The 9th World Champion Tournament 3

"Well... that just happened." Touch Me muttered, his voice trailing off.

Touch Me tuned out the noise from the stadium as he let out a small breath, shaking his head. It seemed the organizers had some fun picking this year's shoutcasters while also expanding their materials. It was a bit too existential for his liking, but oh well.

Located above the primary section of the colosseum was a luxurious VIP area that connected to the upper part of the stadium. It overlooked the entire arena and audience below, granting the most prestigious seats in the entire venue. The interior was lavish and extravagant, befitting their status. It was here that he and the other World Champions would bask in comfort while watching the thrilling matches unfold.

The paladin leaned against a guard rail, shoulders slouched, and his eyes searching through the large, immaculate windows in hopes of finding his friends from Ainz Ooal Gown among the ocean of Players seated down below.

When the guild reached the colosseum, the group separated and were ushered toward their respective destinations. While Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi were shuffled away to be checked in, the rest of Ainz Ooal Gown found their seats. Touch Me was escorted to where the other World Champions were gathered in preparation for the opening ceremony. The tournament opened up with a grand premiere, showcasing the eight current World Champions and making a spectacle of it to drum up excitement and rouse the audience for the coming fights.

Following the conclusion of that, Touch Me intended to join up with the rest of his guild in cheering Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi on throughout the tournament. Unfortunately, those plans were dashed when he was informed by a GM, or perhaps it was more accurate to say he was ordered to remain in the VIP area for the duration of the entire tournament, much to his confusion and inner chagrin.

It brought the mood down for him, knowing he couldn't be with his friends.

"My, my, to think I would see the day where the great and unflappable Touch Me-san brooding. I must be dreaming." Said a playful voice beside him.

"I'm not brooding." He returned defensively, turning around as he leaned comfortably with his back against the guard rail.

A hint of a smile touched Touch Me's lip as he regarded his fellow World Champion.

LichtKing – Lvl: 100 — The Saint's Blade Devastator [The World Champion of Vanaheim]

The Player bore a similar aesthetic to Touch Me, donning a full suit of armor that exuded the regal aura of a mighty golden knight. The smooth, heavy armor was bedecked with exquisite emerald accents and silver holy iconography that ran down the length of his armor. One of his pauldrons was decorated with a striking lion design that roared with fierce intensity, while the other bore a sword and shield. The motif of wings was beautifully etched onto his chest plate, which lay underneath his silver surcoat. Despite the stillness of the air, a white cape billowed behind him, much like Touch Me's own crimson cape. The Player's majestic lion's helm was etched with a look of stern determination that exuded power. Nonetheless, despite the Player's fearsome appearance, one could perceive an air of warmth and congeniality emanating from his avatar.

In one of his hands, he carried a large cross-shaped white and gold tower shield that stood almost as tall as he. One that sheathed a powerful two-handed greatsword inside it that he was known to wield with a single hand alone with incredible ease, the hilt of which could be seen protruding from the shield.

"Lay off the old man, LichtKing-san. You know how sullen people can get with age." A third voice teased, joining the conversation and accompanied by the jingle of a chime.

Touch Me let out a huff, turning with a flat gaze toward the source with wry amusement.

"I see that attitude of yours is still as flippant as ever, Duskindal-san."

Duskindal – Lvl: 100 — The Spectre of Nevermore [The World Champion of Helheim]

The Player was tall and lanky, possessing a slender build that lent him an air of lithe grace. Much of his body was obscured by the voluminous shadow cast by his cloak, which was composed of sharp, obsidian feathers from the common raven that draped over one side of his shoulder. Beneath the cloak, the portion of his body that was visible was adorned with lightweight but durable leather armor, crafted from the hide of a legendary mob known as the Dragon-Fanged Basilisk. The armor was expertly crafted, with each piece fitting seamlessly with the others to provide maximum protection without hindering movement. Peaking from his cloak were the hilt of two short swords strapped to the small of his back that he could reach back and unsheathe in an instance, and fitted across his body were a multitude of sheathed daggers.

The assassin could almost be called human were it not for the ghastly grayish hue of his skin. His striking appearance was dominated by a large, malevolent eye that seemed to move with a mind of its own, situated right in the center of his forehead. The dichromatic hair on his head was cut short, featuring a bold combination of dark blue and roguish purple, intermixed in a way that made it hard to look away. Darkened veins pulsed across his face and eyes, adding to the ominous expression on his sharp, cocky grin. Completing his ensemble was a solitary earring that dangled from his left ear, featuring a small bell that chimed with his every movement.

Duskindal walked forward and gave a playful bow, one full of theatrics, his cloak billowing, followed by another chime and the reveal of a dark and fleshy hand. A cursed hand with unique abilities to call its own.

"Don't sound disappointed, my friend. You'll break my poor little heart talking like that." Duskindal offered the paladin a cheeky, smiling emoticon.

"You have a heart? Color me surprised." LichtKing ribbed.

"Indeed, I do!" The assassin returned. "I keep it in a jar for safekeeping, right next to my secret stash of peanut butter. Want to see?"

"Is that truly such a surprise, Touch Me-san? We all know this man-child refuses to grow up. It's quite doubtful that he'll start now." Said another, curtly.

Strutting past the trio and giving the theatrical assassin a particularly haughty look was Belladonna, the first female World Champion.

Belladonna – Lvl: 100 — The Bewitcher of Avarice [The World Champion of Jötunheim]

With an air of elegance and confidence, Belladonna's avatar commanded attention with her icy and peerless beauty that could never be attained by mere mortals. Her countenance was one of arrogance and superiority; her deep amethyst eyes pierced through all who dared to meet her gaze. She was wrapped in a long and eloquent flowing onyx-black gown and adorned with intricate purple and golden accents that added a touch of glamour to her attire. The garment flowed gracefully around her silhouette, matching her silky, smooth raven-black hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of shadows. Atop her head, a thorny ivory circlet rested, adding a regal touch to her already impressive ensemble. Her long black gloves were a perfect match for the gown, and the intricately designed masquerade mask that covered her left eye only added to the air of mystery to her fabulous wardrobe. Against her pale blue skin, the contrast of her sharp features only served to enhance her beauty further.

Her pigmentation and long ears easily classify her as an Elf, a Fel Elf to be exact, a sub-species of the popular elven Humanoid race. On one of her hands, she wore a golden claw-tipped glove, while on the other, she wore five beautiful rings, one for each finger.

Adorned at her waist were four sheathed swords, two elegantly placed on each side in a balanced fashion. The swords were single-edged with a subtle curved blade, resembling dueling sabers. The hilt of each sword was fashioned into a crescent-shaped guard. The hilt possessed a spiral-curved design that stretched along it, with a trigger located between the hilt and guard. This trigger, when pressed, infused a torrent of elemental damage that added a deadly edge to each of the sword's strikes.

A known fact about her was that she possessed the remarkable ability of being ambidextrous and was also a highly proficient juggler. A seemingly innocuous fact, until one takes into consideration that she employs them in her combat style. During combat, she has been recognized for her unmatched prowess in wielding all four swords simultaneously while expertly juggling them in a mesmerizing manner, creating an intense and formidable tempo that overwhelms her opponents.

Belladonna was arguably the single most skilled duelist in all of YGGDRASIL. In one-on-one combat, her movements were nothing short of graceful, and her skill, unparalleled. However, all of this pale in comparison to her sharp tongue.

"One can always hope, Belladonna-san." The paladin replied, shrugging. "Stranger things have happened before."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to keep on hoping, then. But I wouldn't hold my breath on it. After all, I read somewhere that perpetual childishness and refusal to grow up are attributed to a mental disorder. He's probably beyond our help." Another replied dismissively, earning an indignant 'Hey!' from Duskindal.

"Now, now, Hime-chan, there is no need to go after the poor man like that." A fifth voice placated.

The two that spoke were the World Champions of Niðavellir and Niflheim, respectively.

Touch Me glanced over to the resident 'princess' of the group.

ShikiHime – Lvl: 100 — The Rebellious Iron Maiden [The World Champion of Niðavellir]

ShikiHime was the second female World Champion and, among the group, the most striking and unique in terms of appearance. Her avatar model was a perfect fusion of flesh and synthetic. The result was a smooth and slick skin tone with a distinctly technorganic feel. She donned a futuristic attire, sporting a slick monochrome bodysuit that covered her entire body, closely protected by a formfitting exosuit. The exosuit boasted two repulsors on her arms and a long skirt around her back, leaving her front unobstructed. The suit was marked by multiple, pulsating neon streaks overlaying her body and suit, with some running along her smooth and flawless synth skin. On her back were two hexagonal indentations that could unfurl to produce wings made of hard light, granting her the ability of increased speed and flight. Lastly, she wore an open-cropped white jacket that had a green luminescent collar that glowed brightly.

Her neon hair was tied into long twin-tails that rotated through a spectrum of colors every second, while her cyberoptics dazzled with a gradient of pastel rainbow hues. To complete her look, she wore a glowing crown in pink and gold that floated impeccably above her head, complimenting her Hime namesake.

ShikiHime stood out not just because of her vividly colorful appearance, but also because of her petite stature when compared to her peers. However, don't let her small size fool anyone. What she lacked in height, she more than made up in power.

She had a powerful handgun securely holstered at her waist. However, her ultimate weapon of choice was the sonic axe, a large mechanical single-bladed hacket axe that stood taller than her small frame. The battle axe was equipped with a trigger that, when pressed, unleashed a shockwave through an electric current, augmenting the power of her strikes. ShikiHime was well-reputed for her speedy playstyle, effortlessly zipping through the air, and her prowess to cleave Players in twain with a single swing of her trusty weapon.

"Why not? He deserves it." ShikiHime said unapologetically to her fellow World Champion.

"We all have our quirks, after all. You wouldn't like it if someone else were to make fun of you out of nowhere, you would?" The World Champion of Niflheim mediated.

The metal maiden only huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Thank you, Mercí-san! You truly are my only friend in this den of bullies! You're the only one I can rely on!" Duskindal slid to his side, throwing himself onto the man. A tearful emoticon appeared over the assassin as he wept on his shoulder.

The rest of the World Champions either scoffed, rolled their eyes, or shook their heads at his antics. Wishful Mercí only patted his back while Duskindal cried crocodile tears.

Wishful Mercí – Lvl: 100 — The False Spiral Empyrean [The World Champion of Niflheim]

Wishful Mercí bore the appearance of an archetypical angelic being of remarkable grace and elegance. The Player was clad in white, silken robes, overlayed by intricate, glittering silver and grey armor. They were interwoven majestically, granting him the divine form of both scholarly wisdom and martial prowess. At his waist was a tome of great significance, its dark cover embellished with metallic beveling that glistened in the light. The cover depicted a triangle with all three points enclosed in a circle, a symbol of profound significance to those who knew its meaning. Though he was an Aerosphere, Wishful Mercí was no ordinary angel. He was neither of the pure white nor of the darkened fallen, like the rest of his brethren. He was a grey angel, one with twelve ashen wings that extended from his back. Above his head hovered a stark grey halo, a symbol of his otherworldly power and authority.

This duality extended to his weapons. The angelic warrior held two spears, one made of brilliant, golden marble that glimmered with a divine radiance. The other was a bident with a deep crimson hue, featuring a clear double-helical shape that ran the length of its shaft. The double-helical shape was tightly coiled before gradually splitting apart to form two sharpened tines. They were a holy and cursed weapon, respectively.

An angel he may be, but he was quite the terror on the battlefield. Wishful Mercí possessed an unrivaled mastery of flight combat, enabling him to effectively dominate the battlefield regardless of whether it was in the sky or on the ground. When fighting against him, his dual spearmanship was so incredible that it was often likened to battling two opponents at once, leaving little hope for any opponent to match his prowess in a direct confrontation.

Touch Me couldn't help but chuckle along. His eyes swept over the group before drifting to one of the two remaining Players who had remained silent throughout.

Of course, he knew that for one of them, it wasn't strictly by choice.

"It's never a dull moment with him, huh, V-san?" Said Touch Me.

The Player, Elementum V, nodded.

Elementum V – Lvl: 100 — The Nine Sage Elementalist [The World Champion of Asgard]

Sitting in his seat, though it would be more appropriate to say floating above where he sat, was the World Champion of Asgard. His posture was that of perfect alignment, his crossed legs in a meditative stance as he levitated in a manner that defies earthly bounds. A vibrant set of martial robes adorned him in a way that was both striking and comforting, the fabric draping elegantly over his sculpted frame. The robes was open at the center, revealing a glimpse of his chiseled chest, and the material seems to caress him with a palpable sense of ease. A hood conceals his face, save for two radiant golden orbs that serve as his eyes, glistening with an otherworldly energy. He wielded a pair of powerful and intricate-looking golden gauntlets, each adorned with delicate silver accents that ran down their sides. At the knuckles of one gauntlet was the ornament of a dragon, while the other bears the likeness of a tiger, each symbolizing a different facet of his power.

Surrounding him in an 'X' formation were numerous orbs, each pulsating with a unique color and elemental force. They seem to hum with an almost tangible energy, representing fire, water, lightning, earth, wind, ice, and more - each one a potent force in its own right.

Elementum V didn't verbally respond, not due to a lack of desire but rather because he couldn't. The Player was mute. A screen appeared with text on it, for this was how he communicated, along with liberal usage of emoticons to help convey what he wanted to say. He showed Touch Me an emoticon shaking his head and another one laughing with its hand waving.

Touch Me chuckled, catching the meaning.

"Oi! I heard that! Touch-san, V-san; I see you two conspiring over there. What the heck are you two up to, hmmmm?!" Duskindal popped in, bringing the conversation to them and everyone involved.

For the moment, all was going well as the Players chatted and enjoyed themselves. A levity that lasted until their final member made his presence known.

"Shut up." A voice growled. "You're all annoying."

Touch Me's smile quickly dampened upon hearing this. The whole mood of the room dipped; the once-amiable atmosphere was replaced with something more strained.

All eyes turned to the final occupant. A single Player sat all by his lonesome in the far corner, content to ignore the world around him. Until now.

He was undoubtedly the most well-known and contentious of the World Champions. A name all knew of and echoed by all in scorn and fear alike. The Archfiend, Luciferno.

Luciferno — The Calamitous King of Wrath [The World Champion of Múspellsheim]

For one to bear such a fearsome reputation, his character model more than complemented his image. Luciferno was a formidable sight to behold. His avatar held a sharp and predatory visage that was a cross of both the demonic and the draconic, with slit eyes of pale gold and a permanent cold sneer etched on his face. His neck revealed fur, spiked and coarse, that appeared to be made of blackened scales with crimson marks. Two menacing and sharp forward-facing horns protrude from the parietal ridge of its head, adding to the demon's intimidating appearance.

Luciferno's frame was mostly concealed by his tough obsidian and crimson wings, which seemed to wrap around the draconic demon like impenetrable armor. Despite their dull crimson hue, they emitted a blistering heat just below the surface, as if they were on the brink of igniting at any moment. Peering through the small gaps in the wings, one could catch glimpses of the rest of the demon's attire. He wore a heavy set of armor, dyed with muted bronze and brass tones and tinged with bleeding gold. The shoulder guards and chest piece were adorned with the striking design of a vicious sharp-toothed, devouring maw, encapsulating the edge of the armor. A pitch-black mantle hung from his broad shoulders, appearing as if it was crafted from the darkest recesses of the night. The sigil of a sun with three claw marks slashed across it, his emblem, was emblazoned on the back of the cloak. Lastly, a bright, blood-red halo floated above his head, bearing a crest that represented his sin: the Crown Sin of Wrath.

His infamy started well before his rise as a World Champion. Before Luciferno was a World Champion, he was among the few who possessed the ultra-rare caster class: [World Disaster]. A powerful job class that was considered the magic caster equivalent of [World Champion]. However, that wasn't enough for him.

It remains a mystery as to why he relinquished his former title of "World Disaster" and embraced the path of a warrior. Nevertheless, he proved his exceptional skill and ferocity to the world when he ascended as the World Champion of Múspellsheim.

However, what truly cemented his notoriety throughout the nine realms was his transformation into a World Enemy by means of a World Item. This transformation resulted in him becoming one of the Lords of the Seven Deadly Sins, specifically the Lord Sin of Wrath.

A feat all considered impossible and inconceivable until he went and did it. An achievement that has never been seen or replicated ever since. Only Luciferno possessed the secret of how it could be done and which World Item was required, but that was a secret he would take to his grave.

Luciferno's skill and strength were already insane due to him being a World Champion. As a World Enemy, his power rose to heights beyond measure.

Luciferno's appearance now was a downsized version of his true form. In his true boss form, he was colossal in scope and wreathed in hellish fire that burned the very air itself. Although it wasn't present, he was known to wield two devastating weapons, one in each hand. One was a gigantic, twisted black sword engraved with blasphemous runes that glowed with an unholy light. The second was an enormous, wicked waraxe forged of bronze and brass with chainsaw-like blades running down the weapon's edge.

He couldn't even be considered a Player anymore, as evident by his lack of a level indicator and his unique red gamertag, and was more like a natural disaster given form.

And rounding out their ensemble was none other than the self-proclaimed Hero of Justice himself:

Touch Me – Lvl: 100 — The Silver Paladin of Justice [The World Champion of Álfheim]

And so, on this day of the 9th and final World Champion Tournament, all eight World Champions were gathered together at last.

Back when Luciferno joined them in the VIP room, all of them couldn't hold back their surprise at seeing the World Champion of Múspellsheim present and accounted for. This was due to Luciferno's propensity of leaving as soon as the ceremony was concluded or avoiding the event in its entirety altogether.

With such a departure from the norm, they could only assume that the GMs or developers had a hand in this.

The others glanced at one another in quiet uncertainty. His presence presented a dilemma for the World Champions. Due to his prickly attitude and reputation, he was a stifling individual to be around. He kept to himself, keeping silent behind a veil of contempt, almost as if it physically ails him to interact with others and any attempts were met with caustic responses. He embodied the very definition of antisocial and reminded Touch Me of a more extreme version of Ulbert.

As such, the group often resolved this issue by allowing him his space and choosing not to bother him.

Most of the time anyhow, as in this moment, however, a certain playful assassin was feeling particularly bold.

"Well, isn't this a surprise?"

'Oh no...' The other World Champions had the same thought as they watched Duskindal make his merry way over to Luciferno. They already knew that what was going to happen was going to go poorly.

"He speaks! And here, I thought we might've had two mimes in our colorful troupe instead of one. Meaning no offense, of course, V-san."

Elementum V flashed an emoticon flicking its hand dismissively and a second one giving a thumbs up, showing that he didn't take any offense.

"How've you been, ol' buddy, ol' pal, ol' chum, ol' dilio? We haven't heard from you in ages! You never write, never call, or anything! Why, it's almost like you hate us or something!" His tone was light and teasing.

Duskindal plopped onto the seat next to Luciferno, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and bringing the two closer.

The walking disaster didn't waste a single second, smacking the offending arm away with a growl of utter contempt. He grabbed Duskindal by the front and violently yanked him out of his seat, throwing the World Champion of Helheim out of his seat and onto the floor.

Despite being on the receiving end of such aggression, Duskindal remained nonchalant.

"Well, that was rude." He quipped from his position on the floor.

The manufactured World Enemy loomed over Duskindal, glaring balefully down at the assassin.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." He snarled, emphasizing every word with unrestrained disdain.

"That's quite enough."

Touch Me stepped forward, standing between them.

The World Champion of Álfheim and Múspellsheim confronted one another, Touch Me with a firm stare, and Luciferno with a withering scowl.

Behind him, Elementum V offered his hand and pulled Duskindal back up to his feet. The rest watched, silent but cautious, just in case something were to break out.

"Duskindal-san." Touch Me softly chided without turning his gaze away from the demon lord.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. That's on me. Sorry." The stealthy World Champion easily conceded, throwing both hands in surrender and backing away.

"Luciferno-san. While Duskindal-san was partially in the wrong, that doesn't mean you're in the right for what you did either. The issue could've been resolved by simply talking it out."

"What gives you the right to order me around, trash?" Luciferno hissed, jutting one of his bladed fingers harshly against Touch Me's smooth chest plate.

"I'm merely voicing an alternative." The silver paladin offered smoothly. "There's no need for hostility between peers here."

A tense and silent stare-down unfolded between the two World Champions. Neither of them gave in to the other's intense gaze, both standing tall and firm. They were like two towering titans, each refusing to back down.

Touch Me could feel the heat behind the vitriolic glare oozing from the Sin of Wrath, yet he weathered it like it was nothing. Compared to what he faced for years on a daily basis from his best frenemy, Ulbert Alain Odle, he'd certainly faced worse than a scornful Player. Even one as powerful as a World Enemy.

Luciferno broke first, after what felt like a small eternity. He let out a contemptuous scoff, his gaze sweeping over him and the others briefly. He turned away, purposely smacking the silver knight's shoulder in a show of contempt as he pushed past Touch Me.

"If it weren't for Zelretch threatening me with deleting my account, I wouldn't have bothered being in the same room as you waste of fucking space." He said this, glancing over his shoulder. His pale golden eyes held nothing but contempt for not only Touch Me but the rest of the World Champions.

A palpable tension filled the air as the Heteromorphic Player's words provoked glares and frowns from the other World Champions. Luciferno, unbothered by their reactions, sauntered to the opposite side of the room to take a seat. He paid them no mind, as if they were ants beneath his feet, beneath his notice.

Right, that was another thing that worked against him. The man simply held absolutely no respect for anyone.

Much of his notoriety stemmed from the fact that Luciferno was exceedingly arrogant, insufferably so, valuing a Player's worth solely on their skill and strength in the game. Those weaker than him or those whom he perceived as inferior, he callously disregarded them completely, and he wasn't afraid to let it be known. Not even his fellow World Champions could measure up in his eyes.

He wasn't afraid to run his mouth, but galling as it was to admit, Luciferno had the power and skills to back up his massive ego. Especially in the case of when he emerged as a World Enemy and needed a literal army to challenge him.

Of course, that made him no less of an jerk to interact with.

It was futile to admonish him, for he'd been like this for years now. It was highly doubtful that he would start changing his attitude any time soon.

Luciferno found a new seat and made himself comfortable. He resumed his prior activity of brooding in his little corner while gazing out the window at the world below.

The rest of the World Champions congregated closer to the center of the room and settled in, watching through the mirrors that overlooked the stage and the audience below. In the end, the group settled on an unspoken and tentative compromise.

Following that, the atmosphere settled back into its normal quiet as sparse conversation and chatter were stirred up by the seven World Champions. Most of it was catching up with one another and passing the time while they waited for the tournament's official commencement.

Minutes passed before it reached a certain topic of discussion.

"So, who's your guy's bet on the finalist?" LichtKing prompted.

It was a common question to propose, and each year they made it into a small game. They would place wagers and pick out Players they'd like or believe might make it as finalists, or even who might win and join them as the next World Champion.

The conversation quickly shifted, with each World Champion picking out several names from the roster based on who they believed had the best chance at winning. Some were well-known names within the PvP sphere that Touch Me readily recognized. Others were former contenders in previous World Champion Tournaments or powerful Players in their own rights. Additionally, there were a few names that were new and mysterious sprinkled in. Shirou and Warrior Takemikazuchi's names were brought up once or twice as well, to his hidden approval.

"What about you, Touch Me-san?" Elementum V said, or rather, typed out.

"For myself, I would say perhaps either Emiya-san or Warrior Takemikazuchi-san has the greatest chance of entering the final or winning this thing altogether." He answered without a shred of hesitation. Unlike the others who pondered for a bit before giving their answers, Touch Me's was immediate and held the utmost confidence in his decision.

"Really? It wouldn't be because you just so happen to be in the same guild and close friends, would it?" LichtKing quirked a knowing smile, calling the paladin out on his bias.

"Perhaps." Touch Me returned with a cheeky hum, shrugging.

"I can see Warrior Takemikazuchi-san having a good chance of winning. I fought against him in the finals of our tournament and he was very skilled. However, he did become a bit impatient and greedy towards the end, which gave me the opportunity I needed to win instead of him." ShikiHime reminisced, revealing their shared history.

Touch Me nodded, all too familiar with his rival's habits.

"He's probably only gotten better since last time. As for Emiya-san, I can't say much for or against him since I barely know the man besides hearsay." She said.

"His reputation speaks clearly of his repertoire and persistence. Though he's more well known in the PKing sphere than in the PvP sphere. It'll be quite interesting to see him fight in a tournament setting. And who knows, perhaps we'll finally have an answer to the mystery surrounding him." Wishful Mercí deposited.

"You mean, finding out if he's the real deal or just another cheat?" Belladonna bluntly added, and in one of her hands, she twirled a thin glass of champagne.

Wishful Mercí offered a wordless, slim nod. A round of divisive murmurs was brought forth, spreading quickly amongst them as they jumped right into the topic.

Touch Me leaned back into his comfortable seat with a small, unseen smile on his lips. He listened in on the others polite but animated debate. The sight of which never fails to rouse a sense of sly amusement within him, for he was among the trusted few that knew the truth.

It wasn't merely Shirou's actions and character that perpetuated him as a controversial figure within the YGGDRASIL community, although they did play a heavy factor. One of the most debated topics regarding his capacity as a Player lies in the layers of mystery that surround his abilities and his build. To this day, the true nature and inner workings of the Player Killer's build remain a highly contested subject.

It was in human nature, when faced with the inexplicable, to fall back on normal convention. To assign clarity, to give understanding to that which defies the previous convention. It was how humans coped and felt in control.

And when it came to the Player simply known as Emiya, whose build flew in the face of YGGDRASIL's established mechanics, he was no exception.

Countless wild theories have sprung up over the years, with each trying to find some measure of an explanation as to how his build works and how he was able to do what he could. One of the earliest and more popular hypotheses was that his ability to summon and fire off powerful weapons with devastating effects and vastly unique skills was due to him spamming cash items. He masks their summoning behind a special effect, making it appear as if he's responsible for it. An expensive method, to be sure, but plausible.

Another speculation proposed was that he would respec his entire build regularly, hence explaining why varying encounters with the Player Killer revealed different play styles and methodologies in his combat. Such a theory fell off sometime later as more conflicting proof surfaced.

Many different explanations have come and gone over the years, but none have ever gotten close to scratching the surface that was the true depth of Shirou's ability. There have been many who have tried to replicate his build in the past. All of which failed. His build was too fluid, too diverse. Not even the best min-max build had come close to emulating even a fraction of what the Player Killer had shown, let alone copying him. A fact that has stumped many forum posts and Players and left them with little to do but theory-crafting.

Currently, the most widely accepted assumption was that his unique abilities and magic were derived from unique job classes that came from either a special reward for beating a World Enemy, uncovering an exclusive, one-of-a-kind secret, or perhaps even a World Item. That was the only rationale that lends credence to categorizing and explaining Shirou's diverse arsenal and quite frankly busted playstyle.

Simply put, the very nature of his unprecedented build should be theoretically and logistically impossible to create in YGGDRASIL, and yet it does. There was none other like him in all of YGGDRASIL. In a game that valued diversity over power, he was a true jack of all trades and a master of all.

He was an anomaly; he shouldn't exist in the game.

"Maybe there's no trick to it. Maybe it's just all magic." Touch Me weighed in.

Everyone looked at him.

"Magic..." Belladonna repeated with a touch of incredulity. "Do you mean the game's tier magic system, or are you referring to actual magic, as in magic magic?"

Touch Me hummed and offered a noncommittal shrug.

"I wasn't aware that you dabbled in being a comedian, Touch Me-san." The Fel Elf deadpanned and dismissed. "I know that the two of you are friends, but if you're going to lie on his behalf, at least make it a believable one."

"Everything in this world is magic, except to the magician." Duskindal whimsically quoted aloud. "We throw around powerful spells, slay monsters and gods, and discover land beyond our imaginations. Maybe he is cheating, but none of us can prove it now, can we? So who's to say he's not performing magic after all? He's the magician on stage, and we're the audience, bewitched by his tricks. Perhaps he's a cheater, or maybe he knows something we all don't. A good magician never reveals his secret after all."

The others looked at him, mulling over his words and genuinely giving it a second thought.

There was one, however, who was not swept up in the assassin's poetics.

"I would still call it cheating if the tricks they're using are so outlandish that they go against the convention of the game. Even in fiction, rules exist. However, I won't care to pretend that I know exactly how he does what he does. But I must admit that he must be doing something right, unlike a certain charlatan." Belladonna remarked, eyeing the Demi-human Player.

"Are you harping on me on that?" Duskindal sighed dramatically. "We can play with words all day if you'd like, Bell-chan, but I've never broken the rules of the game."

"I would call that a technicality." She countered poignantly.

"I'd call that a skill issue." He smugly returned.

A brief stint of tensed quietness settled over the room as the two locked eyes.

"You forget yourself. The only reason you're even a World Champion in the first place is because you were the first. That's all. Don't mistake being first for being the best, you vacuous lout." The Fel Elf hissed, dredging up an old memory.

Years ago, when the first World Champion Tournament was announced, there existed a small bug at the time. A completely inconsequential glitch that, had no one stumbled across it, likely would have remained undetected for an untold number of years. Duskindal happened upon it by complete chance and, through numerous trial and error, found that he could use it as a small exploit. It was utterly useless in any other situation, but he found a use for it and entered the tournament. It provided him with the slimmest edge over the competition, allowing him to work his way through the preliminary rounds and eventually won the tournament with its help. Thus, Duskindal was crowned the first-ever World Champion of YGGDRASIL.

However, the tale doesn't end there. After he had won, many skeptics reviewed the vlogs of the tournament with a fine-tooth comb and noted an odd inconsistency during his matches. The glitch was subsequently discovered and reported on. In less than a day, it was hot-fixed by the developers.

Due to the unlawful nature of his victory, the developers quickly got in touch with him. The matter was kept behind closed doors, and only those involved knew the truth of what transpired.

The developers threatened to not just to revoke his title and delete his account but also to permaban him entirely from YGGDRASIL. With his head on the chopping block, he was intensely interviewed, and at the end, they asked him one final question. A question that would determine his fate. If he had the choice, would he have done it again, knowing the potential repercussions?

If Duskindal was to be believed when he shared with the others what went down, he didn't even hesitate as he answered with a resolute yes.

He then went on and launched into a counterpoint where the exploit only existed due to their oversight on the developer's part, which led to the spaghetti coding in the first place. He spoke of how they were just as guilty as him, and he took it a step further by arguing that the developers should be thanking him for having been the one to discover it in the first place and bring it to their attention. Or else someone else might have discovered it with a more malicious intent in mind in comparison to him.

Duskindal boldly declared himself innocent. He neither purposely tampered with the game's codes nor did he use an external source.

The glitch only worked under specific circumstances, and it was far from game-breaking. Like everything else in YGGDRASIL, he saw something that could work to his advantage and sought it in his favor. He bent the rules, yes, but he did not explicitly break them according to the terms of service.

As the saying goes, "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

Whether or not Duskindal spoke the full, impartial truth about what truly happened, a simple fact remained. The developers allowed him to retain his status as a World Champion.

The decision in question was highly controversial and caused a great deal of commotion within various online communities and forums. Many clamored and raged that he was a no-good cheater, undeserving of the title and honor that came with being a World Champion. Yet, even without the exploit, many would be hard-pressed to deny his skill as a Player, even if he was the clear weakest amongst his fellow World Champions.

Of course, many weren't going to forget or forgive so easily.

"Y'ouch. Kitties got her claws out today." Duskindal purred like a cat, his fingers scratching with a gesture. "Always singling me out. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're doing it on purpose to get my attention."

He gasped as if some important revelation had struck him.

"Could it be? Could our previous Bell-chan be a tsun-tsun?"

He leaned forward; an impish-looking emoticon appeared over his avatar, wiggling its eyebrow.

The temperature of the room dropped as a wave of frigid vexation radiated off of Belladonna. Punctuated further by a glaring emoticon, mirroring the Player's own, leveled solely on the grinning assassin.

"Your rotted mind must have deteriorated more than I thought to even think of, let alone entertain such a despicable and banal idea as that. That I would possibly find you, a cretinous and deluded ill-suited reprobate such as yourself, as desirable, why the mere idea of it alone makes my stomach churn!" The elf let out a presumptuous huff, venom practically spitting from her tongue as she turned her nose to him with a gaze reserved for those she viewed as lower than dirt.

Duskindal playfully flinched backward, sucking in a sharp breath with his knees buckling and weak as a hand grabbed the railing to keep himself from collapsing. His other hand nursed over his heart, clutching his chest.

"Why, what a devilishly lashing tongue you have, Bell-chan. My, my, makes me wonder what else it can do~" He purred, leaning forward unintimidated.

"Remove your vapid delusions from my sight. Continue speaking in such a manner to me, you utterly myopic simpleton, and I'll show exactly what I'm capable of." The Fel Elf vowed darkly, flexing her gilded claws. The female World Champion rose from her seat, meeting his challenge.

"Get a room, you two!" ShikiHime blandly called out from the sidelines, sparking amused chuckles from the others. "I swear it's always the same shit between Miss Thesaurus and Sir Dumbass over there. Those two bicker more than married couples."

"You can't deny that it ain't fun to watch. I swear, there's more sexual tension between two people that'll never meet than any I've seen from those romantic dramas and shows my mother used to binge-watch." LichtKing snickered, drawing Belladonna's ire and Duskindal's smirk.

Touch Me couldn't help but agree. Duskindal and Belladonna were at each other's throats more often than Touch Me and Ulbert were, and that was saying a lot.

Before anything else could happen, the sound of clapping, courtesy of Wishful Mercí, rang out, calling for attention.

A message popped up from Elementum V that simply read, "Why don't we get back on track?" He asked politely, helping the grey angel reign in the matter before it veered off track even further.

Belladonna harrumphed in typical fashion, flickering her hair at him as she turned away, while Duskindal blew her a kiss and waved ta-ta.

"Back on topic, that's quite the confidence, Touch Me-san. You wouldn't happen to know something we don't? In that case, mind sharing it with the rest of the class?" LichtKing unabashedly asked him, seizing the conversation. His curiosity was shared by a few of the others too, who wanted to know the secret.

"And spoil the surprise? Why, I'd never! Where's the fun in that?" Touch Me said, gasping playfully.

"Aww, come on, Touch Me-san! Lighten up a little; we're all friends here!" Duskindal joked, coming over and throwing his hand onto the paladin's shoulder. "Also, aren't you supposed to be a hero? Heroes are supposed to help people out, so throw us a bone here!"

Touch Me chuckled.

"Apologies, but my lips are sealed. But I'm sure you'll have your answer soon enough when you see Emiya-san in action with your own eyes."

"Spoilsport." Duskindal pouted.

Intrigue aside, the other World Champions were indeed curious. Despite Touch Me's biases coloring his words and credibility, they all knew that the heroic paladin was never one to hand out flattery readily or exaggerate easily.

If Touch Me vouched for Shirou and held the utmost confidence in his friends, impartiality or not, that was not something to halfheartedly dismiss. Which only made them all the more curious to see him in action and whether the mystery surrounding him held any kernel of truth, and if the Player could live up to his fearsome reputation.

A loud mocking scoff echoed, drawing all the World Champion's attention as, for the first time, Luciferno graced the conversation with his presence.

"Is something the matter?" Touch Me questioned.

"If you believe that all it'll take is a few parlor tricks and a gimmick to win a World Champion Tournament, then the whole thing went to shit faster than I thought. Either you've gone senile in your old age, or you're more of a sentimental fool than I thought."

Touch Me cheeks crinkled upon hearing this. If the silver paladin took offense to the World Enemy's words he didn't show it. If anything, the World Champion of Álfheim was amused more than anything else.

"Perhaps. One can never know how these matches will go." He willingly conceded. "But maybe he might just surprise you. As the saying goes, it ain't over until it's over. I suppose we'll have to wait and see who's right at the end."

In the face of Touch Me's overwhelming optimism, Luciferno clicked his tongue in disgust, dismissing him as he turned back away.

With the minor intrusion settled, the group continued with their conversation for some time until, finally, a loud announcement was made. The tournament was to resume on schedule.

The World Champions took their seats, making themselves comfortable as the opening match of the tournament kicked off.

'Best of luck to both of you.'

Touch Me offered a silent prayer, wishing them fortune and luck in the fights to come.

[—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—][—]

Unbeknownst to everyone, the cause of the tournament's delay was due to one individual. When the Players were teleported away from the arena, Shirou did not follow after Warrior Takemikazuchi and the rest of the competitors. Instead, he was appeared elsewhere.

The moment he appeared in the room, he tensed up. His eyes surveyed his new surroundings, taking note of everything.

He appeared in a well-furnished room, quaint and comfortable, exuding an old-world charm. The chamber was devoid of any doors or windows, instilling a sense of seclusion and tranquility. The walls were draped with an assortment of colorful curtains and tapestries, each displaying a unique pattern and iconography from different cultures and regions, making it an amalgamation of diverse art and culture. There were two small tables near him, one adorned with pitchers and chalices, while the other stood in the center with two extravagant chairs and a plate of delicacies, including sliced fruits, berries, nuts, figs, and other snacks. The room was cluttered with an array of miscellaneous objects, yet far from being disordered, which gave it a sense of organized chaos.

Shirou's lips pressed into a thin line, wondering just where exactly he was.

"No need to be so tensed."

Shirou froze.

He didn't sense another presence in here with him until the voice spoke up. However, what shook him wasn't the fact that he was caught off-guard but rather who the voice belonged to.

Slowly, he turned around, his mind racing at a greater speed than his body.

Ever since Shirou received that second [Message] from Zelretch, he has been waiting for the opportunity to meet and talk with him again. He waited on pins and needles for the follow-up. Only, it never came. Fast forward to the day of the World Champion Tournament, he had put the matter aside until that was taken care of first. Even with his public appearance at the arena, Zelretch didn't so much as glance in the magus's direction.

Shirou figured that their long-awaited meeting would happen later rather than sooner.

Only for Zelretch to surprise him yet again.

At the back of the room lay a desk littered with stacks of books, papers, and scrolls on it. The wall behind it was lined with numerous bookshelves that were overflowing with books. And there, sitting down with a pair of reading glasses and reading some large and thick tome, was the originator of it all.

Shirou felt his throat constrict as he laid eyes on the Wizard Marshall.

Zelretch took his eyes off of what he was reading and slowly, without any sense of hurry, took off his reading glasses and gently stood up.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world halted.

No longer was Zelretch only a memory in his mind or just a figure in the distance that he could see.

There they stood, two relics of a bygone era, the last of their kind, face-to-face at last after almost a decade.

"Hello, Shirou. It's been some time, hasn't it?"

"Zelretch…"

Omake: Alternative Summoning's II

"Heart, love, and hope combine; Magical Girl Prisma Illya is here to save the day!" A cute voice cried out.

"Oh god, I really am cursed..." Shirou let out a long, suffering sigh with his head in his hands.

Normally, he would be surprised, if not happy, to see a familiar face. In this situation, he would've taken anyone else. Literally anyone. Even Gilgamesh. Anything than what he had in front of him in that moment.

Drawing himself up, he looked at the Caster Servant.

Illya, she looked almost like he last remembered her, but she was clearly better. She looked joyful and was smiling, which was a good thing in his opinion. What wasn't good was that she was dressed petitely in a school uniform, complete with backpack and everything, with that accursed pink Kaleidostick in hand.

By herself, it wasn't a problem. The problem came from the fact that it wasn't just Illya.

Shirou's eyes swept over the other Servants.

Berserker was a young girl, short of height, and dressed in bright blue women's overalls, some boots, and nothing else... The only normal part about her was her weapon, a chainsaw. Paul Bunyan.

Lancer took the form of a young girl that bore a striking resemblance to a certain pink, blindfolded Rider and was dressed in risqué armor that showed off her skin, far more than he would like. The tight red collar around her neck didn't help his case either. Medusa.

Rider was little better, being another youthful young girl dressed in a simple maid uniform with roller skates of all things and a school backpack just like Illya. The giant mechanical arms were a unique touch, but that seemed only to highlight her petite stature. Leonardo Da Vinci

The worst offender would be Assassin, who was yet another young girl garbed in loose royal-colored robes that barely draped over her body and revealed as much, if not more, of her body than Lancer. Wu Zetian.

Yeah... There was a clear theme here, and everyone, Shirou especially, could see it.

He turned to his friends to explain himself before any misunderstanding could crop up.

Only to find Momonga with a phone held to his ears.

"Moshi moshi..."

Before Shirou could get a word out, the massive door of the Throne Room was violently kicked open.

Jolting, he hastily turned around to see Touch Me and Ulbert with policeman hats on their heads at the entrance.

Also, why was he hearing police sirens all of a sudden?!

"You disgust me! Is this how you get your sick kicks?!" Touch Me practically teleported to Shirou's side, grabbing one of his arms and forcing it behind his back.

"W-what?! No! W-wwait! It's not what it looks like!" Shirou exclaimed.

"That's what they always say. Tell it to the judge, bub! Come on!" Ulbert took up the other side and did the same with his other arm.

Shirou was escorted out by Touch Me and Ulbert. His struggle and cries for help fell on deaf ears as the rest watched on as he was taken away.

"So that's what he's into..."

Peroroncino shuddered.

His head snapped to the side to find his sister rubbing her hands together; an ominous aura hung over the pick slime.

"Hehehe. It's perfect. I'll be a good little girl for you, Shirou-onii-chan... Hehehehehe..." Bukubukuchagama cackled in her cutesy voice.

Peroroncino gulped and clapped his hands together.

'Eroge gods, please watch over Emiya-senpai! Don't let him go to the other side!' The guild's resident degenerate prayed.

He could do nothing but offer a silent prayer to his senpai, should he survive that was.

Character Sheet Stat Screen:

Assassin - Lvl: 100 (True Name: Jack the Ripper)

Title: Sweet Innocent Killer

Job: NPC Servant to Emiya

Resident: The Great Tomb of Nazarick; can travel with summoner

Alignment: Chaotic Evil. Sense of Justice: -400.

Race: Heroic Spirit

Racial Level:

[Wraith]: 5 Lvl

Job Level:

[Assassin]: 15 Lvl

[Cutthroat]: 10 Lvl

[Expert]: 10 Lvl

[Stalker]: 10 Lvl

[Nightmare]: 5 Lvl

[Anti-Hero]: 5 Lvl

[Other]: 40 Lvl

Total: Racial level: 5 + Job level: 95 = 100 level

Ability Chart:

HP: 65

MP: 52

Phy ATK: 60

Phy DEF: 51

Agility: 100+

Mag ATK: 25

Mag Def: 33

Resist: 90

Special: 100+

Total Stats: 576+

Author's Note:

To begin, I've been out of the loop for both Fate and Overlord fandom for a while now. Like everything else, my interest kind of fell to the wayside, especially when it came to Overlord. I haven't been able to enjoy the series all that much when trying to get back into it. I've been trying to keep up, but most of the time it's skimming the fandom wiki, talking with some friends on it, or sporadic pieces of media. So if anything new or consequential has been added in the time I wrote this and it conflicts with what's here, that's why.

Regarding the World Champion and World Champion Tournament, not much is known besides the barebone. So, this allowed us to have some leeway with how I wanted to try and write it. I especially had fun with writing and designing some of the characters to give a bit more diversity to the roster.

And before anyone asks, for the character of Luciferno, he's based on the World Champion of Múspellsheim in the Overlord WN that became a World Enemy. I remember reading that on the wiki several years ago and found it cool and wanted to incorporate it into the story. Is it a bit absurd writing him as he is, yes, but there's always that one player in that one game or MMORPG that hordes the best class and gear or super min-max to be the absolute best in the game, and the character of Luciferno takes that idea and runs with it. He's probably not going to be a major plot point or something to shake up the setting and more as a neat addition and a bit of world building.

If it hasn't been obvious by now, most to all of the decisions made in the story where something seems different or doesn't fit the canon of the series stems from me thinking, 'Huh, this would be kind of cool.' or, 'What if this happens or this is added.' For better or for worse.

But yea, that's all I have to say. I wrote more than I thought getting back into it and I missed how fun it is to just write down my thoughts on what went into writing the chapter. I hoped it remained enjoyable.