The lab had never known such silence. Its humming machines, the flickering lights, even the crackle of burning wires seemed to hush in reverence for the gathering inside.
The night before, Alexander had listened to Noah and Lucianne explain the state of the world where humanity was enslaved, fairy tales feeding on their very souls, the Grimms' iron grip, and the rules of the tournament.
Where Lucianne had expected disbelief or rage, Alexander simply leaned back, fingers tapping his chin, eyes gleaming with intrigue.
"So that is the game…" he had murmured. "A weekly battle, nicknames to shroud identities, a chance to bend the battlefield to one's will. And this… Golden Sphere of yours, a miracle tool to twist fate." He chuckled. "Interesting. Very interesting."
Then his expression sharpened.
"But tell me, will you only call forth these champions when their fight arrives?"
Noah frowned. "That was the plan. It spares us strain on the machine."
Alexander slammed his hand on the table, startling them both.
"Foolishness! A general does not throw raw recruits into battle without drill, without taste of the land, without preparation. You risk summoning men and women into a war they cannot comprehend. Shock will break their spirit before the enemy's blade does."
Lucianne blinked, realization dawning.
"You mean… summon them all now?"
Alexander leaned forward, his grin sharp, predatory.
"Yes. Bring them forth tonight. Let them walk this broken world, learn its air, its despair, and turn it into fire. Then, when battle calls, they will not stumble! They will strike."
Noah stared at him, stunned. He had never considered such a strategy. And yet… It was brilliant. It might break the machine as a whole but it is actually a very logical thing to do. They don't want to send the historical figures that have been chosen to a fight suddenly. Especially a war they supposedly do not have any relation to. What about if they say "NO" before the round begins and they will need to forfeit a round.
That very night, the time machine roared to life again and again, each use straining the laboratory walls, sending sparks crawling across the ceiling. One by one, figures emerged. Each cloaked in shadows, their forms hidden beneath dark hooded garments. Their faces were concealed, but their presence was undeniable, heavy, commanding, divine.
The next morning, the meeting room brimmed with tension.
Noah stood at the head of the table, flanked by Lucianne and Alexander. Before them sat twelve figures in silence, their hoods drawn low, their hands folded or gripping the table. The air buzzed with quiet menace, as though history itself had been distilled into this chamber.
Noah's throat was dry, but he forced the words out, reading from the list in his hand.
"Our thirteen champions… Humanity's last hope." He looked up, meeting the hidden faces before him. "We will confirm your names… or rather, the names the world shall know you by."
He inhaled and spoke with steady resolve.
"The Great Conqueror." Alexander rose slightly, the hood doing nothing to diminish his aura.
"The Wandering Blade." A cloaked figure with a hand resting on the hilt of a sword gave the slightest nod.
"The Holy Justice." Another figure shifted, the faint glimmer of a cross-shaped pendant slipping from their robes.
"The Maestro of Creation." The silhouette of slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, as if composing a symphony none could yet hear.
"The Witch of Science." Sparks crackled faintly beneath the table, hidden under the hood of another.
"The Unchained Gladiator." A deep, guttural breath filled the silence, the sound of shackles that were no longer there.
"The God of the Sea." Salt water dripped from the cloak of one figure, leaving a trail along the floorboards.
"The Sea Empress." Next to him, another figure leaned forward with the poise of royalty, her aura vast and unyielding as the ocean itself.
"The Hero That Killed The Conqueror." The tension spiked as all eyes turned toward this hooded one. Alexander's smirk widened, but he said nothing.
"The Guardian Demon of the Mapuche." A figure with shoulders like stone sat silently, but the weight of his presence was immovable.
"The Mozart with the Sword." A soft hum of a melody escaped this one's lips, interrupted by the faint metallic clink of a blade.
"The Eye of the World." A figure whose gaze, though shadowed, pierced through the room as if seeing more than just the present moment.
"And finally… The Dragon Heart Warrior." A strong fighting aura can be sensed from the mysterious figure, rumbled from the hooded warrior at the end of the table.
The room fell silent.
Noah lowered the list, his hands trembling.
"You are… all here. Thirteen champions. Thirteen final flames of humanity."
Alexander rose, his cloak swaying like a banner. His voice cut through the silence like a commander rallying his army.
"Look around you. These are not strangers. These are not relics of the past. You are soldiers of survival, conquerors of despair. The Grimms think themselves masters of this world and let us prove them wrong. Together, we shall carve humanity's name into eternity."
For the first time in months, Lucianne felt her chest fill with something she thought she had lost forever.
HOPE.
The day had arrived.
It is Friday of the first week of the Tournament.
The day which both sides reveal the nickname of the champion. Not fully revealed to still put out mysteries and guesses from each side.
Because there isn't any winner advantage custom arena yet so there isn't any arena reveal scene held on Thursday.
Every corner of the world or what was left of it was forced to look up. Fairy enchantments wove themselves into the skies, ensuring no eye could ignore the spectacle. Screens crackled on, radios buzzed, even shattered glass reflected the eerie glow. The Grimm Brothers had decreed that all would witness the reveal of the first fighters.
Within their marble throne hall, Leo sat poised, hands folded, while Hans sprawled across his chair, grinning like a child about to unwrap a bloody present.
In the underground bunker, Noah and Lucianne stood shoulder to shoulder, their hearts pounding as Alexander leaned against the wall, arms crossed, calm as a lion waiting for the hunt.
And in war rooms across the globe, leaders and generals crowded together in disbelief.
President Rondell Garth, the weary yet iron-faced leader of what remained of the Global Council, slammed his hand on the table.
"This is nonsense! Humanity cannot possibly send anyone. Historical figures cannot be resurrected. Even if such a machine existed, we would know about it! It would have been confiscated and dismantled long ago!"
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the council.
"This Noah is bluffing."
"This is suicide."
"He's throwing ashes into a storm."
But the air suddenly shifted.
It is Time for the reveal.
The sky shimmered as thousands of light-pixies swarmed upward, wings glittering like shards of stars. They whirled together in disciplined chaos, forming vast swirling patterns across the heavens. Cities in ruins, villages swallowed by darkness, even the smallest shanty towns. Every living being craned their necks to the sky.
The pixies snapped into formation.
And then, with a flash that seared the heavens, words blazed across the sky:
"The Great Conqueror vs The True King"
The world fell into silence.
In the slums, ragged survivors gasped.
"Conqueror…? Could it be… him?"
"No… impossible… that's a myth. That's history!"
In the war council, men and women who had once mocked Noah froze in disbelief. President Rondell's eyes narrowed, his voice a low growl.
"…The Great Conqueror. If this is truly who I think it is, then…" He trailed off, refusing to finish the thought.
In the Grimm throne hall, Hans erupted into laughter, clapping his hands so hard the sound cracked like a whip.
"OH, PERFECT! You dragged that arrogant little Macedonian out of his grave! I LOVE IT!"
Leo's smile was thin, but his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"An appropriate start. But against our champion…"
His words trailed off as across the Land of Tale, creatures roared with excitement. Witches shrieked, wolves howled, trolls pounded their fists.
"The True King!"
"Our sovereign!"
"The fairy tale born to rule!"
In the bunker, Noah's stomach sank. He clenched his fists as the nickname of their opponent burned across the sky.
"The… True King…"
Lucianne's voice trembled.
"Who… Who could that be? The Lion King? Or… something worse?"
Alexander stepped forward, the glow of the sky reflecting in his sharp eyes. He smirked, utterly unfazed.
"A king, is it? Then fate is generous. For only a king is worthy to fall before a conqueror."
He adjusted his crimson cloak, rolling his shoulders as though already preparing for battle. His voice was calm, but thunderous.
"Let the world watch. Let them see the first stone cast. Whether fairy tale or flesh, I shall crush this 'True King' and remind them all… history bows to me."
Saturday has finally arrived. The day where the duel to death between humanity and folktales finally starts.
The Grimm Brothers had promised the world a spectacle, and they delivered.
The sky tore open in a jagged streak of light. Across the heavens, a spinning wheel of iron and bone appeared, its spokes glowing with shifting runes. The "Wheel of Fate," Hans had called it, laughing like a child with a cruel toy. With a deafening screech, the wheel spun wildly, its symbols flashing from forests, oceans, mountains, palaces, deserts, even entire cities.
The world held its breath.
Finally, with a thunderous CRACK, the wheel stopped.
A wave of magic thundered through the earth. The chosen location erupted into existence as an ancient coliseum, larger than any in Rome's memory. Its stone walls glowed with fairy fire, scarred with cracks, but towering impossibly high. Statues of long-forgotten kings and monsters circled the arena, their eyes alive with cruel anticipation. The ground was paved with jagged sand, tinged red as though soaked in centuries of blood that had never dried.
From every archway, creatures poured in. Wolves with fangs like swords, armored giants, porcelain princesses with glassy eyes, witches riding winds of flame. They filled the stands, howling, screeching, clapping. Their excitement was deafening. A living storm of hunger and anticipation.
In scattered corners of the stands, small groups of humans huddled together. They were frail, ragged, hiding beneath cloaks. Some had been forced to attend by the Grimms' decree, others had risked everything just to see if humanity's gamble was real. Their eyes trembled between fear and hope.
On glowing screens in the human ruins far away, survivors watched too. In dark basements, children clutched their parents, whispering prayers. Soldiers hiding in collapsed bunkers leaned forward, fists clenched.
"Please… Please let this be real…"
The first arena of the Humanity vs Fairy Tale Tournament revealed itself.
At the very top of the coliseum, two grand VIP sections faced each other.
On one side, thrones of black stone and silver vines spread like a twisted garden. The Grimm Brothers sat upon them. Hans lounged, legs draped over the armrest, licking his teeth as he stared at the arena. Leo sat upright, regal, his golden eyes cold and sharp. Behind them stood generals of tale — knights without faces, queens with eyes like mirrors, all awaiting their masters' command.
On the other side, a single high platform of iron and glass had been prepared. Noah and Lucianne stood there, their coats flapping in the bitter wind. Their place was nothing compared to the Grimms' grandeur, but it was high enough to see everything.
Noah gripped the railing with white knuckles. His chest pounded, not just with fear but with the unbearable weight of the moment.
"This is it… Humanity's first step."
Lucianne swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the sand below.
"If Alexander falls… then all hope will crumble before it even begins."
Noah adjusted his glasses, trying to hide the sweat rolling down his temples.
"No. He won't fall. He can't. Humanity's story doesn't begin with defeat."
From across the arena, Hans' sharp laugh carried through the air, reaching even their platform. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted mockingly.
"HEY, LITTLE HUMANS! ENJOY THE VIEW! IT'S THE LAST HOPE YOU'LL EVER HAVE!"
Leo silenced him with a wave, his gaze locked onto Noah.
"…Let us see if your ghosts can fight, scientist."
A low, resonant hum filled the arena. Runes carved into the coliseum walls flared with light. The time had come.
A booming voice, neither human nor fairy, echoed through the air.
"Round One. The Great Conqueror… versus… The True King."
The crowd erupted, shaking the very stone.
Noah and Lucianne both froze, hearts pounding.
One hour remained before the match began.
One hour before history and fantasy would collide.