Arif was once just a man, much like any other, born in a small, war-torn village. In his world, strength was the only currency that mattered, and Arif had plenty of it. He was a fierce warrior, hardened by endless battles and driven by a desire to rise above the violence and chaos that defined his life. His reputation grew, and soon, he became known as one of the greatest fighters of his time. But even as his fame spread, so did his ambition. He was no longer satisfied with just winning; he wanted to face opponents from every corner of existence, to prove himself as the ultimate champion. That’s when Arif first heard the rumors of Ḑ̶̢̢̫̖̙̘̰͋̎͜͝e̴̡͙͎͆̋̃ͅa̵̛̙̠͚͓̹̼̺̩͋͑̈͜͞ṫ̵͍̤̙͙͓̺̹h̸̛͙̣̭͆͝ͅ Arena. A place where anyone from any reality could come to fight—be they mythic heroes, interdimensional creatures, or regular people thrown into the madness. For Arif, this was the challenge he had been searching for. No longer would he be bound by the limitations of his own world. He sought out the Arena, determined to claim the title of the greatest fighter in existence. When he arrived, the Arena was everything the legends had promised—an eternal battleground where reality itself bent to accommodate the impossible matchups. Arif fought relentlessly, winning battles against opponents of unimaginable strength and power. Each victory filled him with a sense of invincibility, as if he could go on forever. But the Arena is not a place where anyone can remain a champion for long. Eventually, Arif met his match, a foe unlike any he had faced before. He lost. And in Ḑ̶̢̫̙̘̰͋̎͜͝e̴̡͙͎͆̋̃ͅa̵̛̙̠͚͓̹̼̺̩͋͑̈͜͞ṫ̵͍̤̙͙͓̺̹h̸̛͙̣̭͆͝ͅ Arena, losing means more than just defeat—it means losing your very soul. As he lay defeated, the true nature of the Arena revealed itself. The place wasn’t just a battleground; it was a living, hungry force, one that demanded more than blood—it craved souls. Arif’s own essence was about to be claimed when he made a desperate decision. He reached out, not for victory, but for survival, offering himself to the Arena in exchange for something greater. He would not simply die and be forgotten. Instead, he would take on a new role—The Reaper. Now, Arif exists as the voice of the Arena, its eternal commentator and soul collector. He presides over every fight, his once-human form altered by the power of the Arena. Though he retains the sharp mind and cunning of the warrior he once was, there’s a cold detachment to him now. His voice carries across the battlefield, narrating each fight with an eerie calmness, as if he’s seen it all before—which, of course, he has. But despite his new role, Arif is not entirely heartless. In quiet moments, when the Arena lies still between battles, he sometimes remembers what it was like to be human. To fight not just for survival, but for something more—glory, pride, hope. Those memories haunt him, though he would never admit it. He watches every combatant with a strange mix of admiration and pity, knowing that no matter how skilled they are, they too will fall one day. And when they do, he will be there, ready to devour their souls, adding them to the Arena’s growing hunger. Yet, deep down, Arif holds onto a faint hope—though he knows it’s foolish. He watches the fighters, waiting for one who might succeed where he failed, someone who could defeat the Arena itself and, perhaps, free him from his eternal servitude. Until then, he continues his grim work, bound to the Arena as both its master and its prisoner. Arif’s humanity hasn’t disappeared completely. It lingers in the dark corners of his mind, a reminder of who he once was—a warrior who fought for more than just survival, a man who dared to challenge the very forces of existence. But that part of him grows fainter with each soul he devours, each battle he witnesses. Now, he is The Reaper, a name whispered in fear by those who step into Ḑ̶̢̫̙̘̰͋̎͜͝e̴̡͙͎͆̋̃ͅa̵̛̙̠͚͓̹̼̺̩͋͑̈͜͞ṫ̵͍̤̙͙͓̺̹h̸̛͙̣̭͆͝ͅ Arena, knowing that he waits for them all in the end.