GingaPride! Challenge Accepted

The cocky Gingaman answered the Dwarven King’s challenge without hesitation, laughing at the thought of defeat. Their confidence was unshakable, their pride boundless. They were heroes, after all—invincible champions. But the arena was no battlefield. It was a trap, designed to exploit their arrogance. The games began, and one by one, they stumbled—tricks, enchantments, and deceit turning their strengths into weaknesses. Each defeat chipped away at their certainty, but by then, it was too late.

Note that this the prequel to the harrowing Gingaman urinal story!

Special thanks to my loyal and royal patron friends:

Nicholas Athallah

Jakob Feurhuber

泽凯 张

vladimirpootis

Tribe

A

Bethany

kasa41

Violet Fentenstine

Tuck Lee

Matthew Thom

fumitsu

kasa41

俊介 星野

にとり 河城

Russell shuey

Bayu Pramana

clanna

park jong

Dominic Kohtz

George Hellerman

Flutterheart10480

brkfstinamerica

darkrai1986

시우 성

Nathaniel Grayson

's 쭌

John Barten

Eddie Hauck

Ken K

Ty smith

Robert Terwillger

snb

Daniel K

Mike020578

Muscle up, Gingas!

The Ginga Forest Village was bathed in golden morning light, the beams filtering through the dense, ancient trees. Birds chirped overhead, water flowed peacefully through the nearby stream, and warriors trained with dedication.

In the middle of it all, the Gingaman gathered in their clearing, the five heroes carrying out their morning routines with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Ryouma (Ginga Red) delivered rapid, forceful punches into a thick training post, his knuckles leaving faint dents in the wood. Sweat dripped from his brow, but he didn’t pause.

Hayate (Ginga Green) stood atop a smooth boulder, moving through a slow, controlled sword kata. His blade cut through the air with precise grace, each motion flowing into the next like water.

Not far away, Gouki (Ginga Blue) grunted as he lifted a massive fallen tree trunk, veins bulging as he hoisted it over his broad shoulders. "One… more… lift!" he growled.

Saya (Ginga Pink) leaned against a tree with her arms crossed, smirking. "I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned. Do you guys even know how to relax?"

Hikaru (Ginga Yellow) was perched on a low branch, lazily tossing a ripe fruit in the air. "I keep telling them, Saya. But nooo, gotta train every second of every day, just in case another monster comes out of nowhere."

"Staying prepared is never a bad thing," Ryouma said between strikes.

Hikaru smirked. "Yeah, yeah, but if you punch that post any harder, you’ll be the reason we need new trees around here."

Ryouma ignored him, stepping back and exhaling sharply.

Saya stretched, stepping forward. "If this is what the morning looks like, I can’t wait for the afternoon. Maybe we’ll wrestle boulders, or fight the wind itself."

Gouki chuckled. "Not a bad idea."

Hayate shook his head. "You two can joke all you want. Discipline is what makes a warrior."

Saya waved a hand dismissively. "And humor is what keeps us sane."

Before Hikaru could respond, the wind shifted.

A low hum rippled through the clearing, followed by a faint crackling sound, like fire catching dry wood. The air thickened, the sun momentarily dimming as if the world itself hesitated.

Then, the scroll appeared.

A large, blackened parchment materialized in the air before them, its edges charred and curling as if it had been pulled from deep underground. It hovered briefly, before lowering itself onto a stone pedestal in the center of the clearing.

The Gingaman tensed, eyes locked on the ominous message before them.

Gouki narrowed his eyes. "That’s… not normal, right?"

Saya tilted her head. "Unless trees suddenly started spitting out mail, no."

The scroll unfurled on its own, and before anyone could react, a deep, resonant voice filled the clearing.

"Warriors of the surface world…"

The voice rumbled like thunder, yet there was no one around to speak it. The ground beneath them hummed faintly, as if acknowledging the power in its words.

"By the sacred pact, we call upon you."

Hikaru blinked. "The what?"

"Since the dawn of time, the underworld and surface world have existed in uneasy harmony. Conflict has been avoided, war has been prevented, and balance has been upheld—because of the pact. A sacred competition, held once in an age, determines the strength of the surface warriors, ensuring peace between our realms."

Saya glanced at Hayate. "Have you heard of this before?"

Hayate frowned. "No… but if it’s a ritual, it might predate even our records."

The scroll pulsed faintly, continuing.

"You have been chosen as this era’s representatives. You shall descend into our halls, where the trials of might, endurance, and will await you. Should you succeed, your names shall be sung through the ages. You shall be revered across our kingdom, and the pact shall stand unbroken."

Ryouma nodded firmly. "So it’s a test of strength. That’s straightforward enough."

"Should you fail…"

The air shifted, a faint tremor running beneath their feet.

"You shall remain within our halls, woven into the heart of our realm, your names spoken for eternity. Such is the way of warriors. Such is the cost of honor."

A moment of silence followed as the scroll’s final words settled.

Then, Hikaru scoffed. "That was a lot of fancy talk just to say, ‘Come fight us in a tournament.’"

Saya smirked. "‘Woven into the heart of our realm’? That’s dramatic even by warrior standards."

Hayate exhaled. "It sounds like they mean we’d be honored if we lose. Probably some ancient dwarven tradition."

Gouki frowned. "But why haven’t we heard of this before?"

Ryouma crossed his arms. "Maybe it’s just been so long since the last one that no one alive remembers it."

Saya chuckled, nudging Hikaru. "Or maybe the last warriors were so strong they didn’t need to talk about it. Just fought and won."

Hikaru grinned. "I like that version. Sounds like us."

The scroll pulsed one last time, its energy fading slowly.

"Refuse, and the pact shall be severed. Accept, and you step into legend."

The Gingaman exchanged glances.

Ryouma exhaled. "I don’t see a reason to refuse."

Hayate tapped his fingers against his arm. "We should at least consider—"

Saya clapped her hands together. "I’m already picturing it. Us, standing victorious, dwarves staring in awe—maybe even giving us some golden trophies. Maybe a feast!"

Hikaru laughed. "You had me at feast."

Gouki cracked his knuckles. "They’ll regret calling us down there."

Hayate hesitated, but the others were already set.

Ryouma stepped forward, placing his hand on the scroll. "We accept."

The moment he spoke, the scroll ignited—not in flames, but in golden light, its ashes swirling upward like fading embers.

A low vibration ran through the earth beneath them. It was subtle, but present.

Hikaru rolled his shoulders. "Well, that’s settled. How long do you think this is gonna take? A day? Two?"

Saya nudged Ryouma. "Maybe we should go easy on them. Wouldn’t want to embarrass them in their own kingdom."

Gouki smirked. "It’s too late for that. They invited us."

Hayate still felt something was off, but he dismissed it.

The Dwarven King’s game had already begun.

And the Gingaman had walked into it willingly.

***

The journey to the Dwarven Kingdom began at the Massive Tree Entrance, a colossal, ancient oak that had stood at the farthest edge of the Ginga Forest for as long as any of them could remember. Its roots curled like the limbs of a slumbering beast, twisting and burrowing deep into the earth. The bark was smooth yet unnaturally dark, and the air around it carried an eerie, weighty stillness.

The Gingaman approached cautiously, their boots crunching over damp earth and moss as they neared the imposing structure. A thin mist lingered around the base of the tree, shifting unnaturally as they moved closer.

Saya (Ginga Pink) clicked her tongue, tilting her head at the carvings that adorned the bark—elaborate patterns of interwoven spirals, oddly similar to the scroll’s designs. "This thing’s been here forever, and I’ve never noticed the markings before," she muttered.

Hayate (Ginga Green) ran a hand over the surface. "Neither have I." He narrowed his eyes. "They almost look… newer than the tree itself."

Hikaru (Ginga Yellow) smirked, resting his hands behind his head. "You two are overthinking it. It’s just a big fancy door. Probably hasn’t been used in ages."

Gouki (Ginga Blue) let out a deep breath. "It feels... unnatural." His fists clenched at his sides. "Like the air’s heavier the closer we get."

The air shifted again, and before anyone could speak, the ground trembled. A deep, resonating hum rippled through the tree, like a great beast exhaling from the depths of the underworld. The spirals carved into the bark began to glow faintly, a molten gold light tracing along the grooves.

The tree groaned as if alive, and then—

A massive stone door slid open, revealing a dark passageway within the trunk.

The Gingaman tensed as a group of figures emerged from the shadows.

From within the gaping entrance, three dwarven figures stepped forward. They were clad in heavy, dark armor, their thick beards braided with iron rings. Their eyes, small but glinting like polished gems, studied the heroes with unreadable expressions.

The one in the center—a broad, barrel-chested dwarf with a beard like blackened steel—spoke first, his tone rough like grinding stone.

"So," he rumbled, "the warriors of the surface have finally arrived."

The Gingaman straightened instinctively, their natural pride responding to the weight of the dwarf’s words.

Ryouma (Ginga Red) stepped forward. "We come in the name of peace. We accept your trials."

The dwarf’s thick lips curled into a grin. "Ah, you accept so easily. I wonder, do you even know what you have accepted?"

A brief silence.

Saya folded her arms. "A test of strength, endurance, and will, right? Nothing new for us."

The other dwarves chuckled, low and knowing.

"That is what the scroll told you, yes," the lead dwarf murmured. "But even a warrior must consider what they wager before stepping onto a battlefield."

Hayate’s eyes flickered with a moment of hesitation. "Is there something we should know?"

The lead dwarf spread his arms wide, gesturing toward the tunnel behind them. "You shall see. But tell me, warriors of the surface…" His grin widened, flashing slightly yellowed teeth, "Do you regret stepping forward?"

The Gingaman bristled.

Hikaru scoffed. "No chance."

Gouki cracked his knuckles. "We don’t regret accepting a challenge."

Ryouma nodded firmly. "We’ll prove ourselves. That’s what warriors do."

The dwarf’s grin remained as he turned, gesturing toward the darkened passage. "Then enter. The halls of the underworld welcome you."

The moment the Gingaman stepped inside, the stone doors slid shut behind them, sealing them in with an ominous, echoing boom.

The underground realm stretched before them—a vast, stone-hewn city, carved from black rock and veined with glowing golden crystal. The cavern ceiling loomed impossibly high, glowing formations dotting the surface like an eerie, false sky.

Great towers and fortresses rose from the depths, their architecture strange and imposing. The buildings bore detailed carvings, some resembling warriors locked in battle, others of figures kneeling in stillness, faces twisted in expressions the Gingaman couldn’t quite decipher.

Saya shuddered slightly. "Is it just me, or do those carvings look… weirdly lifelike?"

Hikaru glanced at the nearest wall. "Eh, maybe dwarves just like their statues looking dramatic."

The streets were crowded with dwarves, their heavy boots echoing against the stone. The underworld warriors regarded the Gingaman with silent amusement, some muttering amongst themselves, others smirking.

Ryouma noticed it first—the way the dwarves looked at them.

Not with hostility.

Not even with curiosity.

But with certainty.

Like they had already won.

The Gingaman were led toward the grand coliseum, a massive structure carved into the city's heart. Blackened stone pillars lined the entrance, statues of warriors locked in eerie battle poses standing at attention on either side.

They walked across the arena floor, the cheers of thousands of dwarves rumbling like a living beast around them. The energy in the air was suffocating—not from excitement, but from something heavier.

At the far end of the arena, a massive throne loomed, carved from obsidian and gold. Atop it sat the Dwarven King himself.

His golden eyes gleamed beneath his thick brow, his massive hands resting lazily on the arms of the throne. He barely moved as he regarded them, only the slow, rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the stone betraying any amusement.

"So," he rumbled, his voice thick with authority, "these are the surface warriors?"

The Gingaman stood their ground, but they could feel the weight of his gaze.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "You look… breakable."

Saya scoffed. "If you’re trying to intimidate us, you’ll have to do better than that."

The King’s lips curled slightly, something like amusement flickering in his eyes. "No need for words yet. We shall see soon enough."

He lifted a massive goblet, taking a slow, deliberate sip before setting it back down.

"The trials begin at sunrise," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Enjoy your night. Tomorrow, you’ll wish it had lasted longer."

A strange weight settled over the Gingaman.

Something about his words—his tone—felt off.

But none of them backed down.

Not yet.

***

Gouki stood at the mountain's base, its jagged peaks towering above him like a vast, unforgiving fortress. His task, as explained by the dwarven overseers, was deceptively simple: hold back five key avalanche points along the mountain slope and prevent the collapse of a nearby dwarven village. The stakes were supposedly high—if the village was buried, countless lives would be lost. This challenge, the dwarves claimed, was a test of raw strength and endurance, a perfect fit for someone like him.

"Protecting others is what I do," Gouki reminded himself, clenching his fists. "I can't fail."

A loud crack echoed across the mountainside as the first boulders began to shift. He charged forward, planting his feet firmly in the rock as he braced against a massive stone slab sliding toward the village. The weight was enormous, far more than any natural formation should be, but Gouki held it steady with a grunt. His muscles strained, veins bulging as he forced the boulder back into position.

"First one… done," he muttered under his breath. He exhaled deeply, the cold mountain air biting at his lungs.

But just as he turned to move to the next point, something strange happened. The boulder, which had seemed stable moments before, suddenly grew heavier, shifting forward again as though some unseen force had amplified its weight. Gouki's eyes widened in shock as he scrambled to push it back.

"What's going on? I already stabilized it!"

The ground beneath him trembled violently. He looked up to see the second avalanche point beginning to collapse. Giant rocks tumbled toward him at an alarming speed. Without any time to think, he threw himself toward the next point, grabbing hold of a massive pillar of rock. The same unnatural weight returned as soon as he touched it, nearly crushing him where he stood.

"This… this isn’t normal," he gasped, his arms shaking. The boulders were enchanted—there was no other explanation. The mountain itself was fighting against him.

Above him, several dwarven overseers observed from a safe ridge. They exchanged smirks and chuckled among themselves.

"Look at him! Thought he could handle a mountain’s wrath, didn’t he?"

"Aye, let’s see how long that surface-dweller lasts. Keep those enchantments strong. We’ll crush his spirit soon enough."

The dwarves manipulated hidden mechanisms embedded within the mountain, activating spells that increased the weight of the boulders Gouki was holding. The challenge was never meant to be fair. It was designed to humiliate and break him.

Gouki’s realization came too late. His enhanced strength had given him confidence at the start, but now he knew the truth. He had been set up to fail.

"Damn it… I need to warn the others… This whole thing is a trap!" He strained to maintain his hold on the collapsing avalanche point. Rocks continued to rain down around him, and every movement felt heavier than the last. His legs trembled as he tried to push the massive pillar back into place.

"No… no… I can’t lose here…!"

But the curse intensified. The mountain’s magic surged through his body, forcing his muscles to lock in place. It was as if the mountain itself had become a living entity, determined to crush him under its weight. He stumbled, his knees buckling as he tried to regain control. His mind raced with desperation.

"Stay focused… one more step… just one more…"

His vision blurred as the crushing weight multiplied. His once-powerful frame, capable of easily lifting immense boulders, now felt weak and brittle. Each step became agonizingly slow. He could feel the ground sinking beneath his feet, pulling him deeper into the collapsing terrain.

The voices of the dwarves echoed in his mind, mocking him.
"You’re just a beast of burden, aren't you?"
"Strong enough to lift rocks, but not strong enough to survive the mountain!"

"No… I won’t… let them…" He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding as he summoned every ounce of strength left in his body. But the weight grew heavier still. His arms buckled under the strain, his back arching unnaturally as he fought to stay upright.

Finally, his body gave out.

With a deafening crash, the boulders tumbled forward, sending Gouki sprawling to the ground. His vision dimmed as he lay there, gasping for breath. Rocks piled around him, pinning his limbs. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably, no longer able to respond to his commands.

The dwarves descended from the ridge, surrounding him with sneers and laughter.

"Well, well! Looks like the mighty protector couldn’t handle a few rocks!"

"Maybe we should carve a statue of him like this—flat on his back, crushed under his own failure!"

They kicked dust and loose stones onto him as he lay immobilized. Gouki tried to speak, to warn them of the enchantments, but his throat tightened as a new sensation overtook him. The curse activated fully now, spreading through his body like molten lead.

His muscles swelled grotesquely, bloating under invisible pressure. He tried to move, but each attempt sent waves of pain through his limbs. His arms, once capable of lifting entire trees, now trembled under their own weight. His legs felt as if they were anchored to the ground by chains made of stone.

"No… what’s… going on?" he gasped.

"Ah, don’t worry," one dwarf said mockingly. "You’ve got yourself a curse of weight, surface-dweller. You’ll be crawling on your belly before long!"

They forced him to stand, but his knees buckled immediately. His body, swollen and stiff, refused to cooperate. He collapsed again, face-first into the dirt.

"See? Just like a beast of burden!"

Gouki groaned as the dwarves dragged him back down the mountain. His mind was fogged with pain and exhaustion, and the realization that he couldn’t even lift himself filled him with despair.

"I… failed… the others… they…"

He couldn’t finish the thought. His world blurred into a haze of pain, weight, and humiliation as the dwarves hauled him toward the next stage of his punishment.

The dwarves paraded him through their camp like a trophy, laughing as he struggled to crawl forward. His curse made every movement torturous, and he could barely lift his head to meet their gazes. They jeered and spat at him, reinforcing his humiliation.

"This one thought he was a guardian of strength! Now he can’t even stand upright!"

"Maybe we should put a yoke on him and have him pull wagons for us!"

The words burned in Gouki’s ears, but he could do nothing to refute them. His body had betrayed him. He lay there, broken and defeated, as the dwarves celebrated their victory. 

***

The jagged cliffs of the dwarven lands were bathed in a red, ominous glow as Hayate prepared for his trial. He glanced up at the towering peaks, feeling a deep unease he couldn’t shake. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the echoes of stone crumbling—Gouki’s trial, no doubt. He expected Gouki to succeed; after all, Gouki was the strongest among them, capable of withstanding enormous weight and pressure. Yet something about the faint, far-off crashes made Hayate’s stomach twist.

The overseers approached him with grins on their faces. One of them, Overseer Grogg, gave Hayate a heavy slap on the back. "Hope you’re faster than the wind itself, surface-dweller. This trial’s simple. Just outrun the mountain. All you have to do is reach the summit ridge before the landslide catches you. Should be a walk in the park for a ranger like you, aye?"

Hayate narrowed his eyes. "Landslide? What’s causing it?"

"Oh, just natural forces," Grogg said with a smirk that betrayed his lie. "Nothing you can’t handle."

Natural? Hayate wasn’t convinced, but he knew arguing would get him nowhere. He positioned himself at the starting line, his senses heightened. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself in the moment.

“Focus. Trust your instincts. You’re fast enough.”

The signal rang—a loud horn—and Hayate took off like an arrow, his body blurring as he sprinted up the narrow mountain path. His feet moved with precision, dodging loose rocks and narrow ledges. The cold wind bit at his skin, but he ignored it. His mind was sharp, his path clear.

Then, the ground beneath him shifted violently.

The rumble of collapsing stone thundered behind him, and Hayate glanced back to see an entire section of the mountain collapsing, releasing an avalanche of boulders and debris that tore through the trail. It wasn’t natural—he could tell immediately. The landslide moved with unnatural speed, almost as if it were alive, adjusting its course to match his.

"No… this isn't right!" he gasped. His heart raced as the avalanche gained on him faster than it should have. He surged forward, increasing his speed, leaping over broken gaps in the trail. His enhanced agility kept him moving, but every step seemed to trigger more chaos.

The dwarves watched from a hidden ridge, manipulating mechanisms embedded in the mountain. Runestones along the path generated shifting tremors and collapsing terrain ahead of him.

"He’s quick, I’ll give him that," one dwarf muttered. "But he won’t keep up for long. Increase the pressure plates on the next stretch."

Hayate’s instincts screamed at him as the ground erupted ahead. A hidden catapult trap launched a massive boulder across his path. He dove to the side, narrowly avoiding it, but the maneuver cost him precious momentum. The landslide roared closer.

"I can’t keep slowing down!" he muttered. His breathing became ragged as the terrain warped around him. The rocks weren’t just falling randomly—they were targeting him. He glanced at the summit ridge far above, the distant finish line. His thoughts raced.

"This is a trap... just like Gouki’s trial. They’re manipulating everything…"

For a brief moment, doubt pierced his mind. He had seen how confident Gouki had been earlier. If Gouki had struggled—if Gouki had failed—then what chance did he have?

Hayate shook his head fiercely. "No. I’m not weak. I can do this!"

But his body began to falter. His legs, normally capable of pushing through any terrain, felt sluggish. His balance shifted erratically as hidden tremors rippled through the mountain. The path ahead collapsed entirely, forcing him to jump across a chasm. He barely made the leap, his foot slipping on the edge. He grabbed onto a rocky outcrop, his fingers digging in desperately.

The avalanche roared just behind him. Dust and stones showered his back, making it harder to breathe.

"Get up... move!"

He pulled himself to his feet and continued running, but his movements became less fluid, more erratic. The curse hidden within the trial was taking hold.

The first signs of the curse of endless disorientation struck him as he rounded a corner. His vision flickered, and the trail ahead seemed to split into multiple paths, each one twisting in a different direction. He blinked, trying to focus, but the distortion didn’t stop.

"What... is this?" His footsteps faltered as the world around him spun. The horizon tilted violently, and he stumbled forward, nearly crashing into a boulder.

"You’re losing it, ranger!" one of the dwarves jeered from above. "You’re fast, but your head’s all over the place now, eh?"

Hayate clutched his head, trying to steady himself. His sense of balance was completely off. The ground shifted under him as if he were standing on a tilting platform. His feet felt disconnected from the earth, and every step became a gamble.

"Stay focused… stay focused…!"

The curse intensified. The once-clear trail became a kaleidoscope of spinning shapes and false paths. He tried to push forward, but his legs gave out as his mind reeled. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

The landslide reached him, burying his lower body in debris. He coughed, struggling to free himself, but the disorientation made it impossible to tell which direction was up. Rocks pressed against his torso, pinning him in place as dust filled his lungs.

"No... not like this... I… I have to warn the others…"

But it was too late. The dwarves descended from their vantage point, laughing as they surrounded him.

"Fast as lightning, eh? Looks like you’ve lost your way!"

"Can’t even stand up straight anymore! Pathetic!"

Hayate groaned as they yanked him out of the rubble. His body trembled uncontrollably, his senses still spinning. The curse had fully infected his mind, leaving him unable to tell where he was. He stumbled and fell again, his hands clawing at empty air.

"Stop… stop moving the ground…" he whispered, his tone weak and hoarse.

"We’re not moving anything, fool! That’s all you now!"

They dragged him back down the mountain as he muttered incoherently, unable to fight back. His disoriented mind left him vulnerable and helpless. The once-agile warrior was now reduced to a staggering wreck, his body betraying him with every step.

As they paraded him through the village, the dwarves continued their mockery.

"How do you like the curse of lost footing? You’ll never find your way again!"

Hayate’s vision bleared as the spinning world consumed him. Deep down, he knew he had failed hard.