History is often written in ink, but the history of the Old World was written in blood.
Centuries ago, the "Great Unification War" raged. It was a conflict that knew no borders and spared no flag. Nations collapsed into meat grinders; cities became tombs of concrete and steel. Bullets outnumbered raindrops, and the sky was perpetually choked by the gray smog of artillery and the crimson mist of the fallen.
Humanity was inches away from extinction. Then, *They* arrived.
They had no names. They had no faces. They simply descended from the tear in the atmosphere—celestial architects disgusted by the squalor of mortal conflict. They did not bring peace treaties; they brought erasure.
With a snap of their fingers, armies turned to ash. With a wave of their hands, nuclear fire turned into harmless petals. But their judgment was not mercy. It was a restructuring.
They deemed one reality too small to contain humanity's lust for conflict. So, they shattered space, time, and causality.
[The Past.]
[The Present.]
[The Future.]
Reality was cleaved into three distinct timelines, isolated from one another. But the Architects were bored. They crafted a new purpose for these separated worlds. To determine which timeline deserved the right to exist as the "True Reality," they initiated the game.
Champions are chosen. Monsters are unleashed.
There are no laws. There are no referees.
Only the Grand Prix Royale.
The winner takes all. Fame. Infinite wealth. Or the ultimate prize: the power to rewrite reality itself.
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Chapter 1: The Fox and the Tank
[Location: Sector 4 – Sakurajima High School]
[Timeline: Present Era]
"Is it just me, or is the sky... vibrating?"
The whisper rippled through the classroom. Pencils stopped scratching against paper. Thirty heads turned toward the window. Outside, the midday sun was being swallowed by geometric fractals—purple and black hexagons spreading across the sky like a digital infection.
Ren sat in the back row, his chin resting on his palm. His hair, black as midnight and long enough to veil his eyes, curtained his expression from the rest of the class. While others pressed their faces against the glass in confusion, Ren didn't move. He simply tapped his finger against his desk.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Everyone, please remain calm!" the teacher, Mr. Tanaka, stammered, though his own hands were shaking as he reached for the intercom. "It's likely just a... a weather phenomenon."
CRASH!
The "weather phenomenon" smashed through the third-floor window.
It wasn't wind. It wasn't rain. It was a beast.
Standing seven feet tall, the creature looked like a wolf drawn by a madman. Its fur was made of serrated cables, its eyes glowing with a toxic green hue. Drool, acidic and smoking, dripped from jaws that unhinged to reveal rows of spinning, mechanical teeth.
"W-What is..." Mr. Tanaka barely finished his sentence.
With a blur of motion, the beast's claw swiped. The teacher was gone, reduced to a spray of crimson against the chalkboard.
Silence held the room for a heartbeat—a terrifying, frozen second where reality refused to process the horror.
Then, the screaming started.
"RUN! EVERYONE RUN!"
Chaos erupted. Desks were overturned. Students trampled one another in a desperate stampede for the door. The Wolf-Beast howled, a sound like grinding metal, and pounced into the crowd.
In the midst of the blood and the panic, Ren finally stood up. He didn't run toward the door. He walked toward the shattered window.
He looked down at the courtyard. It was a slaughterhouse. Dozens of those Wolf-Beasts—*Lupus Jyamato*—were tearing through the school grounds. SWAT teams were already breaching the gates, their rifles barking loudly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The bullets sparked harmlessly off the monsters' hides. A soldier was grabbed by his vest and flung like a ragdoll into a statue. The conventional military was useless. They were fighting ghosts with sticks.
Ren sighed, a sound of heavy annoyance rather than fear. He brushed his bangs aside, revealing eyes that shouldn't exist.
His left eye was a burning crimson red.
His right eye was a cold, metallic silver.
"Noisy," Ren muttered. "They're interrupting my nap."
As he stepped out onto the window ledge, ignoring the three-story drop, particles of light began to coalesce around his waist. A heavy, mechanical buckle materialized with a *clank*.
It was the [Apex Driver].
The device was sleek but industrial, featuring a central slot for a core phone unit and two distinct card readers on the sides. A heavy-duty crank lever sat on the right hip.
Ren reached into his blazer pocket. He didn't tremble. His movements were fluid, practiced, lethal. He pulled out two cards.
One was Crimson Red, depicting a stylized tank turret.
[VECTOR CARD: MECHA]
The other was Pure White, depicting the cunning visage of a fox.
[VECTOR CARD: KITSUNE]
"Let's get this over with."
He slammed the phone unit into the center.
[DRIVER: ON.]
[LOGIN: REN.]
He slotted the Red card into the left reader.
[SET: HEAVY ARMS.]
He slotted the White card into the right reader.
[SET: BEAST.]
Ren grabbed the crank lever. He didn't just turn it; he wrenched it with violent intent.
GRIND. WHIR. CLICK.
The air around him distorted. A holographic roulette spun around his body, flashing images of tank treads and fox tails. The Wolf-Beast in the classroom behind him turned, roaring as it lunged for his back.
Ren didn't look back. He whispered a single word.
"Transform."
He pulled the trigger on the Driver.
[DUAL VECTOR MATCH!]
[MECHA... KITSUNE.]
[PERFECT HARMONY.]
[READY? FIGHT.]
BOOM!
A shockwave of white energy blasted the Wolf-Beast backward, slamming it into the wall.
Ren was no longer a student.
Encasing his upper body was sleek, angular white armor inspired by a fox. Pointed ears rose from his helmet, and a long, white energy scarf flowed from his neck, swaying like a spectral tail.
But his lower body was a contradiction. Heavy, industrial red armor encased his legs. Massive tank treads replaced his shins, churning against the air. A massive, devastating tank turret was mounted on his hip, connected to a trigger mechanism in his hand.
[FORM: STRIKER MIX.]
Ren landed in the courtyard with a heavy *thud*, the concrete cracking under his mechanical treads. The dust settled, revealing his new form to the horrors around him.
A pack of five Lupus Jyamato stopped their slaughter, turning their glowing green eyes toward the armored figure. They snarled, recognizing the scent of a Player.
Ren adjusted the massive turret on his hip. He lifted it effortlessly, aiming it with one hand. His helmet's visor flashed blue.
"School is dismissed," Ren said, his voice amplified by a digital filter, cold and flat.
The wolves charged.
Ren squeezed the trigger.
THOOM-THOOM-THOOM!
The turret didn't fire bullets; it fired concentrated payloads of explosive plasma. The recoil was massive, but the tank treads on Ren's legs locked into the ground, absorbing the force.
The first shot caught the lead wolf in the chest, vaporizing it instantly in a cloud of digital pixels.
The second and third shots curved through the air—homing rounds. They weaved past a fleeing group of students, missing them by inches, only to slam into two monsters flanking from the right.
[KILL CONFIRMED + 100 GP]
[KILL CONFIRMED + 100 GP]
The remaining two wolves leaped. Ren didn't shoot. He spun.
The white scarf around his neck hardened into a steel whip, slashing outward. It decapitated one wolf mid-air.
As the final wolf landed in front of him, claws raised to strike, Ren engaged the treads on his feet.
VROOOOM!
He skated forward at blinding speed, closing the distance instantly. He slammed the barrel of the cannon directly into the monster's gut.
"Point blank."
BOOM.
The blast blew a hole through the creature and the three trees behind it.
The courtyard fell silent, save for the sobbing of survivors and the distant wail of sirens. The smoke cleared, revealing Ren standing amidst the dissipating pixels of the defeated monsters.
He disengaged the transformation of his helmet, the faceplate sliding back to reveal his bored expression. He looked at the radar display projected from his belt phone.
A red dot pinged. Then another. Then twenty more.
"Tsk," Ren clicked his tongue, swiping the holographic hair from his eyes. "There are more of them than I thought."
He wasn't talking about the monsters.
His radar showed 20 Players in the vicinity.
"The mobs are just the appetizer," Ren muttered, cranking the lever on his belt again, the engine noise revving up. "The real annoyance is about to show up."
[ROUND 1: SURVIVAL RATE 80%]
"Time to hunt."
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