A structure as monumental as this arena was bound to have a history behind it.
Rumors circulated that in ancient times, it was used to host the actual Champions' Games.
That was entirely possible, but in modern times, almost no one spoke of it anymore, and the 'Selection of the Worthy to Become the Champion of Dream' was viewed by the people as a formality and simply a great spectacle.
No one really believed that the Dream Champion could actually be found in Concord. If anything, this place was the least likely spot for such an event.
But despite all that, in their conversations, people called this arena the 'Arena of Champions.'
"Hurry, hurry, only 7 minutes left until registration closes!"
A plump, gray-haired old man, dressed entirely in white, sat in front of a massive arch marking the main entrance.
Above his head loomed a large inscription reading 'Soar,' and on either side of it, banners bearing the flags of Concord and the Abode of Dreams fluttered all the way to the bottom.
The Concord flag had a red background. On it was a white hand reaching up from below toward another hand, as if in a pleading gesture.
The second hand reached down from above, as if reaching down to grant salvation. It was a frightening black hand with disturbingly long fingers.
The flag of the Abode of Dreams was much simpler, but no less impressive. A pure white background and a bright star reaching upward. That was enough to inspire awe in everyone.
"Come on, come on, hurry up!" The gray-haired old man drummed his pen against the table.
A crowd of about twenty to thirty people still surrounded his single table. Every single one of them was dressed in snow-white robes. Their skin was an unnatural white.
On top of that, their hair was long and snow-white… But most likely, they were wigs.
A young boy, who looked just barely an adult, hurried over to the old man's table.
"Oh, sorry, Grandpa. I was delayed helping an old lady cross the street… Here's my file." The boy smiled warmly and sent the file via his Neodeck.
"Hmm… yeah, yeah." The old man murmured and nodded.
Soon, a holographic projection containing information about the boy emerged from the object on his desk.
The old man began awkwardly flipping through it, apparently having little experience with such technology.
"Three years of volunteer work, a degree in purity studies, a degree in moral affairs… Oh, wow. You presented a research paper on 'The Importance of Equality of Every Life and Race' in the Concord Parliament?"
"Ha-ha, the stars were smiling on me back then…" The boy smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head, causing his wig to slip slightly. "I was lucky to find like-minded people, but unfortunately, society wasn't ready for such radical ideas yet."
A wave of "oohs" and supportive murmurs swept through the crowd behind him.
The old man nodded, and the smile on his face grew wider. Finally, closing the file, he looked directly at the boy.
"Tell me, boy… Why do you want to become the Champion of Dream?"
"So that…" The boy hesitated slightly, as if he were embarrassed to say it. He clenched his fists and, closing his eyes, blurted it all out in one breath. "To become a symbol of hope! I want my light to illuminate the hearts of everyone who looks at me! And their hearts, filled with light, will then illuminate the hearts of those around them! That way, the world will be filled with light!!!"
"Oh…" The old man was stunned by this passionate outburst, but then smiled even more warmly.
"I-I…"
"You have a bright future ahead of you, Santi Mikalz," the old man replied with a kind smile.
While the boy was still reeling from such praise, a low rumble of discontent began to rise from the crowd behind him. The white figures started to move.
"Did I make it?!" Santi shouted, his eyes shining.
"Heh-heh, tell me the name you'll be competing under, boy."
"Ah, I…! Let everyone call me the Star, who…"
"…Move."
*Thud!* A violent shove slammed into his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
He lost his balance and fell, hitting a sharp corner of the table.
A ringing sensation struck his head, and something thick and warm began to run down his face.
"Mm, what the…" Through blurred vision, he looked at his own blood flowing from his split eyebrow. "W-what the…"
That was when he saw… him.
A man in a black cloak, towering over everyone in the crowd of people in white. He didn't belong here—at all. Someone who shouldn't be among them.
His face was cold and seemed… as if he weren't alive. Not real.
This man was evil made flesh.
"How dare you?! Apologize immediately to…"
"I don't care, you gray pig. Don't bother and shut your filthy mouth, or I'll do it myself," the man in black cut him off coldly.
"W-what are you..."
"Are you deaf? I don't recall cutting off your ears, so maybe you've been born a little freak like this?"
This cruel remark left the old man speechless.
The crowd behind him began to murmur, and the more aggressive ones started moving toward the man in black.
"How dare you behave this way in a place like this…" The boldest one stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, but…
*Click!* The sound of a revolver being cocked against the brave fool chin rang out.
"...One more word, and your clean little suit will be drenched in a red rain of your own brains." He shifted his gaze from the brave fool to the crowd. "That goes for all of you."
"What the he…"
*Boom!!!* A shot rang out.
Those who had doubted that what was happening was real finally believed it.
"…" Someone's teeth began to chatter
One of the men fell to his knees, while another's clean suit was now darkened at the crotch.
*Drip…* A drop of blood rolled out of the brave fool's ear, leaving a bloody trail down his cheek before falling to the floor.
The revolver's shot had boomed right next to his ear, rupturing his eardrum.
"… A miss? Looks like the barrel's clogged…" the man in black whispered, examining the revolver.
That whisper made those who weren't already trembling with fear regret ever waking up today.
The brave fool, whose eardrum had burst, fell to the ground, seemingly unconscious.
"Doesn't matter. The second one always hits…" Ignoring the general silent panic, he turned back to the old man. "You gray pig, you can speak."
"W-what do you want?"
"...Me? I just came because someone..."
Suddenly, a new voice rang out right above them.
"You know, when I talked about a dramatic entrance, I didn't quite mean this."
"..."
"Miss Marie! This psychopath wants to kill us all! P-please, save us!!!"
Eyes trembling with terror suddenly lit up with wonderful hope.
Of course, every one of them knew this girl of otherworldly beauty and incredible strength. Now, surely, this man's time had come…
"Ahem, he's with me," Marie replied, landing next to the old man.
"…What?" the old man asked, as if he hadn't heard correctly.
"I said, he's with me."
"…"
"What are you standing there for? Go ahead and register him."
The cold face of the man in black broke into a broad smile.
He smiled maliciously, meeting the gaze of the one choking on his own sobs right at his feet—the boy, Santi.
'Yes… Look at me just like that.'
In a place where light and holiness should have reigned, there appeared…
The darkest of villains.