A Kisaragi Station Belonging to One Person Alone! The Black Phone Booth Disaster! The Ghost God Great Demon Thrown from the Train

A manga artist.

It was a profession that wove dreams for others, forcing all manner of bizarre fantasies into black-and-white panels and collected volumes.

Some people had loved manga since childhood. They loved chūnibyō and fantasies, so when they grew up, they worked hard to become manga artists.

Though they had achieved nothing major, they had won a newcomer award once. They were somewhat famous, and had clawed their way through the torment of deadlines to survive in the industry.

--Even if they kept saying they were doing it for the readers.

At its root, however, manga and creation were deeply personal matters.

Even if ten thousand people said they wanted to see Ending A, if the author wanted Ending B, the course of the manga would change.

And so the logic would collapse.

"Mechanical God."

Readers called such illogical behavior this.

Such a manga would be cursed as trash by ten thousand people, never to recover.

Right now, a third-rate manga artist was doing exactly that.

"This is a trial."

"Countless geniuses have gathered from all over the world. Based on how many levels they clear in the trial secret realm, they'll be ranked on a black stone monument."

"Among them is a [hero] who once saved an ordinary high school girl."

"Since he's a hero, he should have a [weapon] worthy of one."

"So, what kind of weapon should the hero hold?"

"A: An indestructible hero's sword that can cut through anything.

B: An ancient staff that can cast spells instantly and amplify their power."

"And I choose C—a colossal cleaver forty meters long, one that only the hero can lift and swing with ease, annihilating everything in the path of its blade."

"So, the next time the hero enters the trial, such a cleaver will appear in