The second Sin walked out of the tournament server, he was tackled.
More specifically, he was punched in the arm by a very shiny man yelling:
"WHAT THE ABSOLUTE HELL WAS THAT?!"
Touch Me stood there, half-paladin, half-fuming older brother, gauntlet still smoking from the strike.
"You baited her," he said.
Sin blinked.
"Baited who?" he asked innocently, the glow behind his helmet flaring just a touch too smug.
"You baited your opponent for fifteen minutes just so you could get a dramatic anime comeback moment!"
"And?"
Touch Me stared.
"…AND?"
Sin's voice was calm. "Touch Me, my dear luminous friend. What is the point of a final if it's not dramatic?"
"Oh my god—"
"I was a fallen angel! An underdog in the world of gods! It was narrative gold."
"You're not even trying to hide it."
Sin chuckled. "Where's the fun in a one-sided massacre? Let the people feel something. Build some tension. Then... execute."
The rest of the guild clapped.
No, really.
They all started clapping.
Back at the clan base—a rented estate now too small for them, but full of chaotic charm—there was a massive banner across the top floor that read:
"SINNER OF ASGARD — THE JUDGEMENT HAS BEEN DELIVERED!"
It was clearly Peroroncino's doing.
There was even confetti.
Herohero brought virtual mochi.
Ulbert conjured a firework script in the shape of Sin's signature faceless helm.
Blue Planet had made him a title card that read World Champion of Asgard – Absolute Sin – The Glorious Bastard.
Touch Me was pretty sure it was meant as a compliment.
Everyone was in good spirits. Even Bukubukuchagama, usually the guild's voice of sanity, was screaming "GET THAT WORLD TITLE MONEY!" in all caps over voice chat.
"Alright," Ulbert said, clapping his demon claws. "Now that we have a Champion among us, tell us: what's the next build?"
Sin took a moment to answer.
Then, in classic Sin fashion, he dropped the calm tone and went straight into chaotic theatre.
"I want something cinematic," he said. "Dramatic. Villainous. Something that shows up mid-raid, slow-walks through fire, and tells the heroes they're too late."
"YESSSS," Peroroncino screamed.
"I want it to ooze dread. Not just because it's strong—because it knows it's strong. And because it makes other people panic."
"You mean like you did yesterday?" Touch Me deadpanned.
Sin ignored him. "This PvP build is amazing, but it's very 'Final Judgment.' Too pristine. Too divine. Doesn't match the guild vibe."
The entire voice chat burst into laughter.
"What guild vibe?" Tabula Smaragdina wheezed. "We're literally a bunch of unemployed monsters roleplaying as boss fights!"
"Correction," said Bellriver, "Touch Me has a job."
"And a girlfriend," Nearata added.
"He must be exterminated," Ulbert concluded solemnly.
"I am under attack," Touch Me muttered.
"You will ascend, brother," said Tigris Euphrates, placing a clawed hand over his chest. "To the realm of the double champion."
The rest of the night was chaos.
Herohero was drunk on fruit juice.
Yamaiko was teaching Bukubukuchagama how to make banners in the guild UI.
Garnet and Suratan had started a debate about whether Sin's new villain avatar should have two wings or twelve arms.
Beast King Mekongawa kept suggesting they name it "Daddy Sin" and was promptly muted.
Even Sin, usually the composed one, was laughing harder than he had in weeks.
The only serious thing was at the end—when the chat quieted, and Touch Me's match came up.
They all gathered in front of the tournament broadcast.
"Well," Peroroncino said. "No pressure, bro."
"But if you lose," added Ulbert, "our entire narrative crumbles."
"You'll be the only non-champion in a champion duo," said Variable Talisman.
"The imbalance will be shameful," said Temperance.
"You'll be the Sasuke of this guild," said Tabula Smaragdina.
"Please kill me," Touch Me muttered.
Sin just patted his armored shoulder. "We believe in you, man."
"…I'm gonna die."
Tournament Day – Touch Me's Final Match
Nine's Own Goal did not come to play.
They came to embarrass.
Everyone showed up. Everyone who could, that is. The only absentees were the unlucky ones with school, work, or actual lives. The rest? Present. Loud. And very, very visible.
And they had T-SHIRTS.
All of them.
Each one said something different.
"TOUCH ME OR DIE"
"OUR PALADIN, OUR HERO"
"HE'S GOT A GIRLFRIEND AND STILL SHOWED UP"
"GLORY TO THE GLOWSTICK KNIGHT"
"THE HERO COMPLEX IS REAL"
They had flags.
They had banners.
They had a custom support animation that played every time Touch Me's name appeared on the leaderboard.
"TOUCH US WITH YOUR LOVE!"
"TOUCH ME IN OUR HEARTS!"
"LET US BE CLEANSED BY JUSTICE!"
Touch Me stood at the arena entrance.
Dead silent.
Absolutely fuming.
Sin stood beside him, halo spinning smugly.
"Why?" Touch Me asked quietly.
"Hmm?"
"Why me? Why not you? They didn't act like this for your match!"
"I told them not to."
"You—YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE—"
"Good luck, champ," Sin said, pushing him gently forward.
Inside the arena, Touch Me calmed his breathing.
All jokes aside—he wasn't nervous.
He'd fought thousands of players. Raided against some of the strongest enemies in the game. Built his paladin-knight hybrid to cover every tactical angle. He didn't have Sin's mad genius or unpredictable mind, but what he had was heart.
And ridiculous amounts of defense stats.
It was time to show the world why a good guy didn't have to lose.
Outside the ring?
His guild of monsters screamed like cheerleader parents at a kindergarten play.
He would win.
Or he'd kill Sin when this was over.