The Tournaments on the spherical planet of Radius RR 6 are quite the spectacle to behold. Competitors from all over the Realm and other Realms come seeking the same reward: a single wish that can grant them anything they desire. The rules of the Tournament are simple, and signing up requires no process other than showing up, first come first serve. Of course, there is one catch: the battles in the Tournaments are to the death, with no exceptions save for the most edge cases. There is only one victor, and the rest perish. There was one occurrence where two individuals entered as a team and won, but they were still marked as the same competitor, rather than separate, and after their victory, this was decided to be a banned method of entering the Tournament going forwards. The Tournaments are overseen by one of the three fabled Kings of Radius: Ciqufrinz the Foolish, along with his trusty advisor: Advisor to the Overseer of the Arena, abbreviated to Attota. The Arena in question is the setting of the Tournaments, located deep beneath the surface of Radius RR 6. It is a large complex consisting of numerous facilities, such as shops and training rooms, as well as smaller sub-arenas, and, of course, the Grand Arena, reserved for the actual Tournament itself, which is surrounded by spectator seats.

"Now...I know all of you are excited for our upcoming Tournament, but before we begin, allow us to introduce the competitors! Only one of these brave - or foolish - souls will make it out of here alive, so be ready to place your bets!" Ciqufrinz speaks over the intercom system of the Arena, causing a hush to fall over the crowds that have gathered. Every screen in the building displays a live feed of the Grand Arena, where thirty-two individuals of numerous shapes and sizes have been put into a circle. The spotlight overhead first falls onto what appears to be a young adult, wearing a propeller hat bearing a familiar logo.

"First up! You all know him, it's our only ever repeat contender: Billy Super Smash! A member of the Smash Brother family cursed with backwards aging, who seeks a cure to his condition! Such a noble cause."

Billy waves at the crowd, and is mostly met with boos from fans who are tired of seeing him participating in the Tournament. The spotlight moves over to the next contender, who is currently counting his fingers intently.

"OF course, you already all knew about the last guy, so let's get into our ACTUAL contenders that people care about! Introducing Bringo! Self-proclaimed bingo champion, and obsessed with things that exist in groups of five! What causes this obsession? Only he knows. What is he fighting for? Whatever it is, you can bet he's gonna ask for five of it."

Bringo looks up, leering at the crowd and its disorderliness. He can hardly stand looking at something that isn't evenly distributed into fives. The spotlight moves over again, shining on a gray-haired man with a white outfit and cape, standing sternly with his hands crossed in front of him.

"This oldie over here is Jeorge Garrison! That's Jeorge spelled with a 'J', if you weren't aware. Equipped with a military-grade laser pistol, Jeorge plans on putting his skills to use in a simple but effective way!"

"We will win this. We are not blind, we see the path to success clear as day." Jeorge declares in a booming voice, giving a stiff nod as the spotlight moves over to a stout lad, clad in armor with what appear to be boxing gloves built onto it.

"Look familiar to anyone else? Well, this is Garf, the younger brother of one of our former champions, the infamous Garfunkel, who won alongside his teammate, Simon! Certainly less of the strong and silent type than his sibling, but he's chock-full of vigor."

Garf hops in place a few times and punches at the air, before waving at the spectator seats, where the aforementioned Garfunkel is seated in the back, along with Simon, in the section reserved for former victors. A smile crosses Garfunkel's stoic face as he returns the wave to his brother, as the spotlight pans to a flamboyantly dressed man with a rose in his mouth, who promptly bows to the crowd and is met with a mixture of boos and cheers.

"Of course, who could forget. We're 'honored' to have the one and only Kyle the Performer participating in this Tournament! He's made a name for himself over the years, and it certainly isn't a good one, but nobody has the guts to stand up to him. Will that change in this Tournament, when lives are on the line? Only one way to find out."

Kyle sneers as he stands up from the bow, proudly holding his hands at his hips as the spotlight moves on to a shrouded figure wearing a long robe.

"Another one bathed in infamy, it's Palpiturn! He's betrayed just about everyone he's ever worked with, but somehow, nobody ever sees it coming. Let's see how far that gets him in a fight to the death."

Palpiturn doesn't respond, and the spotlight swiftly moves on, illuminating a small, green-skinned humanoid wearing wrinkled clothes.

"Here we have Sprinkleman, the Regional Manager of Goblins! He's small, and not exactly a fighter, but he's determined to prove his worth against the Goblin King, who we'll get to in just a bit."

Sprinkleman blows a kiss at the crowd and snickers as the spotlight moves on to someone fully equipped in athletic gear. A large portion of the crowd hoots and hollers, cheering wildly.

"A fan-favorite contender, we have Hockey Question Mark! A professional athlete - no, THE professional athlete - in everything EXCEPT for hockey. How ironic."

Hockey makes a gesture for the crowd to quiet down, frowning slightly as the spotlight moves over to a somewhat bulky woman in a chef's outfit.

"Though you all don't know her, this is actually Pecha, the royal cook who works for my brother, Diametre, who I'm sure you're all familiar with as being the King of this planet. From what I hear, it took some serious talking to get Diametre to agree to let her enter."

Pecha nods, adjusting her chef hat as the spotlight moves on to a creature made mostly of black rock, with a book in hand.

"This fella calls itself 'Frostwalker'. Nobody is quite sure who made it, but it's been running a successful enchanting business on its own. Maybe it was just born from the ground itself, who knows?"

Frostwalker hums and continues flipping through its book. The spotlight moves over another individual, with dark red eyes and yellow irises to accompany his piercing stare.

"As promised, it's Gibble the Goblin King! Here with a very ambitious goal: promoting himself to a Goblin God! Now that's what I call a motive!"

Gibble smiles and crosses his arms, and the spotlight moves on again, landing over a completely unremarkable man.

"We don't really know anything about this guy. He just says that his name is Deryl, and when we asked what sorts of powers he had, he says he has nothing. Don't know why he's participating in this death tournament, but hey, to each their own."

"Hey, this place has a history of unexpected champions, right? What's more unexpected than a guy with absolutely no special abilities coming out on top?" Deryl chimes in, but gets no response, other than the spotlight moving on to the next contender, a small robot with a clock built into it.

"This here is the Time Robit. An experimental machine that was entered into the Tournament by an anonymous inventor to test its powers. Supposedly, it can control time."

The machine simply stands still as its clock ticks forwards, and after an awkward silence, the spotlight moves over to a rabid raccoon, which is in a cage.

"This is, uh. Well, no beating around the bush, this is just a feral raccoon. We found it in the dumpster, and thought it would be funny to put it in the Tournament. Hopefully it is!"

The spotlight moves on to a barely-visible metal object on the ground, which hops up and down upon being illuminated.

"Eager as always, it's Vullet, the magnificent self-shooting bullet, which can also feel pain! Can't really talk, but from what we understand, it's pretty excited to be here."

The bullet bobs up and down in what is presumably a nod, and the spotlight moves over to a man with a very well-stocked tool belt.

"This is Dave the Tool Guy! We called him in to fix a leak, but he was more interested in joining the fight! Just know, Dave, neither death nor victory will excuse you from dealing with that leak."

Dave gives a thumbs up, and the spotlight goes over to what appears to be an empty space, but upon further inspection, a tiny, bipedal ant is standing in the center of the light, twirling around a knitting needle as though it's a lance.

"Representing our very own lovely planet of Radius RR 6 is Antoinette! She may be small, but she's loud and proud!"

"DAMN RIGHT I AM! BOOYAH!" Antoinette strikes a pose, which the audience can't really see due to her size. The spotlight moves on to another bug-like creature, albeit much taller.

"Supposedly born from a particularly unpleasant nightmare, this demon is known as Celebra! Are you scared yet? Well, only time will tell if you SHOULD be."

Celebra simply stares at the crowd, silently gazing at them as the spotlight moves over to a man in a yellow-green superhero outfit, who flexes when the spotlight lands on him.

"Secret identity unknown, it's The Chartreuse Comet! Will his out-of-this-world speed and strength demolish the competition, or have his days of heroism seen their end?"

The Chartreuse Comet continues striking poses, and then gestures for the spotlight to move on, and it does, now hovering over an intimidating robot with red eyes.

"LX-66, a robot made for killing. Entered this Tournament with the intention of freeing itself from its built-in intelligence limiters, which are intended to prevent it from becoming too powerful. This can only end well."

LX-66's eyes glow briefly, and the spotlight moves on to an elderly man, who seems far too feeble based on appearance to be participating in something like this.

"Now this one is certainly quite the person. Name's Nicolas Carcelo, and, well, he's requested that HE be the one to explain who he is."

"Yes, yes, thank you for listening to my request. I am participating in this Tournament not for any particular reward, but rather because I have nothing to lose. I was almost the Crusty Old Man, but Elleve was chosen in my stead." Nicolas cracks his knuckles, and the crowd goes silent to process this information. A lot of audience members seem to have a sudden change of plans in who they place their bets on. The spotlight moves on nonetheless, now stopping on another shrouded figure, whose form seems to be shifting beneath their cloak.

"This one calls itself 'Dot'. We don't know anything about it, or them, or whatever it's supposed to be called, but it's kind of scary. Seems like a promising contender, though."

Dot remains still and silent as the spotlight moves on to an unruly-looking man wearing a bloodstained apron.

"Going by the name of Cheatsmith, this madman has long since turned to the dark side of meat making. Sometimes, people who enter his shop never come back out, if you catch my drift."

Cheatsmith snickers and raises a butcher knife, moving it in a chopping motion and holding a finger over his lips, as the spotlight focuses on a shorter, eyepatch-wearing alien, who is currently bobbing his head as though listening to music.

"Swagg here is a DJ from a distant planet, but he's got a dark side, too. He came here seeking a forbidden binaural beat which will let him control the minds of his fans. Spooky!"

Swagg pretends to spin some discs on a turntable, while the spotlight continues its progression around the circle, stopping on a small, greasy rat.

"This nasty boy is Drongo. He was very confident that he would be able to cheat his way to victory, so of course, we're very excited to see what he has in store for us."

The rat chitters and rubs its hands together schemingly as the spotlight moves over to a tall, slender being which seems to emanate light.

"Stick with us folks, we're almost done here. The bloodshed will come soon enough. Fusiel here is an angel who seeks to purify our sinful world. I mean, if you ask me, joining an underground death tournament is pretty sinful in and of itself, but I'm not the one who signed the papers."

"It's a forgivable sin if the outcome goes as planned." Fusiel states, shrugging. The spotlight moves over to a cup of yellow-orange liquid.

"Ok, so. I promise there's an explanation for this one, buuuut, I don't know what it is. This is Markiplier's Piss. It came with a signed document verifying that it is indeed what it says on the tin, and supposedly, it's alive. Make of that what you will."

The spotlight quickly moves on to a redheaded boy in black attire.

"This bad boy is Harold Ford. He's committed crimes right in front of police, and then gotten out of punishment with his smooth tongue."

Harold makes a crude gesture with his tongue and fingers. The spotlight moves on, and another comes on so that the next two competitors are lit up at the same time.

"Going by Abercrombie and Fitch respectively, this duo tried to enter as a tag team, but we told them they couldn't do that, so now they're separate. Just hope they don't have to fight each other, heh."

The two both scowl, scoffing as one of the spotlights turns back off and the other moves on to the penultimate contender.

"Almost there, folks. This is Bird Keeper Rod, and he's got some wacky tricks up his sleeve, which are sure to make your jaw drops and your nose bleed, so be ready."
Rod smiles and winks, while the spotlight moves on to the last new competitor, a clown.

"Last but probably not least, it's Clown in the Background 1! When we asked him what he could do, he just stood in the back of the room, and three bolts of lightning almost struck him at the same time, only to be deflected by a large china plate flying between him and the roof. Needless to say, he's probably got some funny business in store for us."

The clown simply nods, and all thirty-two competitors are lowered out of the Grand Arena.

"Well, without further ado, the Tournament will begin shortly! Place your bets, say goodbye to your participating loved ones, et cetera et cetera, and of course get ready to watch the show!" Ciqufrinz turns off the speaker, and takes a deep breath. "Damn, that was a lot of talking."