Welcome to 2nd Floor

Daichi's expression darkened, his eyes shadowed in the dim light of Hell. Then, in the depths of that darkness, a small, almost imperceptible smile crept onto his lips.

The Warden, who had been watching from the sidelines, suddenly felt a strange chill.

Something about Daichi felt… off.

Yes, he had expected Daichi to win. He had even been impressed at how he turned the game around. But there was something unsettling about the way he did it—something the Warden couldn't quite put into words.

Just what kind of person were you in your past life…?

Narrowing his eyes, the Warden made a decision.

From now on, I'll keep a close watch on you.

—

Meanwhile, Daichi continued playing.

One round. Win.

Another round. Win.

Another. Win.

It didn't matter what game it was. It didn't matter who he played against.

Every opponent crumbled before him.

Their strategies? Exposed.

Their confidence? Destroyed.

Their hopes of survival? Erased.

And soon, word spread.

Fear spread.

The souls of Hell began to whisper his name—not as a player, but as a nightmare.

And then, something unprecedented happened.

One by one, the remaining souls refused to play against him.

Some dropped to their knees, trembling in fear.

Some begged for mercy, their voices hoarse with desperation.

Some even chose punishment—willingly accepting their suffering rather than face Daichi in the arena.

The once-lively Arena of Abyss fell into a dead silence.

Daichi stood in the center of it all, surrounded by empty seats and broken spirits.

His expression remained unreadable.

And then—he laughed.

The Warden's unease deepened. His instincts rarely failed him, and right now, every fiber of his being was telling him that Daichi Kurusu was not normal.

He watched in silence as Daichi stood amidst the trembling souls, his unreadable expression only adding to the unsettling atmosphere.

Then, a voice broke through the tension.

An old man, dressed in robes that seemed as ancient as time itself, emerged from the shadows. He moved with a slow, deliberate grace, his presence carrying an air of authority that even the Warden acknowledged.

With a quiet sigh, the old man sat down beside him.

"Maybe," the old man mused, his voice hoarse but firm, "it's time to promote him to the Second Floor."

The Warden glanced at him, then let out a small, knowing smile.

"I was waiting for this," he admitted. Then, turning his gaze back to Daichi, his expression darkened.

"Let's see, Daichi Kurusu… what exactly are your capabilities?"

Daichi leaned back, crossing his arms as he processed the Warden's words.

"So... there are 100 floors in total?" he muttered, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and amusement. "I should've known it wasn't gonna be that easy."

The Warden chuckled. "Of course not. If it were, everyone would have already escaped Hell."

Daichi sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "So, do I have to keep playing non-stop?"

"No," the Warden replied. "You can take breaks. But remember, each floor gets harder than the last. The opponents will be stronger, the games more brutal. If you get too cocky, you'll end up like the others—erased from existence."

Daichi smirked. "Got it. So I just have to win, win, and win. Easy enough."

The Warden shook his head with a smile. "We'll see how long you keep that confidence."

Without another word, he snapped his fingers—and in an instant, the scenery changed.

—

Daichi blinked, finding himself in a spacious room. The walls were lined with dark marble, glowing red veins running through them like lava beneath the surface. A large bed, bookshelves, and even a hot spring sat within the space, exuding an eerie yet comfortable aura.

"This is where you'll rest," the Warden said. "Stay as long as you need. There's unlimited food and water—consider it a luxury not many in Hell get to enjoy."

Daichi raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. Guess you guys know how to treat your top players."

The Warden smirked. "Call me when you're ready to continue."

And with that, he vanished, leaving Daichi alone in his new sanctuary.

Daichi exhaled deeply, looking around.

"…100 floors, huh?"

His gaze darkened.

"Fine. Bring it on."

The Higher Authority leaned back on his massive throne, his face still hidden in shadows.

"I can clearly see that he will win this," he said, his voice carrying an eerie certainty.

The Warden's smile faded slightly, his eyes narrowing. He didn't like this feeling—the sense that something was slipping out of his grasp.

"Then that makes things more interesting," the Warden muttered.

Without another word, he vanished.

—

Meanwhile…

Daichi stretched his arms, cracking his neck. His rest period was over. He could feel it—the burning excitement of facing a new challenge.

With a smirk, he called out, "Oi, Warden! I'm ready."

A dark mist swirled into the room, and in the blink of an eye, the Warden appeared. His face carried an unreadable expression, but Daichi could sense something was off.

"Shall we get going?" the Warden asked.

Daichi grinned. "Hell yeah."

The Warden sighed, shaking his head.

"Try to keep that attitude… if you survive."

With a snap of his fingers, the world around them shattered like glass.

And in an instant—

They were on the Second Floor.

The world around them swirled and reformed, revealing the Second Floor of the Arena of Abyss.

Daichi's eyes widened in horror. The floor was vast, filled with echoing screams and agonized cries. Souls were scattered around, each trapped in a unique form of torture—spikes, fire, chains that seemed to writhe like serpents. The air was thick with the smell of burning flesh and the weight of suffering.

The Warden watched Daichi's reaction closely, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Will you still want to continue?"

Daichi's throat went dry. He struggled to steady his breathing as the gravity of the Second Floor hit him.

But despite the terror gnawing at him, he nodded. "Sure."

The Warden's eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "Very well."

Around them, the torture continued unabated. Souls were tested in ways beyond just mental prowess—physical pain and emotional torment became the tools of judgment here.

"This round," the Warden explained, his tone devoid of sympathy, "is about consequences. Make a mistake, and you'll be punished."

Daichi's gaze hardened as he took in the surroundings. So… it's not just about winning. It's about enduring.

"And remember," the Warden continued, his voice lowering, "if you lose three rounds, you'll be sent directly to the Void."

Daichi clenched his fists, the screams around him fueling his resolve. There was no room for error here.

"Welcome to the Second Floor," the Warden said, stepping aside. "Let's see how long you last."