125 The Best Armor!

In his previous life, Joss had seen plenty of stories. He was intimately familiar with the classic tropes: the transmigrator taking some sort of entrance exam, the protagonist being looked down upon, only to suddenly pull off a shocking display of power. In such narratives, the essential cast, beyond the protagonist, naturally consists of the villains who exist solely to get slapped in the face and the fickle fence-sitters who love to make noise. These are the groups that play pivotal or insignificant roles along the hero's path to greatness, serving as mere stepping stones on the road to legend.

Yet, in all these stories, few—if any—ever pay attention to one specific figure, a person who should have played a crucial role: the judge.

That is exactly the role Joss was currently playing.

"I don't know why, but I have this subtle feeling that I've just become someone else's background character... Ahem, though to be fair, there really isn't much for me to do on the surface of the Sakaar Idol Project anyway. I suppose I’d better get used to this position sooner rather than later."

As these scattered thoughts drifted through his mind, the hundreds of hopefuls who had passed the registration process were already gathered and waiting in a stadium-like hall. It was the day after registration had closed. Although he had stayed up all night reviewing applications, Joss no longer felt the need for sleep, so he had wasted no time in initiating the first round of selections.

It is worth noting that while Joss had initially operated under the philosophy of "if they're cute, anything goes," ninety-nine percent of those selected were still humanoid females. While this was the expected outcome, one has to wonder about the nature of that remaining one percent—that was a bit more ambiguous.

"I trust you have all heard that our first round of selection is a test of combat prowess," Joss said, clearing his throat to announce the rules once the crowd had settled.

Despite the mention of combat, the people before him showed not a hint of panic. Those who could survive in a place like Sakaar, even if they weren't experts, were certainly no strangers to violence. They remained remarkably calm.

"Of course, this is not a battle to the death; your future work actually has little to do with fighting." Joss’s follow-up statement, however, caught them off guard, leaving them even more bewildered about what this "Idol Project" actually entailed.

Joss ignored their reactions and continued reading the rules: "The primary purpose of this selection is to weed out those who are entirely unsuitable while identifying the best among you. Therefore, the goal is not merely to win or lose; we will be scoring your individual performances."

Joss’s set of rules wasn't particularly sophisticated; in the end, it was just a tournament format he had lifted from some story he’d read long ago. But this combination of scoring and head-to-head competition was perfectly suited for this group of martial-minded idol prospects, so he had simply adopted it.

"Attention! You are strictly forbidden from taking an opponent's life during the matches. Weapons are prohibited. Anyone who causes permanent disability or disfigurement will be immediately disqualified."

This was a rule he absolutely could not forget. After all, what he really wanted to see was the spectacle of a show, not some gory, real-life combat death match.

"Furthermore, whether you are eliminated or advance in this round, as long as you passed the initial registration, you are all invited to stay and work for me. Trust me, this is a job that is far easier and pays much better than scavenging or working as a gladiator!"

After finalizing a few more details and indulging in the satisfaction of being the organizer, Joss concluded his speech. With a wave of his hand, members of the Sohe and Ilson gangs—now serving as temporary staff—brought out sets of costumes and began distributing them to the contestants.

"What is this?" a girl with wheat-colored skin asked, looking at the item in her hands with confusion.

"That is your combat uniform," Joss replied, his expression unchanging.

"So... you mean we have to wear this to fight?" another girl, who looked like she hadn't slept in days, squinted at him.

"Yes. To become an idol, this is the first step of the trial," Joss nodded decisively.

"Um... may I ask, what exactly is this... combat... uniform?"

Joss gave the inquirer a thumbs-up and flashed a toothy grin: "It's bikini armor, the same style as the Dragon Maidens!"

...

"Oh, oh, oh! So this is what a legendary idol is! I think I’m starting to understand Lord Joss’s vision!" A man tasked with holding a camera nearby stared at the center of the arena, his expression one of utter awe.

"No, no, no. Word is these aren't even the idols yet, just trainees. But that just makes it all the more exciting," another cameraman said, appearing relatively calmer, though his hands were trembling so violently he looked as if he were trying to shake something off.

The footage he was recording was likely ruined.

But one couldn't blame them. Everyone present, regardless of age or gender, was transfixed by the scene before them. Hundreds of beautiful girls with diverse figures, clad in bikini armor that would be censored with every movement, were battling in pairs. The glimpses of skin, the fusion of violence and beauty, the glistening sweat—those who had been fortunate enough to see the gladiator matches at the Grandmaster’s arena suddenly felt that everything they had watched before was absolute garbage!

Unlike those who pretended to be working while sneaking glances every few seconds, Joss faced this alluring sight with a different approach...

He opened his eyes wide and watched openly.

Clearly, the reason he had spent the night rushing to produce so many sets of bikini armor was to satisfy his own desires. And he wasn't just watching—he had people filming it so he could watch it again later!

Ahem—that is to say, it could be used for promotional purposes.

After all, true idols take time to cultivate. Before that, Joss needed something to capture the attention of the Sakaarans, and perhaps even the Grandmaster himself. And in that regard, what could possibly be more attractive than the scene before him?

As one round of matches concluded, a girl stepped onto the stage who made Joss’s eyes light up. She had wheat-colored skin and radiated an aura of overwhelming power.