In the beginning, there was chaos. Then came structure. Then came regulations. Then came 9-5s. Then came the Universal Office of Competitive Absurdities, which decided that intergalactic super beings that stood far above your average cosmic mage or warrior, probably needed something to do on weekends.
Welcome to the Universal Tournament of Ridiculously Overpowered Abilities.
It begins, as all awesome stories do, with a series of warriors pouring through a hyperspace gate in order to register for the tournament in time.
Sereth walked through the gate and looked around at his surroundings. He was tall, probably around 6'2, had bright yellow eyes, and longish white hair. He had appeared in what looked like a gigantic reception room where all sorts of people were checking in to either watch, or participate in the tournament. There were tons of receptionists and clerks and golden transporters on both sides to teleport new contestants to their quarters for the tournament.
He was a little surprised at how many people were going to be involved.
As he approached a check-in desk, various characters eyed him, sensing something about him that was different than the rest. The clerk spoke: "Your name, sir?"
"Vaelwyn, Sereth."
"Oh! I've heard about you! You're the one who-"
Sereth leaned in and pressed his finger against her lips and shushed her.
"Shh... Don't spoil the surprise..."
Sereth signed in and was officially registered for the tournament, and as he walked to a transporter, he bumped a man who looked to be about his age if not younger. He was dressed in all black samurai garments, and wore his dark blue hair in a topknot.
"Watch where you're going..." The man spoke with a calm, yet menacing tone.
"My bad." Sereth glared at him and stood on a transporter before vanishing.
The samurai approached the desk and the clerk spoke nervously, to him
"Oh-h-hello... Your name, s-sir?"
The man touched the handle of his sword and the pen instantly disintegrated.
"Kagemori... Masaru."
Masaru departed quickly after telling the clerk his name, and vanished away into a transporter.
More and more people began to flood the room vanish into transporters. Some people looked strong, some weak, and some looked like they were lost, but that would be impossible considering how the tournament was being held in a secluded star system.
The next important person to appear out of the gate was a giant man with tannish skin, he was probably around 6'8, he had spiky black hair and big red eyes. He was incredibly strong looking and stomped his way to the desk.
"These candidates are all so scary..." the poor clerk thought to herself.
"Uhh... Name...? Please?"
The beastly man replied:
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I am Torvak Thorne!"
He snatched the pen, almost crushing it in his gigantic hand and scribbled his name on the form. His laugh boomed through the room as he stomped off to a transporter.
At this rate, the clerk was about ready to check out for the day, but then she saw her grandfather, who had been dead for 30 years, casually walk across the floor before vanishing into thin air. She ran screaming with her arms flailing and a new, more composed clerk took her place.
A young boy, he looked to be maybe 14 years old, approached the desk next. He had spunky orange hair, and a tie died hoodie, and was a lot less menacing than the rest.
"Oh Hello! are you here to register?" The clerk asked happily.
The boy responded in an aloof tone, "I already did" and sure enough, somehow, the clerk was already holding the signed paper. Signed by Aeon Kairos.
"Wait how did you-"
"Say, did anybodies relative walk by, and then vanish?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind..." Aeon hobbled over to a transporter.
The sign ups were about to close, and at the last possible second, a very strange man came through the gate. He wore a cowboy hat, a tiny neon pink skin tight vest, polar bear fur pants, and car mirrors for shoes.
The clerk, still flabbergasted by Aeon, asked:
"And you are?"
"Truth is the wind that never forgets to fold the mountains."
"What the hell?"
"The river flows backward when the stones learn the language of flight"
The clerk realized that his must be Thalen Skierth, who had a reputation for only speaking in strange quotes, And she watched in confusion as he moonwalked into a transporter.
All the warriors had clocked in, and the tournament would start the next morning at 9, and end at 5.