A hooded, seemingly faceless man held a smartphone in his hand. He stood within a black, congruent diamond-shaped room, facing its diagonal. His hands were gloved, and his entire body was covered by a black business suit.
On the walls of the room, a total of 1000 cameras lay, each showcasing the perspective of one player inside Endzone. 500 were on each of the two walls to the man's left and right, and converged at the diagonal he was facing.
However, not all of them were on. Instead, some showed a red, glitching skull, and nothing more. There was also one in the very corner that was different from all the rest. It was… empty. Simply a black void, like there was nothing there at all.
There were 999 players gathered throughout the world to participate in this game. However, there were 1,000 cameras in this room. Who was the 1000th player?
That was not important. Not yet, anyway.
Slowly, the man dialed a number in his hand and placed it against his ear. After several seconds, the call connected, and he spoke into the receiver.
"… Greetings, Chairwoman. I am here to make my report. A hundred of the 999 Survivors in this batch have been eliminated. There are exactly 899 players remaining."
"I see," a voice on the other end said after a while. It was a woman's—mature and alluring. "And? How many died from the Curse?"
"I am pleased to report that only 14 players fell into despair and succumbed to the Curse," the man replied in his deep, altered voice that sounded almost like a cyborg. "This year's batch is truly promising."
"Good, good…" The woman murmured in satisfaction. "What of 097? Is he still alive?"
"Yes, Chairwoman. Survivor 097 is still alive, and is ranked 4th amongst the players in terms of level as of current."
"Hoho… how interesting," the woman giggled softly, clearly intrigued. "Send me his background information later. Oh, and… link his camera feed directly to my room, along with the other top three in terms of level so far. I would like to witness their power."
"Understood, Chairwoman," the man said briefly. "However, I must mention… there is another who seems quite promising."
"Oh? Who?"
"Survivor 173. Ragnar Creed, also known as the Titan of Shadows on Earth. He was a Japanese supersoldier who was raised by the American military, and has taken down quite a few criminal organizations. However, he eventually went rogue for unknown reasons, and became a vigilante who hunts evil-doers on his own. He appears to be quite capable and intelligent, though not on par with 097."
"Hm… very well. Link his feed into my room along with the others, and send me his full background."
"Understood, Chairwoman."
With that, the man hung up, and within the mysterious Chairwoman's room in her own pocket world, she smiled ever so slightly, setting down her glass of the highest quality wine on the table beside her bed.
Soon, a notification popped up on her phone, and she opened it up to find two documents, detailing the backgrounds of 097 and 173 respectively. She didn't hesitate before opening them and browsed through the lines of text, smiling wistfully as she did so.
After several minutes, she was finished, and exited out of the documents.
"The number one assassin in the underground, Cyanide, raised to be the ultimate human being… and a dark vigilante of that same underground, the Titan of Shadows. Their battle could create quite the spark, if I do say so myself. But alas, unfortunately…"
She gave a sigh, as if thoroughly disappointed, and set down her phone.
"… I, Fate, have already chosen the final victor. And none, shall defy me."
Indeed, the champion had already been decided. Fate has rolled her dice.
Then again, neither Cyanide nor Ragnar have ever been the type to follow fate. Both have fought their way out of seemingly fatal situations, and both have accomplished what others would deem impossible. They were the two who defied fate over and over again, as if mocking her, laughing at her.
But this time, it was different.
This time, more than just themselves were on the line.
Fate had a task—and she needed someone to help her do it. Not two, just one.
Could Cyanide and Ragnar break free from their destiny and claw their ways out of the undying grasp of Fate, yet again?