The tension in the meeting room was suffocating. And a deafening silence filled the room.

"We need a plan," Ryan said, breaking the heavy silence. His good hand drummed anxiously against the table. "We can't just wait for the titan to arrive and hope for the best."

"What kind of plan?" Aria asked, frustration evident in her voice, "We don't even know anything about the tournament yet"

Just then

The door burst open.

A young man—barely more than a teenager—stumbled into the room, breathing hard. His eyes were wild with panic and disbelief.

"The screens!" he gasped. "Every screen in the city—they're all showing the same thing!"

Akhil was on his feet instantly. "What are they showing?"

"You need to see it," the young man panted. "All of you. Right now."

They followed him out of the meeting room, through corridors still bearing scorch marks from the recent battle, and into the main plaza. A crowd had already gathered, all staring up at the massive display screens that typically showed scenario announcements and player rankings.

But now, they all showed the same image.

An arena.

Not the destroyed battlefield where they'd fought Langdon, but something else entirely. Something magnificent and terrible. The arena was massive—easily capable of holding tens of thousands of spectators. Its walls were carved from white marble that seemed to glow with inner light. Golden banners hung from towering pillars, each emblazoned with symbols Akhil didn't recognize.

And in the center of it all stood a figure.

Jeren.

The broadcast showed him in perfect clarity—those ancient crimson and gold robes flowing elegantly around him, gold ornaments catching the light with every subtle movement. His white mask concealed his expression, but his eyes were visible, bright and unnervingly calm as they stared directly into the camera. Directly at them.

He held his ornate fan closed, using it to gesture gracefully as he spoke.

"Greetings, warriors of the game," his voice resonated through every speaker in the city, smooth and captivating. "I am Jeren, and I come bearing an opportunity that few will ever receive."

The crowd murmured nervously. Akhil felt his jaw tighten, instincts screaming that whatever came next would be bad.

"For too long, you have struggled in these scenarios without purpose, without reward worthy of your efforts. You fight, you bleed, you die—and for what? Mere survival?" Jeren shook his head slowly, as if disappointed. "No. You deserve more. You deserve glory. Recognition. Power."

He spread his arms wide, the fan opening with a sharp snap.

"I offer you a tournament. The greatest tournament ever conceived. Fight in my arenas, prove your worth, and the rewards will be beyond your wildest imagination." His eyes seemed to gleam brighter. "The gods themselves are watching. The victors—those who defeat me and my Ten Centurion Commanders—will be granted one wish. Any wish. By the divine powers that govern this world."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. One wish from the gods? That could mean anything. Escape from the game. Unlimited power. The resurrection of the dead.

"But that's not all," Jeren continued, his voice dropping to something more intimate, more tempting. "Those who fight well, who provide entertainment worthy of divine attention, will receive blessings. Powerful abilities. Enhanced attributes. Items of legendary quality." He gestured with his fan. "Even those who fall may rise again, stronger than before, if they please the gods sufficiently."

"He's lying," Nyla whispered beside Akhil. "He has to be lying."

But Akhil wasn't so sure. The way Jeren spoke, the confidence in his bearing—this wasn't a bluff. This was a merchant who knew exactly what he was selling.

"I know some of you may be hesitant," Jeren said, as if reading their thoughts. "So allow me to demonstrate exactly what awaits you."

He gestured toward the side of the arena. A figure stumbled into view—an adventurer, armor dented and dusty, weapons at his side. The man looked disoriented, confused, his movements stiff and unnatural.

"This brave warrior volunteered to show you all what my tournament offers," Jeren announced.

But Akhil saw the truth immediately. The adventurer's eyes were wide with terror. His mouth moved, trying to form words, but no sound came out. His body moved forward against his will, feet dragging as if fighting invisible chains.

"He's being controlled," Aria breathed in horror.

The adventurer reached the center of the arena and suddenly gasped, as if released from some invisible grip. He stumbled, catching himself, and immediately tried to run—

But stopped dead at the arena's edge, as if hitting an invisible wall.

"The arena cannot be escaped once entered," Jeren explained pleasantly. "Not until the match concludes. But fear not—you'll find the experience quite... enlightening."

A gate on the opposite side of the arena opened. Another figure emerged, and the crowd's murmuring grew louder.

This warrior was different. Taller, broader, moving with the confident grace of someone who'd fought a thousand battles and won them all. Armor covered in intricate engravings. A massive sword strapped across his back. Eyes cold and empty, devoid of mercy or hesitation.

"One of my Ten Centurion Commanders," Jeren announced with clear pride. "Each commands a hundred elite fighters. Each is a legend in their own right."

The adventurer in the arena backed away, shaking his head frantically. His mouth moved—"No, please, I don't want to fight, let me go, please—"

But no one could hear him. Or if they could, no one cared.

The Centurion drew his sword.

Then something happened that made everyone watching freeze.

A translucent screen appeared before the trapped adventurer—similar to system notifications, but different. More elaborate. More... ostentatious.

[DIVINE ATTENTION ACQUIRED]

[3 GODS HAVE TAKEN INTEREST IN YOUR MATCH]

[WAGERS HAVE BEEN PLACED]

The screen expanded, showing three distinct sections, each decorated with different divine symbols:

[God Poloneus - WAGER: 1000 DIVINE COINS]

[Odds: 47:1 Against]

[Blessing Offered: If you land three hits, receive "Storm's Favor" - Lightning enhancement for all attacks]

[Goddess Jayne - WAGER: 500 DIVINE COINS]

[Odds: 50:1 Against]

[Blessing Offered: If you survive five minutes, receive "Luck's Kiss" - Critical hit chance increased by 300%]

[Goddess Nova- WAGER: 2000 DIVINE COINS]

[Odds: 45:1 Against]

[Blessing Offered: If you draw first blood, receive "Crimson Rage" - All attributes doubled for remainder of match]

The adventurer's expression transformed before their eyes. Terror gave way to confusion, confusion to calculation, calculation to something that made Akhil's stomach sink.

Hope.

His grip on his blade tightened, 'If I get these rewards I'll be much more stronger!' The adventures eyes gleamed with greed as he looked at the centurion.

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