The dust of the first round had barely settled when the victory gong's echo was replaced by the sound of a sliding door being kicked open with unnecessary force.
The "Winner's Lounge" for the Anime faction was less of a tactical war room and more of a disaster zone. Gintoki Sakata was slumped on a velvet sofa, his feet on the table, desperately sucking the last drops out of a carton of strawberry milk.
"See? I told you guys," Gintoki wheezed, his voice cracking. "Old Gin-san has a golden eye for talent. I didn't even have to break a sweat. It was all part of the plan, definitely not a fluke."
"PLAN?! YOU WERE TECHNICALLY ASLEEP UNTIL THE FIGHT WENT SEROUS!" Shinpachi screamed, his glasses glinting with pure rage. "You almost let our entire existence be deleted because you were looking for a lost coupon in your pocket!"
Kagura was busy raiding the VIP buffet, stuffing three whole lobsters into her mouth. "Gin-chan just got lucky-uh-huh. If Kenshin-nii hadn't been so cool, we would have lost the first bout,"
In the corner, Himura Kenshin sat on a traditional mat, looking incredibly out of place. He was surrounded by his own world's companions—Sanosuke was slapping him on the back so hard Kenshin was coughing, while Kaoru stood by with a worried but beaming smile.
"I-I am just grateful I could be of service," Kenshin said, his face turning a light shade of red. "both of those fighters were truly formidable"
"Don't be so humble, Ken-chan!" Sanosuke laughed. "You showed those 'Real' humans and 'Movie' guys that 2D hearts beat the strongest!"
Suddenly, the door creaked open further. Toshiro Hijikata and Sougo Okita from the Shinsengumi leaned against the frame.
"Enjoy the win while it lasts, Yorozuya," Hijikata grunted, lighting a cigarette despite the 'No Smoking' sign. "The other factions are humiliated. They aren't going to send 'professionals' next time. They're going to send monsters."
Gintoki's lazy expression sharpened for a split second. "I know. That's why the next pick has to be... well, let's just say we're moving away from 'swords and honor' and moving toward 'pure nightmare fuel.'"
On the other side...
The air in the Cinema faction's room was cold. There were no shouts, no flying kicks, only the sound of a grandfather clock ticking and the crackle of a fireplace.
The Godfather sat in the shadows. Michael Corleone stood behind him, his face a mask of iron. Across from them sat Tony Stark and Sherlock Holmes.
"We lost a point," Michael said quietly. "The Cowboy was the best we had for a duel of that nature. The 'Anime' logic... it's unpredictable. They don't follow the laws of physics, even when the stats are equalized."
"It's not about physics," Sherlock noted, tapping his pipe. "It's about 'Narrative Weight.' The samurai won because his 'story' demanded a redemption. To beat them, we need someone whose story is about the inevitability of the end. Someone who cannot be bargained with."
Vito Corleone looked up, his eyes dark. "We treated the first round like a sport. A competition. That was my mistake." He looked at a folder on the table. It didn't contain a hero. It didn't even contain a human. "For the next round. Tell the selection committee... we are going to get our hands dirty."
In the Northern Balcony's inner sanctum, the atmosphere was funereal. Brunhilde stood before a massive holographic mural of Subutai. Below it, his name was glowing in a soft, mournful blue.
In stands
"He was one of the best of us," Leonidas growled, leaning against a pillar. "To lose the First Khan's Shadow... it is a blow to the gut."
Göll was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees. "Sis... the humans in the stands... they're scared. They are scared of their own creation and mind"
Brunhilde turned around. Her eyes were bloodshot, but her posture was regal. "They are the ones who *imagined* them. Every hero in those other rooms was born from a human brain. They are the source!"
She walked over to the terminal, her fingers flying across the names of history's greatest. She bypassed the kings. She bypassed the knights. She went deep into the records of people the world tried to forget—the ones who lived in the dark so the world could stay in the light.
"Subutai fought with dignity" Brunhilde whispered. "The next fighter... they will fight for revenge. Not just for our world, but for every 'ordinary' human who was ever looked down upon by a fictional god."
She slammed her palm against a name.
"Round Two," she hissed. "We don't play for honor. We play to win"
The Colossus groaned as the ground itself began to shift. The desert sand from Round One was being sucked into the floor, replaced by a dark, metallic grating. Rain—cold, artificial, and heavy—began to pour from the nebula ceiling.
The Commentator reappeared, his voice vibrating with a new, darker energy.
"WIPE THE TEARS! STOP THE CHEERS!" he bellowed. "ROUND ONE BELONGED TO THE WORLD OF INK! BUT THE TIDE IS TURNING! THE STAGE IS SET FOR A NIGHTMARE!"
"ROUND TWO... PREPARE YOUR SOULS!"
The Score: Anime 1, Movies 0, Humans 0.