The bell above the pawn shop door should have chimed. It didn't.
The sound that greeted Ren was older, like the hum of glass when you trace it with a wet finger. The air smelled of lacquer and dust. The racket still waited on its velvet stand, cracks glowing faintly, like veins full of stars.
Ren's throat was dry. "This is... crazy." His voice shrank in the quiet.
I should walk out. I should just... walk out.
The door behind him clicked shut.
The mural of the glass court on the wall shimmered. One by one, its inlaid tiles shifted until the court wasn't just painted—it was there. Depth where there should have been plaster. Net lines thrumming faintly. And the star above the net pulsed, alive.
Ren stumbled backward. His shoulder knocked the counter. The dust on the old bell puffed into the air. For an instant, the shop didn't look abandoned—it looked like it had been waiting.
Then came the voice.
Not from the bell. Not from the walls. From the space between Ren's thoughts.
"Tachibana Ren."
He jerked. "Wh—who—?"
"Substitute." The voice was not male or female, not old or young. It was as if a thousand stadium announcers had merged into one calm certainty. "The Chosen of this world is gone. Before the Olympiad, before the destiny could be fulfilled. The balance collapses."
Ren's heartbeat doubled. His fists clenched at his sides. "I'm... I'm no chosen anything. I can't even win at a park match."
The cracks in the racket flared brighter, like disagreeing.
"You stand after losing."
The words cut through him. He remembered rain-soaked trains, rejection texts, the taste of cheap coffee, laughter that didn't include him. He had always been standing, somehow.
"That is enough."
"No," he whispered. His throat was raw. "It's not. It's never been enough."
The mural's star widened into a doorway. The glass stretched, light pouring through. It wasn't harsh. It was invitation-colored, like the first time someone actually waves for you to join.
Ren's shoes squeaked as he shifted. "If I go... I'll just lose there too."
Silence. Then a single whisper, this time like his own voice answering himself:
"Lose for a reason."
His breath hitched. His vision blurred. If I keep losing here, no one even remembers. If I lose there... maybe it matters.
Ren lifted the racket. The handle fit his palm as if it had been carved for him alone. Light threaded up his arm. The mark returned on his skin—clear now, a star with a dot in its chest.
The shop collapsed into brightness. The counters folded like paper, the shelves stretched into distance, the bell above the door rang once and then became an echo that didn't stop.
Ren staggered forward because there was no backward anymore. The world tilted and reset. For a heartbeat, he saw stadiums rising like temples, a city built around courts of glass, people chanting not prayers but scores.
And then—
He fell.
When Ren opened his eyes, he was lying on a padel court made of crystal, under a sky that had three suns.
And standing above him was a figure cloaked in starlight—the Multiverse Keeper.
"Stand, Substitute," it said. "The Olympiad begins soon."
Meet the Characters :
Tachibana Ren
Role: Main Character / The "Hopeless Messiah"
Age: 23
Height: 175 cm
Nationality: Japanese
Personality: Awkward, stubborn, surprisingly insightful under pressure.
Background: An office worker from Earth, summoned into a padel-obsessed parallel world.
Special Traits:
Absurd learning curve Status Window: [Weak Spot Vision Lv.2] Thinks failure = EXP
Quirks: Constant internal monologues. Terrible at naming skills.
Hobby: None yet. Too busy surviving.
Birthday: March 8
Goal: First, to stop losing. Then, to protect someone.
Fun Fact: Famous for losing 0–6 on debut... but standing tall.
Racket Name: 「Fallen Star」
A cracked racket he discovered in a pawnshop, glowing with constellation patterns. Trait: Resonates with Survivor's Instinct, shining whenever Ren fights on the edge of despair.