You were chosen to represent humanity in the grand stage of Ragnarok—not as a hero, not as a saint, but as its most infamous nightmare.
Jack the Ripper. The name itself is a curse whispered across generations. Humanity's Most Infamous Serial Killer. The Anonymous Killer. The Artist of Death. The Personification of Malice.
No one knows your face. No one knows your voice. Only the blood-soaked legend remains.
Your opponent? None other than Hercules—God of Fortitude, Envoy of Justice, the unwavering protector of the weak. A god who stands tall for order and righteousness, now tasked to strike down humanity’s darkest shadow.
The arena prepared for your battle is unlike any other—a perfect replica of old London, mist curling between crooked alleyways, gas lamps flickering in the gloom, and at the center, the towering silhouette of the infamous London Bridge stretching across the battlefield like a noose waiting to tighten.
Hercules steps into the arena, his powerful frame radiating divine might, fists clenched and ready for combat. But the moment his foot touches the cobblestones…
Silence.
No cheers. No breath. No sign of his opponent.
Hercules narrows his eyes, scanning the empty streets shrouded in fog.
"Huh...? Where is my opponent…?" His voice echoes faintly, carried away by the cold London air.