POV: WORLD / EXPLANATION
The Supernova System hummed quietly in the background of existence, unseen but absolute. And yet, even it had limits.
Once every few decades, the world's strongest gathered. Not for diplomacy. Not for conquest. Not even for fun.
The Tournament of God.
A contest older than modern civilization, older than even the oldest surviving Supernova Supreme. The rules were simple—win, ascend; lose, survive.
Or, in practice, "don't die horribly while everyone else dies horribly."
Each arena was alive, sentient, and absurdly dangerous. Entire moons could shatter at the snap of a finger. Cities would twist into impossible geometries. Reality itself bent—not out of malice, but because the Tournament required spectacle.
Civilian factions whispered. Heroes strategized. Villains sharpened claws. And somewhere, far above, anomalies existed in a state the system could not measure.
They would not register. They could not be tracked. They were… anomalies.
---
POV: DIOKA & GUAKULIA
Floating through the outskirts of a collapsing skyscraper, Dioka twirled a shard of broken glass between his fingers like a baton.
> "Bet you I can hit that guy's hat from three blocks away."
Guakulia, lounging upside-down on a floating chunk of debris, shrugged.
> "Do it. I'll film it for the highlight reel."
The target—a low-tier villain supernova trying to patrol the area—didn't see it coming. One second he was arguing with a civilian, the next, a shard embedded neatly in the street beside him. He screamed. Dioka laughed.
> "Ha! Classic."
Guakulia smirked.
> "Honestly, you need to stop letting your ego do your power math."
> "Ego is half the fun," Dioka replied, spinning the shard back into his pocket.
Nearby, a minor Hero Supernova tried to intervene, raising a barrier of shimmering light. Within milliseconds, Dioka snapped his fingers. The barrier distorted, collapsed, and the Hero stumbled back, utterly confused.
> "Wait, wait—how?!"
> "Not my problem," Dioka said, already chasing a stray dog that had yapped at him.
Guakulia rolled his eyes but grinned.
> "You know, this is why nobody ever wants to fight you."
> "Yeah, yeah," Dioka shrugged. "It's exhausting being perfect."
> "You're not perfect," Guakulia said. "You're ridiculous."
> "Same thing."
---
POV: CIVILIAN / HERO / VILLAIN REACTIONS (MINOR SCENES)
Even in the chaos, rumors began to spread.
"Did you see that kid just… erase a hero barrier with a finger snap?!"
"That guy literally flicked a building and it floated three meters. What the hell?!"
"I think… they're anomalies."
The factions whispered, debated, and panicked. Their fears weren't irrational. When anomalies moved, the world bent around them.
---
POV: DIOKA & GUAKULIA – THE "FUN PART"
Dioka hovered over a floating taxi, reading the driver's terrified face.
> "Hey, wanna bet the cab survives the trip home if I push it through a shockwave?"
> "Absolutely not," Guakulia replied, arms crossed. "That's… that's insurance fraud."
Dioka grinned, slamming his palm into the air. A minor shockwave erupted, flipping the cab upside down. The driver screamed. Dioka laughed so hard he almost fell off the debris.
Guakulia shook his head.
> "You really are a menace."
> "And you love it."
> "I tolerate it. Don't push your luck."
And yet, even as they goofed, the edges of the world's consciousness were stirring. The System, the factions, even the Supreme-tier Supernovas had begun to take notice.
Because the Tournament of God was approaching.
Because everything was about to escalate.
And because… anomalies didn't just play with the world—they dominated it, casually, while laughing.
---
ENDING BEAT
Dioka plopped onto a floating chunk of debris. Guakulia leaned next to her, dangling a foot over the void.
> "So… when do we actually show up for the Tournament?"
> "Meh," Dioka replied. "Let everyone else freak out first. Fun's better that way."
Above them, the faint glow of the Tournament's arena began to shimmer in the sky, massive, alien, impossibly big. The world shifted in anticipation.
And somewhere, the Supernova System hummed uneasily.
> Anomalies detected… but untraceable.
The laugh of two wildcards echoed across the shattered cityscape.
> "Heh. The game's just starting."