Four beams of light slanted down from above, illuminating the central arena as the audience, now inside the circus tent, found their seats. Vivi took the opportunity to survey the interior. From the inside, the tent seemed far larger than it appeared outside. It comfortably accommodated the thousand attendees, with a massive, Colosseum-like circular platform dominating the center.

About seven or eight meters above the platform stood a “person,” perched on what looked like a diving board.

Vivi felt a twinge of unease. But since this event was supposed to be child-friendly, there probably wouldn’t be anything gruesome… right?

“What kind of show are they going to put on?” she overheard someone nearby ask their companion.

“I’m trying to find out, but the official website says no spoilers. There’s hardly any information available. Still, judging by the lines, plenty of people are coming back for a second or third time.”

The figure above removed their hooded cloak, revealing a furry fox face. A red fox with a bushy tail stood upright on the high platform, grinning broadly. It wore a black-and-white server’s vest. The audience erupted in hushed gasps.

For most people, their perception had been subtly altered—they believed this was high-tech animatronics or an exceptionally realistic costume. Only a few individuals recognized something genuinely abnormal.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the red fox said, bowing gracefully, “welcome to the Strange Circus. Our main performances begin at 8 p.m. But during the day, we offer you a game arena. I imagine many of you love animals and have experience training pets…”

Its ears twitched. “This is a game, a competition, and it’s designed to bring joy to everyone. There will be no harm to animals and no bloody battles. We hope everyone finds happiness in the games.”

Snap!

The fox clicked its fingers.

The “stars” hanging in the sky began to descend. Vivi and a few others recognized them for what they were: glowing, wriggling orbs. These weren’t mere decorations—they were slimes, gelatinous blobs capable of shifting their shape. Though strange, they seemed cute enough.

Speaking clearly and briskly, the fox outlined the rules of the “Pet Training Contest”:

1. Player-Slime Pairing: Each audience member would pair with a slime. The slimes could shapeshift into animals, with the realism of their transformations depending on the participant’s imagination and familiarity with the chosen creature.
2. Arena Combat: Once transformed, these “pets” would engage in non-lethal combat on the central platform. The fights were safe—no gore, no flying limbs—because they were still just slimes.
3. Revival and Creativity: Defeated slimes would return to their partners. As long as the player could imagine new forms, their slime could re-enter the arena.
4. Interactive Battle: Players would view the matches through a third-person perspective and could give direct commands during the fight.

The match would last 20 minutes. The slimes still standing by the end would determine the winners, whose owners would receive rewards.

1. Dynamic Challenges: To keep things interesting, the arena would introduce random “disasters” like floods and storms. Players could adapt their slime’s form to better navigate these obstacles.

And then there was the sneaky incentive—an accumulative points leaderboard.

At the end of the 8 p.m. circus performance, the top ten players would get a chance to compete against the circus crew. The ultimate winner would be crowned with a “mystery prize”—the friendship of the circus members.

Vivi stared at the fox, deadpan.

A “mystery prize”? Seriously, the best they could offer was friendship? She suspected the rewards would just be the same diamonds, gold, and bronze cards handed out in other games.

As the fox finished explaining, the descending slimes began to flutter about. Vivi noticed a green slime hopping onto Damian’s head, while a black, unassuming slime settled in her palm.

Vivi squinted at her new companion.

The slime, lacking eyes or any discernible features, simply sat there.

“…”

Above the Colosseum-like platform, a large countdown timer began ticking down from 30 seconds.

Nearby, Damian’s green slime transformed into a green fox. It brushed his chest with its tail before leaping onto the platform in a flash of light. Despite its fox-like appearance, it carried none of the complexities of a real animal—it was just a mimic.

Damian crossed his arms, lifting his head slightly, as if already immersed in the third-person view of his slime.

Vivi poked at the black orb in her hands. “Its realism depends on familiarity with animals, huh?”

The black slime stretched, elongating its form before promptly snapping back into a ball. Vivi considered turning it into a white horse but immediately discarded the idea—White Horse was tied to her Nightwatch vigilante identity. Next, she tried a mouse, but then thought better of it—Sheila would recognize that right away.

Finally, the black orb morphed into an unremarkable black cat.

She moved experimentally.

Her perspective shifted to hover slightly above the cat’s head. She could sense its readiness to pounce. Around her, other slimes transformed into various animals—cats, dogs, and more—as the countdown ticked closer to zero.

“Beep—”

The match began!

Lucy was seven and a half years old this year, brought to the circus by her father.

When she learned there wouldn’t be an actual performance, Lucy was disappointed for a long time. Still, she was curious about what this “game” could be. She clung to her father’s arm, waiting for him to describe the game’s content—what it looked like and how others were playing it.

Yes, she waited for him to describe everything to her.

Lucy’s world was devoid of light. She had been blind from birth.

Because her mother had been affected by Joker toxin during pregnancy, Lucy was born with congenital blindness. Thankfully, not everyone was as unlucky as her mother. Lucy had simply been dealt a difficult hand.

Her only friend was the family hamster, Jupiter. Even with Wayne Enterprises funding her eye treatment, her parents had to work harder to afford it. Most of the time, Lucy stayed home, hugging Jupiter and waiting for them to come back.

Listening to “Mr. Fox” talk, Lucy furrowed her brow. She cautiously extended her hand.

“A slime?”

Something cool pressed against her face and then fell into her lap.

It felt slippery, like jelly. For a moment, Lucy was scared, but she quickly began to imagine Jupiter. His cute little ears, his chubby belly… The only thing she couldn’t picture was Jupiter’s color.

Just as Lucy hesitated, the game began, and the small creature in her arms flew off. Lucy gasped—

Her world changed.

A flood of colors rushed into her vision, replacing the darkness. She saw a black cat, a green fox, a white dog, and a deep blue bird flapping its wings… and then—a wall of water surging forward.

She also saw Jupiter.

A transparent little hamster.

Through his body, she could see a kaleidoscope of shimmering lights.

“Dad!” Lucy cried joyfully. But her father didn’t respond right away—

The seawater was coming!

Above the arena, projections displayed the chaotic scene, allowing spectators to follow the action by looking up. However, most were too engrossed in the semi-realistic combat unfolding before them.

After setting the arena to “flooded coastline,” Mr. Fox stood on the platform with his hands behind his back, casually swaying his tail.

Lucy was… running for her life?

At seven and a half, she didn’t fully understand what that meant. But she knew if Jupiter was submerged, he might “die.”

“Run, Jupiter!”

The transparent hamster darted in a random direction, fleeing as fast as it could. But a wall of water loomed ahead. Lucy spun in place, panicked, until a white dog bounded over, scooped up Jupiter, and soared into the air.

Lucy was stunned. “Dad… Can dogs fly?”

“Huh?”

The hamster perched atop the flying dog’s head, surveying the scene below. Lucy saw a black cat leap gracefully onto a large bird’s back. She saw an elephant, with many animals scrambling onto its back, only to be thrown off. When the elephant nearly stomped on a small white cat, Lucy let out a startled cry—

The audience around her erupted with cheers and shouts. Some rooted for their “pets,” while others abandoned the immersive view to focus on the overhead projections of the chaotic melee. Sure enough, the elephant crushed the cat—but instead of blood, the cat burst like a bubble, vanishing into the water.

Lucy’s heart pounded wildly in her chest. She drank in every detail, greedily etching the images into her memory. Fortunately, when the water rose to waist level, it stopped. Massive trees sprouted suddenly from the ground, their roots and soil absorbing the flood. The flying dog landed on a tree trunk, and Jupiter peeked out from its perch, cautiously observing.

Lucy noticed many “animals.”

Unlike the white dog, black cat, and massive bird she’d seen earlier, these creatures were… strange. Some were missing limbs, some looked like lumps of clay, and others were bizarre hybrids—a fish walking upright, a cat with tiny wings but no sharp claws. When the trees grew, these animals were pushed higher.

But the cat’s wings couldn’t support its weight. Without claws, it couldn’t climb. The dog, blocky and clumsy, scratched helplessly at the trunk. The fish? It simply flopped to the ground with a wet splat.

Lucy felt a pang of sympathy. At seven and a half, she understood that these animals were probably seen by others the same way she, a blind girl, might be viewed by the world.

—If an adult with logical thinking were here, they would immediately realize: the audience controlling these creatures didn’t fully understand animals. They hadn’t “designed” them well, or their imaginations ran wild, resulting in odd, mismatched forms.

But Lucy didn’t understand that. She only had Jupiter scurry off the kind white dog’s back and head toward its fellow “animals.”

At first, the arena was alive with a cacophony of animal sounds. But after just one wave of water, half the noise had vanished.

The flapping of bird wings, the scuttling of beetles, the barking of dogs… There was even a wolf’s howl. Who was familiar enough with wolves to create one?

However, Damian was certain that victory would be his.

He quickly grasped how to win this “game,” and for Damian, this wasn’t merely a game—it resembled the training he’d endured since childhood. A chaotic brawl where he had to emerge as the last one standing.

His green-furred fox crouched on a tree trunk, peering through the leaves at the group of “weaklings and misfits.” To Damian, they were unimportant—mere obstacles destined for elimination.

What truly held his attention were the ones flying above: a deep blue bird and… a white dog.

The majority of creatures on the battlefield were cats and dogs, reflecting the audience’s familiarity with household pets. Other animals were less common, and flying ones were even rarer. Many participants understood the advantage of taking to the skies, but few comprehended the principles of bird flight. Even those who managed to give their creatures wings mostly created flightless chickens, which had already been wiped out during the earlier flood.

The bird’s ability to fly indicated that its owner was an expert on birds and aviation. But the dog—

Why could a dog fly?

The dark-skinned boy furrowed his brow, and his green fox glared coldly at the silly white dog in the sky.

Not far from their seating area, Clark Kent, AKA Superman, patted his son Jon Kent on the head. “Nice work.”

Jon’s slime had mimicked their family’s Kryptonian dog, Krypto.

As a Kryptonian canine, Krypto could naturally fly, complete with a red cape identical to Superman’s.

Back in the arena, the green fox suddenly leapt, dodging a massive brown python lunging from behind. With a swift kick of its hind legs, the fox toppled a giant red hamster, hooking onto another branch and steadying itself.

A black cat appeared behind the fox, stretching lazily before yawning and approaching, rubbing its head against the fox’s ear while letting out an inexplicable series of “meows.”

This cat… seemed a little too much like a real cat?

Damian was momentarily distracted, just for a fraction of a second—but a fraction was all it took.

As the black cat rubbed up against the fox, it flicked its tail and forcefully kicked the fox off the branch.