Darkness. Absolute.
No sound. No breath. No body to feel.
Just a thought floating in the void:
…Am I waiting for something?
A sudden pressure explodes around me—and I'm thrown into existence.
Riku opens his eyes and finds himself suspended in emptiness. An endless, starless void. His feet touch nothing, yet he doesn't fall.
"What the—!?"
A heartbeat later, shapes flicker into being. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. People manifest one after another, panic building like static in the air.
Before Riku can even process it—
THUD.
A fist slams into his face, sending him crashing into someone behind him.
"Gh—!"
He tumbles, scrapes on a floor that shouldn't even exist, and clutches his cheek.
A girl rushes toward him. "Entschuldigen Sie! Alles in Ordnung?"
German? Riku blinks at her, momentarily struck speechless—not just by her words, but by her.
Long blond ponytail. Clear blue eyes. An athletic frame and a warm presence that seems absurd in a place like this.
"I… don't understand," Riku mutters. "Do you speak English?"
She hesitates. "Oh… uh… yes?"
That didn't sound like a yes at all.
Before Riku can question her, she finally looks around. Her eyes widen. "Woah…"
Only now she realizes where we are? Seriously!?
Riku turns to the guy he crashed into. "Sorry about that. You okay?"
"I'm fine…"
The tall boy scans the void. "What the hell is this place?"
"I wish I knew," Riku murmurs.
The guy approaches. He's huge—easily over 1.90m—with black hair and sharp gray eyes. His expression is calm but unreadable, like nothing can truly surprise him.
Before they can speak again… more people appear.
In seconds, the empty void becomes a sea of bodies—hundreds of thousands, then millions. Voices overlap into a thunderous roar of confusion.
Then—
A single voice cuts through everything.
"Mortals!"
The air itself seems to vibrate as silence falls.
On the massive arc-shaped structure in front of them, a man descends its colossal steps.
"I welcome you to the Divine Space," he declares. "I am Bragi, god of poetry and music—and your guide."
A god?
Riku exchanges a glance with the tall boy.
"Did he just—?"
"Since when do you speak Japanese?" Riku interrupts.
"I don't," the boy says. "But you're speaking French right now."
"What!?"
Bragi smiles slightly. "Ah, that. We have granted you all the language of the gods. Every mortal here now speaks and understands one tongue."
We?
Riku's stomach tightens.
Thrones materialize on the arc—dozens of figures appearing on them as if they had always been there. At the highest point, an overwhelming light bursts into being.
Riku shields his eyes. It isn't just bright—it's oppressive.
Bragi claps his hands lightly. "Let us proceed. First point: We have summoned 724,234,932 mortals for a single purpose—"
He points toward the blinding light.
"To choose the next Supreme God."
A shiver runs down Riku's spine.
"How do we choose one?" Bragi continues. "Through a grand tournament. And yes… it requires killing each other until only one remains."
The crowd erupts.
Bragi waits, almost bored.
"I know, I know—'this isn't fair.' Unfortunately, fairness isn't an option. Participation is mandatory."
He raises his voice sharply. "Enough!"
The crowd goes silent again.
"Second point: the stage of this tournament. The planet below your feet—Aetherion. A world crafted for you. But you will not be alone."
A ripple of unease spreads.
"Alongside you, mythical creatures will roam the land. If the tournament becomes dull, where would the fun be for us?"
They're addicted to entertainment… Riku grits his teeth.
"Third point: the blessings. To prevent you from collapsing at the first strike, we have strengthened your bodies and sharpened your senses. Wounds healed, diseases removed, lost limbs restored. Do not misunderstand—this does not make you all identical. Your natural abilities remain—strength, talent, intelligence, instinct—but now no one starts so disadvantaged that they would die instantly. Let's say… instead of starting from exactly the same line, you all start from the same track. From there, what you were before and what you gain now combine. And each of you has the chance to reach the end."
Whispers ripple through the masses.
"Gods may also grant divine weapons," Bragi adds, "though they are limited. Only a few chosen ones will receive them."
He pauses. His gaze sharpens.
"And now—something crucial for the third point. Each group of followers has one person who may unlock a secret power, after completing a personal objective given by the Supreme God. Only one per group may hold it. If they die, another may claim it. And the longer one retains it… the stronger it grows."
Gasps. Fear. Envy. Panic.
Bragi moves on.
"Fourth point. You may speak with your deity up to three times. Five minutes per meeting. The first is right after this explanation. The others depend on two things: the god's will… and yours."
"Will?" someone repeats.
"Desire. Purpose. Survival. If you seek a meeting without true will… it will not occur."
Finally, Bragi steps before all mortals.
"Fifth and final point… as some of you may have noticed, we gods are deeply tied to entertainment. For centuries we've watched humanity—sometimes from afar, sometimes up close—and we learned one thing: we adore you. Your emotions, your impulses, the way you turn even chaos into meaning… it's spectacular."
The gods behind him nodded, amused and proud.
"But practically speaking, we couldn't bring every human here just to let them all die except one. So we chose a smaller group—those between sixteen and twenty‑one. Why?"
He walked among them, his voice growing warmer.
"Because you are the most fascinating to watch. Your emotions burn brighter. Your desire to discover yourselves, to learn, to love, to act on instinct even when it's reckless… for us, you are the beating heart of humanity."
He spread his arms.
"That's why we don't give you any rules there. Do whatever you want. Form alliances, make friends, find love if you can. We'll remain here—days, weeks, years, longer if needed. We'll wait. All to give you the freedom to live, to act, to be yourselves. Not only for our enjoyment, but for yours."
Yet Bragi could see hesitation in many faces.
"Still not convinced?"
Suddenly he dashed back up the staircase, drawing every eye to him.
"Then let me make it clear. Ahead of you lies danger, hardship, and uncertainty—but this is your second chance! A chance to become someone, to prove your worth! History is calling you, so for the last time… fight for US! We gods who granted you this SECOND CHANCE! Cry for us! Rejoice for us! Die for us! Grow stronger every day, and learn to show no mercy when the moment demands it! From now on, every action you take can reshape existence itself!"
The crowd erupted, a wave of unison shouts shaking the divine hall.
Bragi smiled, satisfied.
"And to motivate you even further… every deed—good or evil—will be written in the Sacred Book. When all this ends, it will be delivered to the humans left on Earth, so this moment is never forgotten. One way or another… you will become part of history."
Bragi lifts his hand.
"And now… the real game begins."