The Absolute Godspeed of Infinite Worlds

Thud, thud, thud!

A helicopter hovered overhead, its high-powered camera peering out from the open cabin door. A spirited TV reporter gripped the microphone tightly, his expression lit with excitement as he delivered the opening commentary.

This was Arena Nine, one of the few open-air battlefields at Hagun Academy.

Today, unlike usual, the entire student body and faculty had gathered in the stands, all focused on this afternoon's one and only match. The stadium buzzed with energy, filled with deafening voices and anticipation.

The selection tournament had reached its final phase. Only twelve undefeated Blazer students remained. The last round of evaluation would take place across six arenas—and this, without question, was the main event.

"Man, there are a lot of people here."

Nene Saikyo, dressed in her signature red kimono, lounged lazily in the very last row of the audience seats—the spot with the best vantage point. She munched happily on a bucket of popcorn.

"Well, they did build up a lot of hype."

Shinguuji Kurono appeared beside her, shrugging.

"Looks like Akaza pulled every string he could get his hands on. Guy really went all-in."

He'd even brought in the media for a live broadcast—clearly setting Ikki up to fall hard.

"Hehehe! Director Shinguuji, you flatter me. I'm still just a humble servant!"

A short, round man in a well-pressed suit emerged from the stairs, grinning ear to ear as he sat in the front row—the closest you could get to the ring.

"The Red Fox," Nene muttered under her breath.

The Ethics Committee, notorious across the campus, was often derisively referred to by that name.

"—And here it is! The final match of Hagun Academy's selection tournament! This is your favorite commentator, Tsukuyomi, bringing you the broadcast—and joining me for analysis is none other than Professor Oreki Yuuri!"

"Ahaha, honestly, I never expected this match to attract so much attention. Even I'm getting nervous, Tsukuyomi-kun!"

"Y-You've got this…!"

"And so do you! Don't go collapsing from a nosebleed halfway through!"

"No worries—I came prepared with a blood transfusion kit today!"

"That's… weirdly reassuring! Alright then, let's not waste any more time. Let's introduce the fighters!"

"First up, waiting silently in the prep room—so intense that even a martial arts amateur like me can feel that pressure leaking out!"

"It's said he was born with a fragile body, so weak that any small misstep could've ended his life. Until his teens, he even had to be spoon-fed to survive. But he never gave up! From his hospital bed, he trained with ferocious discipline. At fourteen, he finally stood up and walked on his own—and now, he's risen all the way to the battlefield of Blazers! Who can even imagine how much he endured to get here?"

The commentator's voice choked up with emotion as he told the story.

"Whoa. They finally dug up Little Junior's past?"

Nene clicked her tongue and wiped her greasy hands on the seat beside her.

"So that's what was behind it all…"

Kurono ignored the rudeness and instead recalled the first time she had met Eiji.

Back then, he'd looked completely frail. No muscle tone whatsoever. Compared to a normal teenage boy, he was worlds apart. And now, it all made sense—it wasn't laziness, but a lifelong battle with a weak constitution.

Come to think of it... it had only been a little over two months.

In such a short time, he had transformed—she could hardly believe he was the same person. The frailty was gone, replaced by solid strength and a sharp spirit.

Kurono couldn't help but be moved.

"Yeah… the kid had it rough."

Nene also sighed, recalling how scrawny he'd been back then.

"Old man Nangou did his best to hide it too. Guess it was only a matter of time before the press sniffed it out. I wonder how Eiji feels now that it's public."

To protect his disciple, Nangou Torajirou had tried hard to keep Eiji's condition a secret.

But no secret lasts forever. Eiji's every move had drawn attention over the past months, and it was only natural that his identity would eventually surface. Thankfully, the media hadn't gotten hold of it until now.

Now that Eiji was famous, his past had finally become part of the public story.

"Hiuhiu! Nene-chan, don't go lumping this old man in with relics of the past now!"

Without a sound.

Not even Nene or Kurono had noticed.

An elderly man in a gray kimono had appeared behind them both, letting out a strange laugh.

"Old man?! What are you doing here?!"

Nene jumped in shock, sending her bucket of popcorn flying.

"Hahaha! Even when I'm vacationing in Hokkaido, word reaches me that my final disciple is about to duel the descendant of that old dragon, Ryouma! Of course I had to come see it for myself!"

The old man grinned widely, revealing a mouthful of healthy white teeth.

Though already ninety-two years old, his face was marked with deep crow's feet and age spots, and his white hair had thinned to near baldness. He leaned on a grey walking stick, his back slightly hunched.

He looked like he could keel over at any moment—yet only those who knew him understood just how terrifyingly powerful that seemingly frail body still was.

"It's been too long, Lord Torajirou," Kurono greeted him respectfully with a bow.

"Well, well, if it isn't little Kurono! Even after popping out a kid, you've still got quite the perky backside!"

The old man laughed boisterously, completely carefree in tone.

Kurono just gave a wry smile. That was typical Nangou Torajirou. He might come off as a pervy old man, but deep down he was as reliable as they came.

This was the "God of War".

The only Japanese to ever win the God of War Tournament, hosted by the legendary Shinryuu Temple in China.

There were very few world-class tournaments open to Blazers. Outside the athletic-focused Olympics, only two major events stood at the peak: the KOK Championship, hosted by the League, and the God of War Tournament of Shinryuu Temple.

But unlike the structured, professional KOK League, the God of War Tournament was raw and brutal. A savage free-for-all where underhanded tactics weren't just allowed—they were expected. The victor gained no prize, only the right to be called "God of War."

Nangou Torajirou had claimed that title once. Since then, the world knew him by only one name: the God of War.

"That disciple of mine doesn't need my protection anymore."

Torajirou took a seat beside Nene, his gaze drifting to the arena below, where the final match was about to take place. His expression darkened with quiet focus.

"And what does Lord Torajirou think of this match?" Kurono asked.

"Who knows?" the old man replied, straightforward as ever.

"I've never seen Ryouma's descendants fight, and my disciple… well, who knows what kind of monster he's become. We'll find out soon enough."

He didn't mince words.

"Still… it's exciting, isn't it? My disciple against Ryouma's great-grandson… What a shame the Nangou family doesn't have anyone worth watching."

His tone turned nostalgic for a moment, but there was no warmth in it—only a detached bitterness for his lineage.

"He's here," Kurono said, pointing toward the stage.

The 100-meter-wide arena had already begun its ten-minute countdown.

The red gate creaked open—and from the shadows, Eiji stepped onto the stage.

The stadium exploded into thunderous cheers.

***

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