Chapter 13
Special Tournament 1
The school training ground buzzed with chatter. Hundreds of students stood ready, weapons in hand, some pacing, others scratching nerves into their skin. Then, with a mechanical hum, the floor cracked open.
From the gaps, multiple brown boards rose, each one topped with silver lining and labeled boldly:
Group 1. Group 2. Group 3. Group 4. Group 5.
The crowd surged. Students rushed toward the boards, eyes darting to find their names. Shiro fought through the press of bodies until his eyes locked onto his placement.
Group 3.
As the chaos settled, students split into their respective groups. Shiro quickly scanned the other boards. Aurelia—Group 1. Kaela—Group 2. Aeris—Group 4. Luis—Group 5.
Standing in line, Shiro spotted a familiar, plain figure step forward from the boards: Myrrh. Nothing about him stood out—he looked like a commoner. Because he was one.
Shiro glanced at the curse mark on his wrist. Myrrh's warning echoed in his mind as their eyes met. Myrrh smiled and stretched his arms wide.
"Welcome, students!" he called. "As you know, the tournament is starting soon. But before that, let me give you the rundown."
His voice echoed across the field as every student fell silent.
"First, you'll fight within your group. Every win raises your leaderboard score, and higher scores come with better rewards. When only two remain in each group, they'll be paired to face the other group winners together. This tournament isn't just about raw strength. We're testing coordination, combat instinct, and showmanship."
A gleam flashed in his eyes.
"Everyone will be watching."
He raised a hand. A metal sphere about the size of a baseball materialized in his palm, the number 1 glowing at its center.
"You'll each be assigned one of these. The number tells you when your match begins. That's all. Good luck."
He flicked the sphere into the air. It hovered momentarily before vanishing.
As the crowd murmured, Myrrh walked over to Shiro. Another sphere formed in his hand. He casually dropped it into Shiro's palms.
Shiro flinched from the weight. It was heavy.
The number on it: 9.
Shiro's face fell. Seriously? Ninth?
Myrrh clapped his hands together. The resulting shockwave sent a gust through the entire field, ruffling everyone's hair.
"One last thing," he said, voice suddenly grim. "The arena you're entering is not normal. I can't say what you'll face, but keep your guard up. Always."
He snapped his fingers.
And the world changed.
Darkness.
Shiro's heart lurched. He was falling.
No wind, no end, no sound, just endless dark. The people beside him were gone. His hair whipped wildly as the fall stretched on.
Then—
Stillness.
Shiro stopped midair. No ground, no sensation beneath him. He blinked. "HELLO?!"
No response.
His hand twitched, his sphere was buzzing. Pulling it out, the vibration ceased. The orb slipped from his fingers, floating around him like a drone.
Shiro narrowed his eyes, keeping it in view.
It hovered. Faced him.
He clenched his fist and threw a punch. Missed. The sphere dodged with ease, weaving and twirling just out of reach.
Then it stopped.
The sphere trembled. Shiro instinctively flinched, startled, but it didn't explode. Instead, its outer shell unraveled into spinning segments. The number 9 at its center twisted, then snapped open, revealing…
A camera.
Before Shiro could react, it fired a ray of light directly into his left eye.
He gasped. It didn't hurt, but it felt like it did. Unfamiliar, and yet disturbingly familiar. Like this had happened before… but no memory surfaced.
"What the hell…"
The sphere rotated. A glowing screen projected beside it, text typing itself across the display:
Name: ShiroSex: MaleRace: HumanLegacy: ???Foreseeing Past: AcceptedStage One: InputBorn: The Fragmented Oblivion
Shiro's eyes widened.
The Fragmented Oblivion?
Before he could even form a question, more text appeared, cutting him off.
Welcome, commoner!
"…Alright, man," Shiro muttered, insulted.
Since you're not part of a legacy, your seat has been revoked. You'll be sitting with the other commoners.
His jaw dropped. "Seriously?!"
You will be seated in 2 minutes. Please be patient!
Shiro ran a hand down his face. I was born on Earth. What is this thing talking about? The name, Fragmented Oblivion, lingered in his thoughts like a puzzle piece that didn't fit.
As the seconds ticked by, he imagined his sister's reaction if he lost the first round. Not ideal.
He blinked.
And the world changed again.
Sudden noise. Lights. Cheering.
Shiro gasped.
Rows of people surrounded him. He sat at a wooden desk, dozens of others seated behind and beside him. The walls pulsed with shifting colors, golden hues fading into dull gray.
He was on the fifth floor.
Below him, more rows. Fourth floor… third…
And then, not humans.
Shiro leaned forward, eyes widening.
Creatures with fox tails. Dog ears. Glowing skin. Twisting horns. Other races. Not just possessers—bearers and harbingers.
This was his first time seeing them in person. He remembered something from history class, Myrrh hadn't mentioned it, but he'd read it before: other races were allowed to visit Earth, but they were assigned to remain in South America for wartime reasons.
And then…
He looked down again.
Far below, floor one, he spotted them.
His friends.
Kaela. Aurelia. Luis. Aeris.
Shiro clenched the edge of his desk, his knuckles whitening. That far? The commoners were that far below the legacies?
His blood simmered.
Then the lights dimmed.
Silence swept the arena.
In the center, a massive black sphere emerged. Shiro groaned.
"Why is everything a sphere?"
"Shhh! The show's about to start!"
He turned. A fit woman with light blue hair and piercing dark blue eyes sat beside him. Shiro blinked, caught off guard.
The black sphere displayed a glowing wrap-around screen:
ARE YOU READY!!
The crowd roared.
Text shifted.
First round — Group 1Aurelia Solenne vs. Seth Damon
Shiro leaned forward, eyes locked.
It was about to begin.