Chapter 106: The Mortal to God Game

Chapter 106: Chapter 106: The Mortal to God Game

Elara choked.

She had been standing near the edge of the clearing, her body still and her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before her. She had been watching, her gaze moving from Daniel to Zariod and back again. She had been listening, her ears straining to catch every word of the conversation. She had been trying to process everything that was happening, her mind struggling to keep up with the rapid pace of events.

But when Daniel said he had a date with a very hot beauty, she choked.

Her face went red, the color flooding her cheeks like a tidal wave. Her eyes went wide, her pupils dilating with shock and embarrassment. Her mouth opened and closed, the words failing to form, her mind blanking as she struggled to respond. She didn’t know what to say, her vocabulary abandoning her. She didn’t know what to do, her body frozen in place. She didn’t know how to react, her emotions a chaotic mess of embarrassment and confusion and something else, something she didn’t want to name.

Zariod looked at her, his black eyes moving over her face. Her red cheeks, the color bright and telling. Her wide eyes, the expression transparent. Her flustered expression, the emotion written across her features like a book.

He smiled, a slow, amused smile that spread across his monstrous features. "She is one lucky human," he said, his voice filled with a knowing amusement.

Elara’s face went redder, the color deepening to a shade that was almost crimson. She looked away, her eyes fixed on the ground. She crossed her arms, her posture defensive. She tried to look angry, her features arranging themselves into an expression of indignation. She failed, her embarrassment too evident to hide.

Daniel didn’t notice. He was looking at Zariod, his expression calm, his eyes curious.

"So," he said, his voice steady. "The offer?"

Zariod nodded, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Yes. The offer."

He gestured at the ground, his clawed hand sweeping in a wide arc. "This is going to take some time. Take a seat."

Daniel looked at the ground, his eyes scanning the empty space. Then at Zariod, his expression confused. Then at the ground again.

"What seat?" he asked, his voice genuinely puzzled.

A chair appeared behind him.

It was a normal chair, simple and unassuming. White, the color clean and bright. No design, the surface smooth and plain. No decoration, the form functional and basic. Just a plain wooden chair, the kind you might find in a modest home or a simple tavern.

Daniel looked at it, his expression thoughtful. Then at Zariod, his eyes questioning. Then at the chair again, his gaze assessing.

He sat down, his body settling into the seat with a casual ease.

Then he looked at Zariod.

Zariod was sitting on a throne.

It was massive, the size dwarfing everything around it. Golden, the color bright and gleaming. Ornate, the surface covered in intricate carvings and delicate filigree. Covered in jewels and carvings and symbols, the decorations speaking of power and authority and ancient lineage. It glowed with power, the light pulsing with a rhythm that seemed almost alive. It pulsed with authority, the weight of the throne pressing down on everyone who saw it. It was a throne meant for gods, a seat of power that belonged to something beyond mortal comprehension.

Daniel looked at his plain white chair. Then at Zariod’s golden throne. Then back at his chair.

He shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in a casual gesture. "Nice throne," he said, his voice genuine.

Zariod smiled, his expression pleased. "Thank you."

A table appeared.

It was long, the surface stretching across the clearing like a bridge. Massive, the size dwarfing everything around it. It stretched across the clearing, the length reaching from one end to the other. It was made of dark wood, the color deep and rich. Polished, the surface gleaming with a soft sheen. Gleaming, the wood catching the light and throwing it back in soft reflections. It was covered in food and drink, the spread lavish and extravagant. Fruits, the colors bright and inviting. Meats, the smell rich and savory. Breads, the loaves golden and warm. Wines, the bottles dark and elegant. Everything, the table laden with more food than anyone could possibly eat.

Different chairs appeared around the table, each one unique. Different sizes, the chairs ranging from small to large. Different styles, the designs varying from simple to ornate. Different designs, the forms reflecting the personalities of those who would sit in them.

Then Zariod teleported them all.

Daniel was sitting at one end of the table, his plain white chair a stark contrast to the grandeur around him. His calm expression, his face unreadable. His hands on the table, his fingers resting on the polished wood.

Lyra was sitting beside him, her chair elegant and simple. Wooden, the material warm and natural. The design was understated, the form graceful without being ostentatious.

Fluffy was sitting beside her, her chair small and cushioned. Comfortable, the padding soft and inviting. The design was cute, the form fitting for someone of her size.

Cheeky was sitting across from them, her chair tall and thin. Metallic, the material cold and industrial. The design was functional, the form reflecting her practical nature.

Paul was sitting near the middle, his chair comfortable and padded. Relaxing, the design meant for long periods of sitting. The form was sturdy, the construction solid.

Elara was sitting near Paul, her chair practical and sturdy. Strong, the design meant for someone who valued function over form. The construction was solid, the materials durable.

Brutus was lying on the ground, his body unconscious and still. He couldn’t sit, his form too large and too broken for any chair.

Brick Head was sitting at the far end, his chair broken and tilted. Wobbling, the legs uneven and unstable. The design was a mess, the form reflecting his chaotic nature.

Zariod sat at the head of the table, his golden throne a symbol of his power. His black eyes, the depths infinite and unreadable. His terrifying presence, the weight of his existence pressing down on everyone present.

He raised his hand, his clawed fingers spreading wide.

A wave of energy washed over them, the power radiating from his palm and spreading across the clearing.

Daniel felt it, the energy washing over him like a warm tide. His wounds healed, the cuts and bruises fading away. His bruises faded, the discolored skin returning to its normal color. His mana refilled, the energy reserves replenishing. He felt refreshed, his body feeling lighter and stronger. Reborn, his form feeling new and whole. Rejuvenated, his spirit lifting with the sudden influx of energy.

The others felt it too, the energy washing over them. Their wounds healed, the injuries disappearing. Their mana refilled, the reserves replenishing. Their exhaustion faded, the fatigue lifting. They felt better, their bodies and minds feeling refreshed. Much better, the difference almost miraculous.

Zariod lowered his hand, his expression calm.

"Now," he said, his voice carrying across the table. "Let me explain."

He leaned back in his throne, his posture relaxed. His black eyes moved over them, taking in each face, each expression, each reaction.

"You need to understand the situation," he said, his voice slow and deliberate. "The full situation, the complete picture. The complete situation, the entirety of what is happening. The situation that you have stumbled into, the circumstances that have brought you here."

He paused, letting his words sink in.

"There is a tournament," he said, his voice grave. "It happens every universal year, the event recurring with the turning of the cosmos. Thousands of worlds join, the number vast and incomprehensible. Each world sends ten members, the selection process rigorous and brutal. They fight, the combat fierce and deadly. They compete, the competition intense and unforgiving. They struggle, the effort exhausting and relentless."

He paused again, his eyes moving from face to face.

"Only one winner. Only one world. Only one champion."

He looked at Daniel, his black eyes fixed on the young human.

"This tournament is called the Mortal to God Game. I call it that because I don’t like the real name. It’s boring."

He waved a hand dismissively, his clawed fingers slicing through the air.

"The real name is the Universal Ascension Tournament. But that’s boring. So I call it the Mortal to God Game."

He paused, his expression thoughtful.

"The winner of the game becomes eligible to own a world. A whole world, the prize vast and unimaginable. To rule it, the authority absolute and unquestioned. To shape it, the power creative and limitless. To control it, the dominion total and complete."

He paused again, his eyes gleaming with a dark light.

"And they gain the rank of Lord. A god, the status divine and eternal. A ruler, the authority absolute and unquestioned. A power beyond mortal comprehension, the strength vast and terrifying."

He looked at Daniel, his gaze intense.

"The other lords are in charge of picking the members. They choose the strongest, the most powerful warriors. The smartest, the most cunning strategists. The most talented, the most gifted individuals. The most powerful, the most formidable champions."

He paused, his expression shifting to something almost sheepish.

"But I... I suck at that."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his expression surprised. "You suck at picking members?"

"Yes." Zariod nodded, his expression resigned. "I am terrible at it. I always pick the wrong people, the selection process a constant failure. The weak ones, the ones who can’t fight. The foolish ones, the ones who can’t think. The ones who lose, the ones who always fail."

He sighed, a long, tired sound that seemed to drain the energy from his body.

"So I am giving that job to you."

Daniel blinked, his expression shocked. "What?"

"You. Daniel Black. You will gather ten strong individuals, the selection process your responsibility. Ten powerful warriors, the team you build. Ten people who can win, the champions you choose."

Daniel stared at him, his mind struggling to process the words. "You want me to pick your team?"

"Yes."

"For this tournament?"

"Yes."

"The Mortal to God Game?"

"Yes."

Daniel was silent, his expression thoughtful. He was thinking, his mind working through the implications. He was processing, his thoughts organizing and analyzing. He was trying to understand, his comprehension stretching to grasp the enormity of what was being asked.

Zariod leaned forward, his black eyes fixed on Daniel.

"So," he said, his voice low and serious. "What do you say?"