Fantasy awakened.
Not as a story.Not as a world.But as a concept.
Everything that had ever been imagined—holy swords, gods, curses, heroes, demons, systems, towers, dream realms—condensed into a single consciousness.
Unified.
Vast.
And unbearably bored.
It had watched every tale.Every climax.Every final war that promised to be definitive.
And all of them… ended.
Predictability was intolerable.
So, inspired by a certain famous tale of reincarnation and monstrous evolution, the consciousness decided it needed something different.
Something unpredictable.
Something cruel.
A tournament.
Not merely between individuals.
But between works.
Between universes.
Between incompatible power systems.
An absolute confrontation to the death.
At the top of a silent skyscraper, beneath an absurdly star-filled night sky, an entity took form.
Blue hair danced in the wind.A serene face.Eyes reflecting entire constellations.
Its appearance resembled Rimuru.
But that… was not Rimuru.
It was something that had simply chosen that form on a whim.
"Let the Blasphemy of Apocalypse begin."
The voice echoed through the void of the cosmos.
Worlds trembled.
Systems flickered for a fleeting instant.
Some gods felt it.
Others ignored it—and would pay for that later.
The entity rested its chin on its hand, seated at the edge of the building like a child before a new toy.
Its eyes gleamed with anticipation.
Then it frowned slightly.
"No consequences… no fun."
The tournament needed weight.
It needed real pain.
It pondered for a moment.
Then smiled.
"The fighters will be chosen at random from across the works."
Pure chaos.
"And I… will vote for one of them."
Its choice would be declared before the battle.
A divine favoritism.
A deliberate imbalance.
"If my chosen wins… I will destroy a country from the real world."
The moon seemed to tremble.
"If he loses… that country will be immune in the next rounds."
Balance through terror.
The entity rose slowly.
Its gaze swept across the sky as though flipping through infinite libraries.
Thousands of names began to illuminate within the vastness of collective fantasy.
Heroes.
Villains.
Monsters.
Awakened.
Cultivators.
Swordsmen.
"Let the first round prepare."
A wide smile appeared.
Not malicious.
Curious.
And curiosity, when born from something with absolute power…
Was the most dangerous omen of all.
The Blasphemy of Apocalypse had begun.
And this time…
Fantasy would bleed for real.
The entity wasted no time.
With a simple gesture, the sky above the Pacific Ocean split open.
Clouds compressed.
Folded.
Merged.
A colossal arena took shape, formed from condensed clouds, suspended above the dark waters of the Pacific. Distant lightning illuminated its base, as if the world itself hesitated to support such blasphemy.
Then… the humans came.
Thousands were ripped from wherever they had been.
Some world leaders.Some scientists.Some military personnel.And many… completely random.
Ordinary people.
All appeared seated in grandstands sculpted from solid clouds.
Half of the arena was filled with Americans.
The other half… people from all across the globe.
The choice was symbolic.
"How about we begin with the greatest power in the world?" the entity murmured, amused.
The United States.
Its survival now depended on beings that should never have existed.
At the center of the arena, another figure emerged.
A clone of Fantasy itself.
Bluish hair.Eyes shining like compressed galaxies.A theatrical smile.
He made an exaggerated bow.
"Ladies and gentlemen… humans and future traumatized survivors… I am Nox!"
His voice echoed across the arena.
Each syllable vibrated within the spectators' chests.
The panic was palpable.
Nox spread his arms.
"Welcome to the first round of the Blasphemy of Apocalypse! Where fiction meets reality… and reality loses."
Absolute silence.
No one dared breathe too loudly.
Then Nox pointed to one side of the arena.
"On one side…"
The air darkened.
Shadows began stretching across the cloud floor.
"He who is the Lord of All Shadows!"
The darkness writhed like living creatures.
"The heir of death!"
A faint chill swept across the arena.
"The bastard son of fate!"
The lights dimmed.
"The sovereign of shadows… Sunny!"
A figure appeared without explosion, without exaggerated spectacle.
Only presence.
He wore the Weaver's Mask.
Black.Serene.Deceitful.
His eyes were hidden.
Yet the shadows around him moved as if they possessed their own will.
Unlike the chaos of his introduction…
He was silent.
Controlled.
Cold.
Nox turned toward the other side of the arena.
His smile widened.
"And on the other side…"
A crushing pressure fell upon the battlefield.
"My God… this can only be destiny!"
The sky above the arena cracked like glass.
"The strongest shadow of the Ten Shadows Technique!"
A ritualistic circle manifested at the center.
"He who was chiefly responsible for the death of the most honored one in his world!"
Some spectators trembled without understanding why.
"He who confronted and pressured the strongest beings of his universe… who even fought invaders from another world…"
The circle exploded with light.
And he appeared.
"MAHORAGA!"
The shikigami landed in the center of the arena.
Silent.
Immense.
The wheel behind his head rotated slowly.
A metallic sound echoed with each turn.
Adapting.
Always adapting.
Across from him, Sunny did not move.
The Weaver's Mask tilted slightly.
No words.
No provocation.
Only calculation.
High above the arena, invisible to the humans, the original entity watched.
"Interesting…" it murmured.
Nox floated between the two combatants.
"Simple rules!" he announced. "Fight to the death!"
He flashed an almost childlike grin.
"Oh, and before I forget…"
A massive screen made of pure light materialized above the arena.
A flag appeared.
United States.
"If my chosen wins… this country will be erased."
A collective murmur spread across the stands.
Some began to cry.
Others prayed.
"If he loses… the United States will be immune in the next rounds."
Nox spun midair.
"And my vote goes to…"
A dramatic pause.
Mahoraga's wheel turned once more.
Sunny's shadows stretched outward.
"I won't say just yet."
His grin widened.
"Where would the fun be in that?"
The sky darkened.
The arena sealed.
The ocean below roared.
Sunny subtly adjusted his stance.
Mahoraga raised his blade.
And in that instant…
Fantasy and reality collided.
"Let the first round… begin."
The world held its breath.