255 participants, dressed in white, lined up in the center of the arena.
The stands fell silent, and the bright lights faded completely, giving way to darkness. Above the arena's open roof, the star-studded night sky came into view, along with the "Red Eye" of the orbital station in space.
"Phew…" In the universal silence, Mr. Nobody, standing off to the side beneath one of the stands, exhaled cigarette smoke.
"Mr. Nobody, I must warn you… Too many eyes are on this event. What you're about to do will attract an incredible amount of attention and, consequently, risk. Even with all the security measures and your special abilities, the risk of exposure remains very high.
"I know… I know," he whispered, taking another drag. "It's a funny paradox, Paymax. After hiding for so long, a person can start to unconsciously wish… that they'd finally be exposed. No one can wear that many faces forever. Eventually, you'll start to forget your own.
"I understand."
'Besides, what I really want to hide… Not even "He" will be able to find out. That is, if he actually exists…'
Interrupting his train of thought, a mystical melody began to play in the dark arena.
"Six Peaks… Six Paths… and Six Champions." The commentator began in a mysterious voice.
Above the center of the arena, right in midair, six large projections with images appeared.
"Knowledge."
"Bond."
"Fortitude."
"Havoc."
"Dream."
"…Solitude."
Mysterious symbols appeared on each projection.
A mesmerizing silence still enveloped the arena when…
"And Concord…" the commentator added.
Another projection appeared above the six, and its symbol mirrored the one depicted on the Concord flag.
It seemed that even during such a sacred event, the commentators were under some kind of… external pressure.
Soon, the images gave way to a video. On each projection, a powerful representative of their Path demonstrated their own abilities.
As a wave of gasps and admiration swept through the stands, all the projections merged into one large one. A completely different video was playing on it.
It seemed special.
Strangely, the video on the screen resembles as if seen through someone's eyes.
The focus was on a man in white clothing with long, snow-white hair reaching down to his waist. He stood with his back to the viewer.
The world around him looked like it had just survived an apocalypse.
Yet the atmosphere felt strangely serene… almost magical. The sun shone in the cloudless sky, and the stars shone especially brightly.
"…" The person watching the man pointed at him.
A long, black finger… unnatural, terrifying.
"Hmph…" The snow-white man smiled gently and raised his own finger as well.
A dazzling radiance began to emanate from the tip of his finger, concentrated into a single point. It was like… the birth of a star.
The snow-white man turned his head over his shoulder toward the one pointing at him with a black finger. A relaxed smile shone on his face.
"In that case… Let the game begin, Brother."
"…" A low, satisfied rasp was heard.
That single sound made the hearts of tens of thousands freeze…
In terror.
"LET THE GAME BEGIN!!!"
"LET THE GAME BEGIN!!!"
The commentators shouted in unison, and the darkness gave way to a bright flash, like a star going supernova.
Soon, every spectator and even every participant joined in the shout.
"LET THE GAME BEGIN!!!"
…
"Is this what they call the imitation of the Opening Ceremony?" said Mr. Nobody.
"That's right. Did you find it thrilling?"
"...Bit too long for my taste. But even I got goosebumps from that video."
"If you're interested, I can explain what that scene actually was."
"Some other time… It's time to start, Paymax."
…
"Yes, yes, yes! Let's begin the game!" The male commentator shouted excitedly.
"As is tradition for the first match, the first and last registered participants are called to the arena! So, meet the first… Dream Chaser!!!"
"WOOOOOOO!"
The entire arena roared with joy, welcoming the first participant.
In the background, a melody from the repertoire of a recently performing singer began to play—perhaps the participant's own choice.
A broad-shouldered, fit man jogged into the center of the arena. A radiant smile lit up his face, and, notably, he didn't appear to be wearing a wig. He had short bangs, and his hair was completely dyed white.
"Thank you, thank you! Hello, everyone!"
Soon, the modern song ended, and the female commentator's voice was heard again.
"Dream Chaser! Weapon: dual blades!"
Two slender, silvery swords appeared right in the air in front of the man.
He grabbed them with both hands and, making sharp movements, showed off a few moves.
"WOOOOOOO!!!" The audience cheered joyfully at the energy radiating from him.
"Thank you, everyone!" he shouted and bowed.
It was hard to imagine that every match would go like this. Many people came solely for the imitation of the Opening and considered it just a glorified music show
There were a lot of participants, and consequently, a lot of fights. The audience would simply lose interest, especially given how similar the participants were.
Surely, after the very first fight, a certain portion of the audience would want to leave…
"And his opponent is the last contestant! Meet… the Plowman?!"
Even before the crowd could react, the arena was filled with…
The sound of bells.
And playful children's voices singing a creepy little song.
It was like a scene from a horror movie.
"Ding-ding-dong, ding-ding-dong, Nobody's at your door."
"Knock-knock-knock, knock-knock-knock, Nobody wants you more."
"Tip-tip-tap, tip-tip-tap, Nobody's coming in."
"Tip-tip-tap, tip-tip-tap, Nobody owns your soul."
A man dressed in black stepped into the center amid the silence of the stands and the ringing of children's voices.
Only the woman sitting to the right of the girl in the cap couldn't help herself and facepalmed her face.
"That idiot didn't even bother to change the name in the so…"
"WAAAAAAAAAAH!!!
The audience erupted in impressed shouts.
"I even got goosebumps, wow!" the female commentator chimed in as the song came to an end. "Meet the Plowman. Weapon… This guy must be kidding! A scythe! Hahaha, unbelievable! Considering the song, maybe you should've gone with something like the Soul Reaper instead?!"
A very long scythe appeared before the man in the center of the arena. It looked to be over three meters long. Its shaft was completely black, and the terrifyingly long blade… blood-red.
It was hard to imagine anyone being able to handle such a weapon.
"…" The man in black easily lifted the scythe and tested it with a few slow swings.
It didn't look ridiculous, but there was something strange about his movements and the scythe's movements. The scythe's shaft bent and was clearly made of an unusual material, and the way this man handled it…
He resembled someone who had returned to a beloved hobby or sport after a long time. His movements were unhurried, and he clearly relished every moment.
"I heard you were rude to my younger ones," Dream Chaser addressed him with a friendly smile. "Friend, you shouldn't behave that way."
"It seems they're talking! How interesting, let's listen!" exclaimed the first commentator.
Soon their conversation could be heard throughout the arena.
"…"
"Do you understand? Don't you want to apologize to them?"
Waves of gasps rippled through the stands, as if the spectators were intrigued by this "dialogue."
"…"
"Oh, fine, friend. Then, as the elder, I'll have to teach you a little lesson. Nothing personal, it's just my duty to protect the younger ones. You have to understand."
"…"
The man in black remained silent, continuing to slowly twirl the scythe around his body.
"Hey, maybe you could say something already?"
"…You're a dead man walking. What's the point of you answering?"
After that remark, the female commentator spoke up.
"Whoa! And this guy clearly knows a thing or two about stage presence!"
Along with her, the spectators in the stands also smiled in admiration.
"Haha, I get it…" Dream Chaser laughed exaggeratedly. "You're one of those guys who came here putting on a show, am I right?"
"…Why do you find that funny, idiot? Soon, your guts will be splattered all over the floor, and a couple of hundred people in the stands will be sharing pieces of your head among themselves. Is that so funny?"
"Hahaha, well, yeah, just like I said. How amusing…"
"Wow, wow, wow! Damn it, that was pretty harsh!" the commentator exclaimed in surprise.
"That goes for you, too, you yapping bitch. Soon you'll be reading off a script, holding back tears and the urge to vomit, but right now… You find this funny?"
"Did you hear that?! Did that guy really just call me a yapping bitch?! Unbelievable…"
The people in the stands gaped in surprise, unable to contain their astonishment. Soon their faces were filled with smiles again, and the arena filled with applause.
Dream Chaser smirked sarcastically, as if this outcome had been obvious all along.
Only the faces of two… three people in the stands were slowly going pale with terror.
"Well, I'll admit, you've got me there. But believe me, during a match…"
"…People always react the same way." Instead of addressing his opponent or the commentator, Mr. Nobody glanced out at the stands. "Have you ever witnessed truly large-scale terrorist attacks?"
The people in the stands smiled again, waiting to hear what this man would say next.
"At the very beginning, no one really realizes what's happening. At first, they think it's some kind of prank or joke. They play along, laugh, record videos, and even clap their hands. That's the reaction of most people… Do you know how to tell if you've fallen for this and recognize in advance that something terrible is coming? It might save you from psychological trauma."
"Haha, come on!" the commentator blurted out cheerfully. Almost every viewer reacted similarly. "So what do we need to do, the Plowman?!"
"Look at the person sitting next to you…"
Marie, sitting in the VIP box, glanced at Simon sitting next to her.
"Haha, darling, you really weren't joking. This guy is something else," Simon said with a cheerful smile, sipping red wine from his glass.
"…This guy must be kidding — you'll know that from the face of the person next to you. Maybe he's smiling or laughing. He finds what's happening amusing.
Kuronuma glanced at Tasha, who was sitting next to her.
"If your neighbor's expression really looks like what I described…"
"He's not kidding. We're completely fucked!" Tasha mouthed with a pale face.
"...Then you're completely fucked. If your neighbor is clearly panicking, then you're very lucky—you might still have time to run away or at least close your eyes. That's all it takes"
For a few seconds, a deafening silence enveloped the stands, and then…
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
A deafening roar of laughter swept through the entire arena.
Absolutely every single one of the tens of thousands of spectators couldn't hold back their laughter.
The only exceptions were a couple of people and a black cat watching everything from the roof.
"Hahaha! Alright, that was really funny! Start the countdown!"
"10" A large projection of the number appeared between the Dream Chaser and the Plowman.
"Haha, buddy, that was really cool. You really made me laugh." Dream Chaser said with a cheerful smile, raising his blades.
"9"
He expected his opponent, who had put on such a show, to remain unresponsive once again…
But this time, there was a reaction.
"8"
Mr. Nobody looked up through the open roof of the arena. A satisfied smile spread across his face, tas he looked up.
"…Just as I said, didn't I? People always react the same way."
"7"
His gaze met only the ever-silent stars… and the Red Eye.
…
Dark space, seemingly stretching endlessly.
The pitch-black darkness, in which nothing living should exist, was pierced only by the dim, flickering light of countless little lights.
It looked like a small, old, bulky television… Only there wasn't just one.
Two.
Three.
Five.
Ten.
A hundred.
A thousand.
Tens of thousands.
Hundreds of thousands…
It seemed as though there were an infinite number of them. Their screens played recordings from different corners of the world…
And only a few dozen of them broadcast nothing but an image filled with solid orange.
If you were to ask yourself, how could you take in all those images from hundreds of thousands of screens?
Of course, no one would ask such an absurd question… But the answer would be quite obvious.
With the help of hundreds of thousands of eyes.
But, of course, no one can have that many eyes, can they?
On one of the central screens, a recording was playing of a smiling man in a black coat.
His gaze was directed straight at the camera. As if he were speaking to the viewer…
But who could actually be watching him right now?
But
Who
Could
Actually
Know?
But
Who
Could
Know?
Who
Could
Know?
Who
Knows?
Knows.
Knows.
Knows.
"…Just as I said, didn't I? People always react the same way."
In response, something resembling a sound echoed through the dark space filled with hundreds of thousands of screens.
It sounded like a rasp… A rasp as if a long, sharp nail were slowly being drawn right across your heart.
He. Knows.