Silence lingered in the arena. Thick. Breathless.
One voice. Then another.
And like a dam breaking, the crowd exploded.
Cheers roared through the stadium like a tidal wave. People stood, fists pumping, screaming at the top of their lungs as if their favorite team had just won a World Cup.
Holograms danced, lights strobed, and yet none of it could match the aftershock of what they’d witnessed.
A man who ended the match with one punch.
A punch that bent space itself.
From the commentator’s booth, the host forced a shaky laugh. "A-a-a-a-aand that’s a wrap, folks! Just like his last match—The One Punch Devil delivers!" His voice cracked with excitement—and fear.
Sweat dripped from his brow. "I swear, when that black hole started growing, I thought we were all done for..."
Laughter. Nervous. Wild.
No one really knew how to process what they’d seen.
Scouts and bettors alike leaned forward in disbelief. Some had come to analyze Dirga.
Gauge his potential for the Hell Roulette. But what could you measure when the result was total erasure?
He was still a mystery.
And now, a terrifying one.
Dirga stood in the center of the wreckage, calmly brushing dust from his clothes.
He turned and walked back through the wrecked ring tunnel. No triumph in his steps. No theatrics.
At the desk, a new cat-woman receptionist awaited him—this one far colder than the bubbly one from earlier. Her golden eyes blinked slowly.
"Hello," she said in a flat tone.
"Hey. I’m here to take my winnings," Dirga replied, handing over his ID card.
The scanner beeped. A number flashed across the console.
"Mr. Dirga, your reward totals 1,532 Gold. Would you like to schedule another fight?"
Dirga shook his head once. "No."
No fanfare. No follow-up.
He took the card back, pocketed it, and left the Gemspire Ring.
The city lights glimmered above Sector X—neon, flickering, half-sick and half-divine. Dirga didn’t care.
He returned to the inn. The same simple room. No meditation this time.
His body dropped into the mattress like gravity itself had claimed him.
And even in slumber, the embers of a black sun burned behind his closed eyes.
Dirga’s eyes opened—steady, focused.
The Hell Roulette would begin.
He rose without hesitation, gathered his belongings, and stepped out of the inn.
Sector X by day was a different world.
Where neon once screamed, silence now lingered.
The streets were hushed, draped in the afterglow of nightlife.
Only a few creatures shuffled about—some tending to broken signs, others dragging crates or cleaning alleyways, preparing for the chaos that would return after dusk.
He walked straight to the teleportation hub.
With a flash of Zarion, he vanished—
And reappeared in Sector A.
The shift was immediate.
From chaos to elegance.
The streets of Sector A were quiet in a different way—disciplined, orderly. Even the air smelled cleaner.
He made his way toward Sasa’s place—the elegant, ordinary-looking house that somehow felt out of place and perfectly fitting at the same time.
He entered without knocking.
Inside, Wish floated toward him, wings fluttering lightly, her tiny body glowing faintly with soft blue light.
"Hello, Mr. Dirgantara," she said with a gentle nod.
Before Dirga could finish, a familiar presence filled the room.
Not in his usual human disguise.
But in his rabbit form.
A rabbit’s head—sleek white fur, glowing red eyes.
The body of a man, dressed in a finely tailored black suit, hands in his pockets.
A predator masquerading as something absurd.
Nostalgia hit Dirga like a soft punch to the gut.
That ridiculous, terrifying look.
"Heading somewhere?" Dirga asked, a half-smile on his lips.
Sasa tilted his head slightly. "Yeah. Final preparations. Thought you’d like to see the stage before the blood starts flowing."
"Alright," Dirga said, setting his pack down by the door. "Let’s go."
Sasa snapped his fingers—
And the world folded around them.
When the spinning stopped, Dirga found himself standing in a grand hall.
The ceiling arched high above, supported by obsidian pillars that shimmered with Zarion threads.
Chandeliers made of ethereal crystal floated without chains, illuminating the space in haunting silver light.
The hall was massive—at least the size of a football field, maybe more.
But Dirga wasn’t alone.
Around him, hundreds of others stood, scattered in groups, duos, or
completely alone like him.
Every one of them radiated power.
Raw. Diverse. Dangerous.
He’d landed in the middle of the Hell Roulette’s battleground.
Before he could speak, a voice echoed through the chamber—
Not loud, but impossible to ignore.
"Welcome... all of you."
A spotlight flared to life.
A man stood in the center of the hall.
His skin was the color of dried blood, muscles coiled like a panther’s beneath a perfectly tailored suit.
His eyes burned like twin embers, tribal black patterns etched across his neck and arms like living ink.
And on his forehead, a third eye—closed, but pulsing with power.
"I am Asura," he said, voice cold and unyielding. "The organizer of this event."
"The Hell Roulette Tournament begins tomorrow. One thousand of you have been selected. Fighters. Monsters. Prodigies. Pariahs."
"You may form teams. Betray them. Fight alone. It doesn’t matter."
He raised one hand slowly. The air thickened.
"There will be only one winner."
The third eye on his forehead pulsed once.
"And the winner will receive one wish.
No limits. No cost. No deception.
It will become reality."
He said it as if stating the weather.
A new presence stepped into the glow.
The crowd buzzed. Some stared. Others gulped.
Or something like a woman.
Curved horns, glowing red with pink runes, curled from her forehead.
Skin—a soft pink that seemed to shimmer.
A tail flicked lazily behind her, tipped with a spade.
And her figure—absurd, exaggerated. Like some deviant artist’s fantasy come to life.
Her voice came sugar-sweet, soaked in seduction.
"Helloooooo, my lovely little murderers~!" she cooed, spinning in place like a showgirl.
"I’m Love, your official host and guide for this lovely little bloodbath!"
Her eyes sparkled with neon heart-shaped pupils.
"Now, before we begin... take a look around you."
The chandeliers exploded into full light.
One thousand participants.
The palace was alive with tension.
And the Hell Roulette had officially begun.