393 Mongrel

Sunny was standing on the floor of a vast oval arena. It was covered by sand, which had long ago turned red from all the blood spilled between these ancient walls. The merciless sun burned in the incandescent sky, and the smell of sweat, blood, and death assaulted his nostrils.

'How... realistic.'

A little disturbed, Sunny looked around and saw tall amphitheater stands rising high above the blood-soaked arena. Those were the spectator seats. A crowd was cheering from them, their voices full of macabre fascination, cruelty, and glee. Both men and women were dressed in archaic robes that left their arms and shoulders bare. With bloodthirsty smiles contorting their features, they looked like a horde of lustful demons.

Well… not all of them. Here and there, a strangely clothed person could be seen, observing the fights with a less barbaric expression. The people in archaic clothes were illusions, while the rest were actual observers.

One didn't have to be connected to the Dreamscape to spectate the duels, but some quirky fans preferred to be there in person to achieve the feeling of maximum immersion.

'Lunatics. Those damn simulation pods are too costly to use them for spectating…'

Even though Sunny wasn't poor anymore, seeing such extravagance still pained him. Shaking his head, he finally turned his attention to the arena itself.

Obviously, this illusory environment wasn't very original, but on the other hand, it was a classic. More advanced dreams had vastly different decorations, ranging from realistic to completely fantastical, but for this low-level one, the company running Dreamscape chose a pretty basic narrative.

It was an ancient coliseum — a place where slaves had once fought to entertain their masters, often to the death.

Sunny didn't like it one bit.

The Colosseum was based on a historical structure, but was much larger. Hundreds upon hundreds of warriors roamed the sand of the battle arena, some engaged in fights, some searching for an opponent.

Out here in the Colosseum, most of the participants were Awakened of high enough skill to be considered the elite among the amateurs, but not skillful enough to enter the professional leagues. Just what Sunny was looking for... maybe. Overall, while many of the duelists in the Dreamscape were talented fighters, at the end of the day, there were very few true masters among them.

Real elites spilled blood in the Dream Realm, not in an illusion that had been conjured for the purpose of entertainment. So the level of competency of these people remained to be seen.

Commanding the Soul Serpent to assume the form of the fearsome odachi, Sunny put the blade of the great sword on his shoulder and waited to be challenged. Due to his menacing black armor and fearsome mask, however, people seemed to be reluctant to approach.

At least for a while.

Soon, a young swordsman in a striking bloodred armor approached, a long and graceful espadon resting on his shoulder. With a smile, he looked at Sunny and said:

"Haven't seen you around before… Mongrel? Are you new to the Coliseum?"

Sunny tilted his head and studied the letters that appeared around the swordsman.

"Paradise in Red"

"Victories: 157"

"Defeats: 103"

'Good enough.'

Lowering the odachi, he answered in an even tone:

"...I was born in the Coliseum."

The swordsman smiled, then stepped forward.

"Let me welcome you back, then."

The voice of the Dreamscape immediately spoke, announcing the start of the fight:

"Paradise in Red has challenged Mongrel!"

They clashed on the bloodied sand, moving with enough speed to cause the wind to howl through their armor.

Sunny had left one of his shadows on the ground, and wrapped another one around the Autumn Leaf, where it could do him no good — he didn't want to be too strong, so that his opponents were not completely outmatched and could properly showcase their styles.

As for himself, he had completely abandoned both the flowing style that Nephis had taught him and the grounded technique that he had learned from Saint, relying only on his ability to shadow the enemy's movements.

Paradise in Red was not a master of swordsmanship, but his skill level was not bad. Still, the young man wasn't a match for Sunny, even though he had to forego his practiced techniques and wasn't used to wielding the great blade of the odachi.

The material form of the Shadow Serpent was truly formidable, but due to its size and nature, using it required a lot of adjustment. It was potentially far more devastating than any shorter blade could ever hope to be, but at the same time, demanded much more skill and strategy to be wielded efficiently. Any strike it delivered was potentially deadly, but so was every mistake made in the process.

Sunny prolonged the fight for as long as he could, learning as much as possible from how his opponent moved and wielded the sword. In the end, however, the strain of the duel turned out to be too much for the other fighter — he wasn't very strategic at how he spent his soul essence, so after five minutes or so, his speed and strength decreased sharply.

Sunny sighed and ended the duel with one precise slash of the Soul Serpent.

The great sword flashed across the enemy's neck, sending his head flying into the air.

The beheaded corpse fell to the ground in a rain of blood, then disappeared in a stream of sparks.

The voice of the Dreamscape thundered from above:

"Mongrel has won!"

'Too bad…'

Five minutes was not enough to truly learn the essence of a battle style. However, Sunny was certain that he would face another practitioner of this battle art eventually. There were not that many popular styles among the amateurs, after all. A few days or weeks later, he was bound to fight against someone with a similar technique again.

Attracted by his flashy victory, a few more challengers approached. Sunny flourished the Soul Serpent, then stopped it abruptly midair. Drops of blood flew to the sand, leaving the dark blade perfectly clean.

Under the mask, he grinned.

'Ah, so cool. Good thing that I learned this trick from Saint, too…'

***

"Argh! Are you even human?!"

Another Awakened fell to the sand, blood flowing from his mouth.

Sunny took a step forward and slashed down with the Shadow Serpent, easily cutting through the opponent's light armor and splitting his body in half. The great sword he wielded... was truly devastating.

As the corpse disappeared, he cleaned the curved blade of the odachi with a swift flourish and answered with a dejected lie:

"Human? I am not, and have never been, a human."

By that time, a small crowd of Awakened had gathered around to spectate the fights and wait for their turn to challenge him. Hearing his words, one of them laughed:

"If you are not human, then what are you?"

Sunny glanced at him, then shrugged.

"A mongrel."

Internally, though, he was thinking:

'...What the heck?!'

In the past several hours, he had fought twenty-seven people. And out of them, twenty-five — twenty-five! — had been using the same battle style.

It was a practical, but rather simplistic art that relied on straightforward, efficient movements and attacks that were optimal in terms of lethality and energy expenditure, but for the same reason very predictable. In the hands of a master, the style could have been a real menace, but with these talented amateurs, it was useless against anyone with a tiny bit of clarity.

Several of the Aspects the challengers possessed had thrown him for a loop, but in the end, he had defeated them all one after another, gaining a solid grasp of the essence of their style by the twentieth practitioner he fought.

These people were not exactly untalented, but Sunny felt the difference between them and himself sharply. He had to remind himself that, unlike him, they had not spent a whole year fighting for their lives in the hell of the Forgotten Shore.

Most of these young men and women had probably only experienced a handful of real battles in their entire lives: a few in the First Nightmare, and a few on their way to the Gateway. After that, they lived in well-protected Citadels and only ventured outside the walls in large cohorts... if ever.

'Disappointing…'

Although the counter of the [Prince of the Underworld] had grown by twenty-seven victories, Sunny was slightly irritated. This was not what he had hoped for.

Variety, he needed variety. He needed to create a truly versatile library of styles to allow Shadow Dance to be more efficient in the future. The more basic styles he learned, the easier it would be for him to shadow a truly unique technique if he needed to.

...As he was thinking that today was a complete bust, a sudden wave of whispers ran both through the crowd of the Awakened fighters and the human spectators observing them from the stands.

A dozen or so meters behind Sunny, a tall figure suddenly appeared out of thin air.

When people saw the new arrival, their eyes widened.