Meanwhile, on the other side of the globe—America, Seattle.
Atop a skyscraper brimming with futuristic tech aesthetics, in a CEO's office the size of a football field.
A middle-aged man in an expensive hand-tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses—looking cultured and refined—sat behind an enormous desk, listening to his subordinate's report.
"...Mr. Norton, according to the latest financial report, our company's net profit increased another 15 percentage points last quarter. Our current total market value now exceeds the combined market value of companies ranked second through tenth."
"Mm, noted." The man called Norton gave only a casual nod, his face showing not a trace of joy—as if those astronomical figures were less interesting to him than the temperature of the coffee on his desk.
He was the behind-the-scenes organizer of this year's KOF tournament, the founder and CEO of Microsoft—oh wait, "Norton Software Company." Known as the "God of Technology" and "Walking Money Printer," he was the world's richest man—Gates Norton.
He waved his hand, dismissing the CFO.
Then he turned his gaze to the other two people standing nearby.
"Mary, how's the KOF invitation distribution going?" he asked.
Standing to his left was a woman in a sharp business suit with short golden hair, a smoking hot figure, yet an aura as cold as a glacier—Blue Mary!
Who would have thought that this famous female agent from the underground fighting world had become the world's richest man's personal secretary and bodyguard?
"Sir, essentially all notable fighters have received their invitations, and most have confirmed their participation." Mary reported in an emotionless, formulaic tone.
"Excellent." Norton nodded with satisfaction. "What I want is an unprecedented, most perfect, most extravagant fighting spectacle! All security, broadcasting, and logistics must be world-class! Money is no object—I want the whole world to see what real fighting looks like!"
His eyes gleamed with an almost fanatical light.
Though he wasn't a fighter himself, he harbored an almost pathological obsession with "the occult" and "transcendent power."
His purpose in hosting this tournament was to lure all those "monsters" hiding in the world's shadows into the spotlight, so he could... study them thoroughly.
Just then, the man standing beside Mary—wearing a black suit but still habitually twirling a three-section staff in his hand—suddenly spoke up.
"Sir, there's one person who's extremely troublesome."
It was none other than "Staff King" Billy Kane!
"Who?" Norton asked.
A complex emotion flickered across Billy's face—fear, wariness, and a trace of resentment.
"Cloud."
At the name, Norton's eyes instantly lit up.
"Oh? The three-time defending champion, the man who legendarily sealed the Divine Tribe's Goenitz single-handedly?" His face showed intense interest. "Why is he extremely troublesome? I'm quite eager to see just how amazing this King of Fighters really is."
"Because... there's no point." Billy said bitterly. "Someone like him—whether he comes or not depends entirely on his own interest, not some little invitation."
"Moreover," he paused, "I suggest we... not go out of our way to provoke him."
Billy still couldn't forget the terror of being dominated by Cloud's godlike power back in South Town.
However, the instant his words fell—
Knock knock knock.
The office's specially-reinforced alloy door—capable of withstanding rocket attacks—was gently knocked upon.
"Who is it?" Norton frowned.
"Someone... you were apparently just discussing."
Along with a lazy voice, that heavy door slowly, silently swung inward—without any authorization whatsoever.
A black-haired, dark-eyed Asian youth in casual clothes walked in with a smile.
The moment Billy saw who it was, his pupils contracted to pinpoints!
The three-section staff in his hand clattered to the ground. His entire body went rigid as if hit by a petrification spell.
Mary, too, instinctively reached for her waist, assuming a defensive stance.
The visitor was Cloud.
"Relax, Billy." Cloud waved at the staff-king who looked ready to wet himself, flashing a "friendly" smile. "As long as you behave this time and don't wave that stick of yours at me, I won't hit you."
With that, he ignored the two "bodyguards" who were treating him like a mortal enemy, walked straight to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
Then he turned his gaze toward the world's richest man—who had maintained his composure throughout, though his eyes brimmed with curiosity and inquiry.
"First time meeting, Mr. Norton."
"I'm the... trouble you're looking for."
The atmosphere in Norton's CEO office turned distinctly bizarre.
The air was thick with something called "awkwardness."
Billy Kane remained frozen in his "oops, dropped my staff" pose, stiff as a statue, internally starring in a horror one-man show titled "Holy Shit, Why Is He Here" and "Is He Going to Beat Me Up Again."
Meanwhile, the world's richest man, Mr. Norton, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and examined this uninvited "King of Fighters" with the scrutinizing gaze one might use for a rare specimen.
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