[Troops deploying in ten minutes. Get ready!]
Heroes.
They had once been creeps—just like Adam and the rest of the terrified people around him. Well, not all of them were afraid. Some were eagerly anticipating their chance to become Heroes, just like the ones standing before them now.
After every battle, the Administrators calculated how much each creep had contributed to the Game and awarded them points accordingly—points that could be used to purchase Status upgrades.
Strength, Agility, Endurance, and Perception.
And once their total stats reach a certain threshold, 10, they would be reborn into something entirely new—a Hero.
The more they contributed during the Games, the stronger they would be upon their rebirth. The increase in power wasn't linear—it was exponential. A Hero's strength after transformation was incomparable to what they had been as mere creeps.
The type of Hero they became depended on their stat distribution and the actions they had taken in battle. While there were countless variations, six main archetypes defined them:
Marksman, Fighter, Vanguard, Assassin, Mage, and Support.
Of course, these weren't set roles at all and were just assigned by the masses, once again due to the influence of a certain video game, and everyone just adapted to it for convenience. Perhaps there was also the fact that if those watching treated it truly as a game, then they could escape the harsh reality even just for a moment.
And right now, standing before Adam were two newly arrived Heroes—one a Vanguard, the other a Marksman. It was obvious which one was which just from their equipment. Their names, glowing brightly, were displayed above their heads for all to see.
For creeps like Adam, the glowing symbol above their heads was a simple halo. But for Heroes, their names and titles hovered above them like divine proclamations.
[Hilda, The Forest Barbarian.]
[Muzan, The Moon's Arrow.]
It wasn't immediately clear to Adam whether Hilda was primarily a Fighter or a Vanguard. She wielded a massive hammer, yet she was also clad head to toe in heavy armor, making her just as suited for a vanguard.
As for Muzan—well, if the enormous bow strapped to his back didn't already mark him as a Marksman, then Adam's knowledge of the Game was even worse than he thought.
One thing he did know, however, was that once someone became a Hero, their strength and abilities remained mostly static—the only way to grow stronger was through better equipment, which they got from the monsters whenever there was a Leak, a portal that appears randomly anywhere in the word at a random time.
And like its name, it leaked the monsters that one could find in the Dome out into the public—and the only way to close it was to go inside and destroy the crystal within. Heroes are tasked to do this, but sometimes, veteran creeps join in too for the possible rewards.
And like everything else in the Game, Heroes were classified and ranked by the IBAA, starting from F-tier at the lowest and climbing all the way up to S-tier—the peak of power.
Well, whatever rank they were, Adam would do his best to stay away from them. From the way they carried themselves, it was obvious—they didn't care about the creeps.
The IBAA representatives stood before them, pleading, desperate for guidance. But the Heroes? They only laughed in response.
"Please! You have to command us—that's what we all practiced during the drills!"
Christopher, the team leader, fell to his knees before them, his voice laced with desperation. But his submission only seemed to amuse them further, their laughter growing louder, crueler.
Hilda sneered, swinging her legs off the hood of the car she had been lounging on. As she stood, the vehicle groaned under the sudden shift in weight.
"Were we part of those drills?" she taunted, tilting her head with a mocking smirk. Then, tightening her grip on the handle of her massive hammer, she added, "If you really want to be useful, go fight the Blue creeps when the Game starts—and then kill yourself. Just make sure at least one of you stays alive long enough for us to destroy the crystal."
A Hero would suffer continuous, critical damage from an enemy crystal's aura unless an allied creep was present within its range. At the same time, the enemy crystal would take increased damage depending on the number of allied creeps nearby. This mechanic prevented Heroes from simply blitzing across the battlefield and single-handedly destroying the enemy crystal.
Over the years, various strategies emerged to exploit this system. One of the more infamous tactics involved carrying a single allied creep into enemy territory to gradually chip away at the crystal's defenses. While effective, this strategy also left the attacking team vulnerable to counterplay, often creating openings for the opposing side to strike back..
Hilda didn't seem to care at all about any strategies, however, as she glared at Christopher and said, "Just do your job, IBAA. We'll do ours and see you on the other side."
Christopher flinched. He wanted to protest—to remind her that she had once been a part of those very drills before her transformation into a Hero. But the way her fingers curled around her weapon silenced him.
He could try and plead with Muzan, but he was known to be worse than her.
He may seem quiet and calm, but between the two, he was the one known to kill creeps of his own team, using them as target practice to warm up before the Game commenced. A complete psychopath.
The IBAA members quickly spread the warning about Muzan, whispering among the creeps, urging them to stay quiet. Some still wanted to protest, but their fellow creeps clamped hands over their mouths, dragging them away before they invited disaster.
But then—
One voice happened to slip through.
"Why aren't you helping us!? You're supposed to be Heroes!"
Everyone froze.
Thousands of people were there, but at that moment, not a single one breathed. The only sound that remained was the slow, deliberate footsteps of Muzan.
And he was walking toward them.
The crowd parted like water around a stone, the creeps instinctively moving aside, unwilling to stand in his path. Muzan strode forward, his expression unreadable.
Then, without breaking stride, he stretched out a hand to the side—
—And an arrow materialized in his palm.
"Which one of you said that?" He snarled, nocking his bow as he pointed to where the voice came from. Of course, as humans, the creeps all slowly turned their heads toward the man who spoke.
"W…what?" The man immediately stuttered when he realized everyone's attention was on him. But before he could even say anything else, a scream escaped his throat instead. The others also wanted to scream, but they stopped themselves… unless they also wanted their legs filled with arrows.
The man dropped to the ground, wailing in pain as he grabbed his legs, but he also quickly let them go, as no matter where he touched, an arrow was lodged into it.
They saw only one arrow leave Muzan's bow—yet by the time they blinked, dozens were already piercing the man's leg.
A child whimpered at the sight, but someone immediately covered his mouth when Muzan's eyes quickly landed on them.
These two Heroes were supposed to be on their side, and yet they just signed someone's death right in front of all of them. To cripple someone before the Game even started—such cruelty. It would have been better for them not to appear at all.
Muzan turned around and walked away, causing the crowd to let out a sigh of relief loud enough to drown the man's anguish. Their relief was short-lived, however, when Muzan suddenly halted and once again turned toward them. No, not to them—but to one single person.
Adam.
Adam tried his best to hide, and perhaps that's why he stood out. He was completely covered in clothes, and his head was even wrapped in a hoodie… and perhaps that was a very grave mistake.
"You. You're a scavenger, aren't you?" Muzan's fingers started twitching. He once again stretched his arm to the side to summon another arrow. All of a sudden, he was talkative, the bandages covering his mouth moving without pause as he said, "If there's one thing I hate more than a heckling creep, it's a scavenger. What kind of person would loot someone else's hard work, huh?"
As for Adam, well, he still remained quiet as he looked away from Muzan and turned his attention to the man he shot. He stared at the blood slowly trickling from all the holes in his legs before looking back to Muzan and saying,
"Please, don't shoot me." Adam's entire body began to tremble, his legs almost giving out. But... this wasn't fear. At least not from Muzan, no.
He looked Muzan straight in the eyes—and Muzan did not like that at all.
He immediately drew his bow again and pointed it at him. Still, Adam didn't look away. Instead, he let out a trembling sigh and whispered,
"But… but if you're still going to shoot me…"
Adam even stepped forward, not stopping until the head of the arrow was only a foot away from his head.
And ever so calmly, he leaned forward and rested the very center of his forehead on the tip of the arrow, and muttered,
"...Shoot here."