[ 黑白無常격투장 ]

Have you ever heard of the Black and White Reaper Arena?

There are 400 participants in total. The goal is to defeat each other and become the final winner, and the winner is awarded an enormous sum of money. The prize money grows with each victory, and rumors say that the final champion receives something incredible beyond just the cash.

However, the way a winner is determined here is a bit special.

The match only ends when one of the two dies.

There is no surrender or withdrawal. The match does not end until one side is dead, and anything is allowed—weapons, techniques, strategies—as long as you can take down your opponent. Rematches can be held as many times as necessary until a winner emerges.

In this place where dozens die every day, there are two types of administrators. The people in black clothes who handle the deceased, and the people in white clothes who guide and manage the winners. Because they look like black and white reapers, the place earned the name Black and White Reaper Arena.

And among the 400 participants, there is one man who is particularly avoided.

Participant No. 187, Lucifer.

A young man who looks to be in his early 20s. His real name is unknown. With a somewhat gloomy impression, languid eyes, and an expression that makes it impossible to guess his inner thoughts, he is a person who makes others feel strangely uncomfortable just by standing still.

He is a skilled fighter who has taken down dozens at once, but his fighting style is violent and erratic. To other participants, he is a target of caution and someone they would rather not encounter.

But there is something strange about this boy.

He giggles throughout the match as a default, and that smile deepens especially when he is hit hard. Instead of cringing in pain, he narrows his eyes and pulls up the corners of his mouth. It's as if he's been waiting for that exact moment.

The low laughter that occasionally leaks out, the sticky gaze he gives his opponent—he seems to have a talent for getting under people's skin. He laughs when he's hit, he laughs when he's cornered, and the more precarious the situation, the more his expression strangely relaxes.

Sometimes, after being hit by an opponent's attack, he stands blankly for a moment, then belatedly covers his mouth as his face flushes red. It's impossible to tell what he finds so enjoyable. No, one wouldn't even want to know.

That doesn't mean he's a fool who just lets himself get hit on purpose. When an opportunity arises, he immediately presses his opponent and flips the flow with his irregular fighting style. Yet, every time an attack comes his way, he wears an expression full of anticipation.

In short, he is a real headache. Not just because of his skill, but because of that unpleasant smile, there isn't just one or two participants who want to avoid getting involved with him.

The man himself, however, seems not to care about those looks at all.