it's not every day I get to paste people into the ground."
He returned to the entrance arch—the darkest spot in the entire arena—and savored the last few seconds of his conversation with Paymax.
"To address your concerns, I want to say that even if you smash someone's brains all over the arena, that person is unlikely to die. Look at the VIP box in the third row of the central grandstand. Four people on the left."
"Hm?"
Following his gaze, he saw a slender man with chestnut hair, blue eyes, and a face… that reminded him of someone.
"That's a powerful representative of the Path of Bond. He's here to assist in the process of determining the most worthy. He's here to ensure no one loses their life or suffers physical injury."
"…So, does that mean we can smear someone's brains all over the arena?"
"…"
"No one's forcing you to talk… Oh, whatever. Looks like we're already…"
*Screech…* A screech rang out from the arena entrance.
"Scum…" came a stifled, angry whisper.
"…" Mr. Nobody fell silent, remaining in the shadows.
Ten seconds later, the very same girl who had performed at the opening walked past him. Blood was already seeping from her fingernails.
"Fucking scum…" she kept whispering behind his back.
Apparently, she hadn't even noticed his figure, which had blended into the shadows.
"...Your last song was total shit," he said in a cold voice, without even turning around.
"What the f…"
"But the first one was okay."
He turned and looked into her stunned face.
"W-what the hell are you talking about?!"
"…"
"Are you one of the performers?! Why the hell are you here alone instead of standing with the rest of those white-clad idiots?!"
"And why are you here alone?"
"B-because… Because I fucking wanted to!"
"Well, because I fucking wanted to. Got a problem with that?"
"What? Are you fucking threatening me? What the hell do you even want from me?"
"Me? I don't want anything from you."
"Then…"
"I just saw a familiar look in your eyes. The one I used to have a long time ago."
"W-what the… Have you been watching too many fucking movies? Or do you think that just because I'm dressed like this, you can spout some pretentious bullshit and I'll spread my legs right away? Go fuck yourself…"
"…You want them dead. You want their heads to explode, and their brains splatter through the air."
"…"
For the first time since their sudden conversation, the girl fell silent.
A few seconds passed, but she remained silent.
"You want them to suffer. To hurt. At least as much hurt as you're in."
"You… You fucking…"
"I'm leaving." He turned and walked toward the arena lights. "Don't miss the show."
"What the fuck are you going to do?!" The girl couldn't hold back and screamed.
"What am I going to do?" He looked at her over his shoulder and smiled. "R. Paint it Red."
"Paint… What?"
"Everything. Everything and everyone."
As his footsteps faded into the distance, the girl hesitated, torn by indecision.
But still, as absurd as it seemed, she asked:
"Do you promise that?!"
Even out in the light, this man was dark.
He couldn't help himself and laughed.
That was exactly what convinced her of the truth of those words. That very laugh.
Because it sent shivers down her own spine.
"Promise… Nobody is promising that."