"weird dream" assessment was rapidly losing credibility.
The kid with the sword—Tanjiro—was trying to be a peacemaker, hands held up in a placating gesture. "Please, everyone, let's just calm down! My name is Tanjiro Kamado! I... I'm a Demon Slayer! We need to figure out where we are!"
"A Demon Slayer?" the white-haired man, Gojo, mused. He tapped a finger against his blindfold. "Like, Curses? No, your energy is different. Clean. And you..."
Gojo's blindfolded head swiveled to Saitama, who was now lightly tapping the pristine white floor, checking if it was hollow. "You. Baldy. Cape. You're the weirdest one here. You have... nothing. No energy. No power. You're just a blank spot. It's fascinating."
Saitama stood up and pointed at himself. "Me? I'm just a hero for fun. Are you... a cosplayer? You look strong. Wanna spar?"
"A spar?" Gojo's grin became a wide, dangerous slash. "I like you. But I should warn you, if I get serious--"
"AIEEE! WE'RE IN THE AFTERLIFE!" Kazuma shrieked, scrambling backward on all fours. "I knew it! We're all dead! And he's... he's an Arch-Lich! A high-level undead! Look at him! The white hair, the overwhelming confidence, the creepy blindfold! He's going to use 'Drain Touch' and steal our life force!"
The group stared at him.
"An Arch-Lich?" Gojo repeated, looking delighted. "Ooh, I'll take that. Sounds cool."
"He's not undead," Tanjiro said, sniffing the air. "He's... just a person. A very... confusing-smelling person. He smells like... like the sky. But you," he said, turning to Kazuma, "you smell... really, really scared."
"OF COURSE I'M SCARED! YOU'RE ALL INSANE! I WANT A USELESS GODDESS, NOT A CHATTY GHOST-SAMURAI AND A BALD CAPE-GUY!"
Gojo's grin vanished. His interest, piqued by Saitama, was now fully engaged. The sheer arrogance of a being who could just show up and be this powerful... it was intoxicating. He slowly raised his hand, pointing an index finger at the bald man.
"You're a blank spot," Gojo said, his voice dropping the playful lilt. "Let's see what happens when I fill it."
Tanjiro's eyes widened. The scent of power from the blindfolded man spiked, sharp and terrifying, like a bolt of lightning. "Wait! Stop!"
"Cursed Technique Reversal: Red."
It wasn't a full-power blast. It was a test. A small, concentrated pulse of repulsive force, no bigger than a baseball, shot across the room. It was fast enough to atomize any normal human, and powerful enough to level a building.
Saitama, whose primary emotion was annoyance at being interrupted, just... reacted.
He didn't punch. He didn't dodge. He just backhanded it.
He swatted the compressed, reality-distorting orb of Cursed Energy like it was a mosquito.
There was no explosion. No shockwave. The pulse of Red simply... vanished. It was not nullified. It was not resisted. It was overpowered so casually, so absolutely, that it ceased to exist.
Saitama rubbed his hand. "Ow. Kinda stung. Like static electricity. Hey, don't shoot things at me."
The white room was silent.
Kazuma's jaw was on the floor. Tanjiro was clutching his sword, his mind unable to process what his nose and eyes were telling him.
Satoru Gojo's smile was gone. His blindfold was still on, but behind it, his Six Eyes were running calculations at a speed that would melt a supercomputer. They were re-analyzing the event, frame by frame, and coming up with the same impossible answer.
/Zero Cursed Energy. Infinite force./
"...Ho," Gojo whispered, a single bead of sweat trickling down his temple. /This guy... is dangerous./
Before he could formulate a second test, a new sound echoed in the chamber. It was a high-pitched, panicked scream, accompanied by a whump-thud.
A new arrival had landed in a heap.
This one was a high-school-aged boy, all gangly limbs and wild, spiked-up hair. He was wearing a school uniform and looked like he'd just been in a brawl. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with a very specific, practiced kind of terror.
"Momo?! Evil Eye?! Was it the Flatwoods monster again?! Wait..."
Ken "Okarun" Takakura stared at the group.
His brain, already rewired to accept ghosts, aliens, cryptids, and curses, tried to categorize what he was seeing.
A kid with a sword and a weird robe. Possible samurai spirit. High-level.
A guy in a yellow suit and a cape. Gag character ghost? Those are the worst. They break all the rules.
A screaming guy in a tracksuit. Victim ghost? Pathetic.
A white-haired man in a blindfold. ...Definitely a ghost. A powerful, creepy one. Maybe the one who runs this Domain.
"Are you... are you spirits?" Okarun stammered, striking a shaky fighting pose. "Or aliens?! If you're aliens, I'm... I'm not supposed to talk to you! But if you're ghosts, I'm warning you, I've got Turbo-Granny on my side!"
"Another one?!" Kazuma shrieked, pointing. "See! He sees ghosts too! We're dead! This is Purgatory!"
"I'm not a spirit!" Tanjiro insisted. "I'm a Demon Slayer!"
"A Demon Slayer?" Okarun's eyes lit up with terrified recognition. "Like... from the occult?! You... you hunt demons?! Are they here?! Is this Hell?!"
The room was descending into a farce of mutual misunderstanding when a sixth presence made itself known.
There was no sound. No portal. No light.
A patch of the white floor simply... became black. A shadow, darker than any natural shadow, spread on the seamless floor. The temperature in the impossibly large room plummeted.
Tanjiro choked. The scent. It was an ocean. It was an abyss. It was the smell of death, but not of malice. It was cold, absolute, and overwhelming. It was the scent of a million, million souls, all kneeling to one master. It was so powerful it made Muzan's aura feel like a candle.
Kazuma, who had just gotten to his feet, took one look at the figure rising from the shadow, his eyes glowing with a cold, blue light. The sheer, unadulterated menace... Kazuma's eyes rolled back, and he fainted flat on the floor.
Sung Jin-Woo rose to his full height. He wasn't breathing hard. He wasn't confused. He was furious. He had been in Seoul, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when this... authority... had simply taken him. It had bypassed his powers, severed his connection to his full army, and deposited him here.
His daggers, the Kamish's Wrath, were already in his hands. Blue lightning crackled over his black coat.
He ignored Saitama, Tanjia, and Okarun. He ignored the fainted Kazuma. His glowing, enraged eyes locked onto the only other being in the room that registered as a true threat.
Satoru Gojo.
Gojo, whose Six Eyes were now processing a level of power he had only ever seen in one other being—Sukuna—felt his grin return, wider and more genuine than ever. It was a predatory, excited expression.
"Well, well, well," Gojo breathed, pulling down his blindfold to his nose. His brilliant blue eyes met Jin-Woo's. "Now this is a party. You're... you're not a Curse. You're not a Sorcerer. What are you?"
Jin-Woo's voice was a low growl, echoing with the voices of a legion. "Where am I? And who is responsible for this? Answer me. Now."
"That," Saitama said, pointing up, "is probably the guy we should be asking."
The others looked up. The uniform white light of the ceiling had dimmed to a cold, sterile grey. In the center of the vast space, a new thing had appeared.
It was not a man. It was a being of impossible geometry, a massive, floating crystal that seemed to have a thousand facets, each one shifting and refracting the light. It hummed with an ancient, unfeeling power.
"Welcome, Anomalies," a voice echoed, seeming to come from inside their very skulls. It was genderless, toneless, and absolute.
"You have been chosen. You are the focal points of your respective realities. The variables that have pushed your worlds to the brink. The six most 'talked about' individuals in all of creation."
Vast, holographic images appeared above each of them.
Saitama, punching Boros. The planet's atmosphere parting.
Gojo, unleashing Hollow Purple.
Jin-Woo, standing before an army of one hundred thousand shadows.
Tanjiro, performing the Hinokami Kagura against an Upper Moon.
Okarun, possessed by Turbo-Granny, moving at impossible speeds.
Kazuma, successfully using Steal on a Demon King's general's... panties.
"HEY!" Kazuma yelled, having been jolted awake by the voice. "Mine's the only embarrassing one! And where are my party members?! I demand to see Aqua!"
The being, The Arbiter, ignored him. "Your actions have created instability. Your victories are anomalies that the universe cannot sustain. You will, therefore, participate in The Reset Game."
"Reset?" Tanjiro asked, his voice trembling. "What... what do you mean?"
The image above Tanjiro flickered. It showed his world. Muzan was alive. Nezuko was a full, bloodthirsty demon. His friends were dead.
The image above Jin-Woo changed. The Monarchs were victorious. The Earth was a desolate wasteland. His mother and sister... gone.
Gojo's vision showed Sukuna, free and triumphant, standing over the ruins of Jujutsu High.
Saitama's showed the Monster Association, victorious, with King Boros ruling over the rubble of Earth.
"This is the price of failure," The Arbiter's voice boomed. "You will compete in a series of games. You will cooperate. You will win. If you refuse, or if you fail, your worlds will be 'reset.' All your struggles, your victories, your sacrifices... erased. As if they never happened."
A cold, unifying dread fell over the six of them.
Jin-Woo was the first to act. "And if we destroy you?"
In an instant, Igris and Beru tore themselves from his shadow, massive and dripping with killing intent.
"I'm with him," Gojo said, cracking his neck. "I really don't like being told what to do."
Saitama just cracked his knuckles. "This is getting annoying. You're really gonna make me miss that sale."
The Arbiter was still. "Irrelevant. My authority is absolute. Your actions here are bound by my rules. You cannot harm me. You cannot leave."
A new, blinding light filled the room.
"The first game begins now. Cooperate, or be erased. Your choice."
The pristine white floor vanished, and all six of them—the Hero, the Sorcerer, the Monarch, the Slayer, the Occultist, and the Gambler—were falling into darkness.