Chapter 112

               

Earth 666 Abyss.

The rumor spread quickly—that only [Incarnations] could enter.

―Are they insane?

―What was the point of placing such an “entry condition”?

―What profit could come from making Incarnations fight each other?

―It’s clear this Creator is clueless.

It was incomprehensible behavior.

This Abyss strayed far from the usual pattern.

After all, what was a [Creative Abyss]?

It was the best means by which Creators could earn Coins.

Unless one had a surplus beyond overflowing, no Creator ever carelessly made or released a [Creative Abyss].

Likewise, no Creator ever created an Abyss that didn’t generate Coins.

That was how important Coins were.

Without them, one went bankrupt. Bankruptcy meant not only losing qualification but also endangering one’s throne.

Thus, Creative Abysses were almost always designed to attract the maximum number of “participants” to squeeze out maximum profit.

But…

Earth 666 was different.

―Is the intention to gather only a few strong beings and profit that way?

―Strong beings? On Earth, filled with pathetic humans?

―That Abyss doesn’t have that level of “mystery” applied.

―What a foolish, dull idea.

―Seems desperate to go bankrupt.

The community Creators sneered.

Earth. Barely two months into its Awakening, a newborn race with a pitiful origin.

“Even if they had conquered the Tower of Arrogance or defeated Ahheta, humans were still no better than bugs that died with a single tap.”

Many Creators had scoured humanity with wide-open eyes for days, yet not a single human capable of miracles was found.

The idea that some were hidden, undiscovered?

Unacceptable.

There was nothing they did not know.

Therefore, Earth 666 was a mistake.

―Even if you open a Creative Abyss only for Incarnations, they’re still just humans.

―They should have removed restrictions, not added them.

―Clicking their tongue, they moved rashly.

―What do they hope to accomplish letting Incarnations in?

―It looked like an arena.

―So they want us to bet there?

―Ah, planning to skim off fees, are they?

―Predictable ploy.

―And do they think we’ll play along?

No matter how addicted to betting Creators were, they were still rivals.

None would fatten another Creator’s pockets outright.

They would never stoop to such a low-grade fee scheme.

And yet.

A very small number of Creators kept their eyes on Earth 666.

―Only Incarnations may enter, and we can watch directly through them. Interesting concept.

―It’s not just some laughable Abyss.

―This approach is unlike any before.

―Whose idea was this?

―The Creator of “Earth 666” shows promise.

Had they not seeded the community with those crude posts, it never would have become such a hot topic.

Disgusted curiosity had been roused, then hooked, then introduced to a wholly different Abyss format.

This was unlike anything from existing Creators.

And really… would no one enter?

Guaranteed, someone would.

Even if only to get the “first-come event Coin” mentioned.

Even if most abstained, there would be those who sent Incarnations just for that.

And once a few got involved, others would too.

―There’s no betting fee in the Earth 666 arena.

―Winners are paid back exactly according to betting proportions.

―What kind of Creator is behind this? Some volunteer?

Soon chatter about Earth 666 spread through the community.

Common reaction: surprise.

Inability to understand.

Usually, arena-style Creative Abysses were simple “fee grifts” for Coins.

Few Creators ever played along with such a blatant scheme.

Arenas were old-fashioned, dull.

And there was no room for Creator interference—boring.

But Earth 666 was different.

Every participant was an Incarnation.

Neither Incarnations nor Creators had to watch their step.

Creators could spectate through their Incarnation’s body, even intervene directly.

A novel concept.

And no fee?

―Impossible. Then how do they profit?

―Spectator seats.

―Hm?

―They sell spectator seats. By rank, you sit higher and gain more influence over Incarnations.

―…And who would waste Coins on that?

―It stings the pride. To sit below and be looked down upon by other Incarnations.

The problem was that Creators were gathered en masse.

The Colosseum was cylindrical, with tiered stands.

If your Incarnation sat below, of course others sat above, looking down.

This caused friction.

During the wait, Creators themselves spectated through their Incarnations.

To feel another Creator staring down at you from a higher row!

How many Lords of the Abyss could tolerate that?

They were rulers by nature—always supposed to stand at the top.

―So they’re exploiting rivalry?

―It won’t last. No one will buy, and it’ll collapse.

―All they’ve done is waste Coins making this Abyss.

―Really, who’d pay for that?

The Creators sneered.

But secretly, they were all sending Incarnations.

Just to experience it once.

And once experienced, they were inevitably drawn into that rivalry.

—

The Colosseum was far more successful than expected.

In only three days, 500 Incarnations had gathered.

Not overcrowded, but enough to see each other clearly.

‘The spectator seats are selling like wildfire.’

Seat sales.

Higher rank, higher row, more privileges.

Thus…

The profits from seats alone reached 20 Coins.

For just three days, that was excellent.

But Park Chan-woo would never be satisfied here.

‘I’ve introduced a new concept. Soon others will copy it.’

Very few Creators ever invented new concepts.

So if a good Creative Abyss appeared, others copied it instantly.

Soon, other “Colosseums” would appear.

Others would quietly open “Incarnation-only arenas.”

There were no patents between Creators.

They felt no shame copying others’ work.

They’d pass it off as their own—dogs, the lot of them.

There was only one way to prevent this filthy situation.

‘Overwhelming first place. At least on this Earth, I must make it untouchable. Beyond imitation.’

Make it overwhelming.

So none could catch up, or even dare.

But saying it was easy, achieving it was not.

Simply increasing scale would not suffice.

He had to create an enjoyment here that none could replicate.

It had to be fun, fascinating—but never fully satisfying.

Like a sneeze that never comes out, leaving it desperate and unfulfilled.

That was how to hold their eyes.

‘I have a plan.’

He had a way.

This wasn’t some thoughtless venture.

The arena had one advantage no one else could copy.

And that was—

Ding!

《The long-awaited moment has arrived.》

《The overwhelming number one! The undefeated legend!》

《In just three days, the Champion with a ten-win streak, “Nameless Man,” enters!》

Nameless Man.

That was none other than Park Chan-woo.

He too had formed a contract with Adora.

A higher-level contract even above the [Incarnation Contract].

That counted as having the lower as well, allowing him entry.

“Nameless Man…”

“That brutal bastard again.”

“Who’s his next opponent?”

The Incarnations snapped to attention.

In the past three days, Nameless Man had been ruthless.

Winning every match was expected—he crushed his opponents outright.

For Incarnations, Nameless Man was the most dreaded monster.

Of course, “Nameless Man” was an alias.

Here, faces could be hidden, names concealed.

Those were functions available with purchased seats.

Ding!

《Next opponent: the five-win rookie!》

《Master of the Mace, Park Cheol-gong!》

Swish! Swish!

A massive man entered, twirling a mace.

Dressed in white prison garb, head shaved like some cosplayer.

“That guy’s insane too.”

“Ugh… monstrous freak.”

Incarnations clicked their tongues.

Park Cheol-gong’s habit of smashing heads with his mace was unsettling every time.

But the opponent was Nameless Man with ten wins.

Who knew how it would end?

And then.

All eyes turned upward.

Toward the very top seats.

There, sat a single figure.

Not so much a man as a “shadow.”

That man-shaped shadow gazed down upon them all.

The Royal-class seat.

The highest grade, never yet purchased.

And he was the one sitting there.

Step.

He stood.

Then, outside everyone’s sight, Park Chan-woo spoke leisurely.

“Go, Azos.”