Sunny's feet made absolutely no sound against the polished wooden floorboards, but the house still somehow felt loud.
Not with people, just with… her. The kitchen kettle was cold, the large leather couch was empty, and the bathroom light was off. Yet, Cielle was still everywhere he looked. Her second blanket was folded over the back of the couch in that exact, impossibly neat way she preferred. Her hair comb was sitting on the edge of the bathroom sink. Her mug was sitting upside down on the drying rack. Down in the heavily armored basement, the state-of-the-art sleeping pod, her pod hummed faintly, a steady, distant heartbeat vibrating through the floorboards.
She wasn't actually here. She was currently deep in the Dream Realm, anchored to the Sanctuary of Noctis, running her solo patrol rotation for at least another few hours.
Sunny had told himself that her being gone for the afternoon meant the house would feel bigger. More peaceful. It was his house, after all. He was supposed to enjoy the solitude.
It didn't feel bigger. It just felt like the building was holding its breath, waiting for her to come back.
He wandered past the kitchen doorway, glancing inside out of habit, and promptly pretended he hadn't.
The brand-new refrigerator stared back at him from the corner.
The old one, or rather, what was left of its mangled carcass…. had been hauled away by a very confused disposal crew yesterday morning. There was still a faint, accusing gouge in the kitchen tiles where his fist had punched straight through the reinforced steel door. Sunny had cleaned up the shattered plastic and ruined vegetables.
He had absolutely not come up with a reasonable explanation for why he had done it.
He had no comments for the fridge incident. He had no comments for the ridiculous bill he had paid to get a new one delivered same-day. And he certainly had no explanation for the things that was his life now.
Sunny stared at the shiny new appliance. He slowly reached out, opened the door, and stared at the neat, brightly lit rows of fresh food and bottled water. He stared at it until his knuckles started to turn white, and then he firmly shut the door again before his hand could twitch.
"Not today," Sunny whispered to the appliance. "You're innocent. It's not your fault."
He still hadn't properly explained the fridge incident to Cielle. The first time she had walked into the kitchen and seen the twisted, destroyed metal carcass dragged into the corner, she hadn't yelled. She had just tilted her head, looked at the fridge, and asked, completely serious:
"Did it attack you?"
Sunny had just stared at her and said yes, which was technically true. It was infinitely easier than trying to explain himself.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. Cielle's pod hummed softly beneath his feet. His shadows were shifting restlessly along the walls, picking up on his agitated mood.
Sunny stood in the hallway for another long moment, then turned and headed for the basement stairs.
If Cielle was going to spend the next few hours throwing herself at terrifying monsters in a nightmare, he might as well go do something equally stupid in a fake one.
***
Dreamscape was a strange concept. It was a place that was neither truly real nor a part of the Dream Realm, but instead existed somewhere in the blurry, profitable space in between. It was created and maintained by a combination of advanced modern technology and the highly specific Aspect Ability of a certain Master—now a Saint. Their power dealt entirely with illusions, and so, that was exactly what Dreamscape was.
A massive, globally shared hallucination.
However, it wasn't an entirely malleable playground. It functioned according to a rigid set of absolute rules, reflecting reality rather than replacing it. As a result, anyone entering it was bound by the exact same physical laws that existed in the waking world.
And since one of those undeniable laws was the Nightmare Spell, a person's Aspect, Abilities, Memories, and Echoes functioned in the illusion exactly as they did outside of it. There was just one massive, incredibly appealing difference: you couldn't actually be hurt, wounded, or killed in Dreamscape. Neither Memories nor Echoes could be permanently destroyed.
It meant that Awakened could finally battle each other with absolute, unhinged lethality without having to risk their lives, keeping the destructive force of their divine abilities completely out of the real world.
At the dawn of its creation, Dreamscape was mostly used by the Legacy Clans and the government to train their elite Awakened strike forces. But it was quickly deemed only marginally useful. While it facilitated safe duels between humans, the simulation's attempt at recreating Nightmare Creatures was laughable. The illusory monsters lacked the terrifying, unpredictable will and alien malice of actual abominations.
So, Dreamscape failed as a serious military training tool. But it had, entirely by accident, found incredible success as a bloodsport.
The duels in Dreamscape became massively popular. That popularity exploded into an absolute cultural phenomenon once the company behind it realized they could integrate a broadcast function into the pods, making these superhuman, highly destructive duels available to a much broader audience—the millions of mundane humans stuck in the waking world.
Today, Dreamscape was a multi-billion credit industry. It had amateur circuits, professional leagues, famous celebrities with corporate sponsorships, and rabid fan clubs.
Sunny, however, didn't care about the fame, the glory, or the money that becoming a renowned Dreamscape champion could bring him. (Well, he cared a little about the money, but he was currently rich, so he could afford to be snobby about it). No matter how lucrative the leagues were, Dreamscape was just a toy.
But he was extremely interested in that toy for three very specific reasons.
First: Anonymity. Dreamscape offered an incredibly robust masking system. It was nearly impossible to track a person entering the illusion if they didn't wish to be tracked. For a paranoid, highly secretive scout with a Divine Aspect, that was a massive selling point.
Second: Shadow Dance. Sunny needed to fight. He needed to throw himself against a massive variety of opponents, people wielding different weapons, using diverse, unpredictable styles. He needed to bleed, parry, and mirror thousands of techniques to sharpen his battle art and feed his Soul Serpent. Dreamscape was an infinite, risk-free library of human combat styles just waiting to be stolen.
Third: A completely accidental discovery.
Back when he had first arrived on the Chained Isles, Sunny had secretly tested the Mantle of the Underworld in battles against several Nightmare Creatures. The onyx armor was remarkable, but during one fight, a badly wounded creature had managed to escape from him right as the Crushing approached.
That was when Sunny discovered a massive loophole in how the [Prince of the Underworld] enchantment worked.
The description said the armor grew stronger according to the number of opponents its wielder defeated. It did not specify that they had to die. The enchantment didn't care if the enemy lived to see another day, so long as Sunny had definitively won the exchange. After the creature escaped, his counter had still ticked up from [1215/6000] to [1216/6000].
He had tested it again, bringing an abomination right to the edge of death and then simply walking away. The counter went to .
So, Sunny fully intended to exploit the absolute hell out of this loophole. He was going to use Dreamscape to elevate his Shadow Dance technique and endlessly farm the [Prince of the Underworld] counter with a constant, never-ending stream of safe, non-lethal victories.
Now that he finally owned a secure home and an expensive pod, the ultimate grinding opportunity was waiting for him.
***
Sunny descended into the basement.
He walked over to the corner where the three pods sat side by side.
He stopped by Cielle's pod first. He didn't mean to, it was just a reflex. He leaned over the heavy glass lid, looking at the small digital display near the top. Her vitals were blinking in a calm, steady green line. The numbers were perfect. He had completely memorized what her "safe" metrics looked like, which was annoying, but necessary.
His own pod sat right next to it. It was newer, sleeker, and significantly more expensive.
"Two heavy metal coffins for two absolute idiots who keep leaving a perfectly good, safe house to go get punched in places that technically don't exist on earth," Sunny muttered to the empty room.
He turned away from the pods and began to pace the length of the armored dojo.
Come on now, Sunny thought, rolling his shoulders. You've been preparing for this for a long time. Get into character.
As he paced, his entire physical presence slowly began to shift. The way Sunny walked, the natural slump of his shoulders, the specific cadence of his hand movements, everything subtly rearranged itself.
"There are six gods. The War God, also known as the God of Life. The Beast God, also known as the Goddess of the Moon. The Sun God…"
As he recited the names, the very rhythm and pitch of his voice changed. The difference wasn't dramatic enough to sound like a cartoon caricature, but it was noticeable. It sounded like an entirely different person.
One by one, Sunny locked away every single trait that could be traced back to him. He had spent hours training for this, using the extreme physical malleability of Shadow Dance to rewrite his own muscle memory. He was a creature of deception; this was exactly what he was built for.
Weaver's Mask would protect his identity from anyone trying to divine his secrets through magic, not that it was needed but the extra measure was nice. But he had to deal with the mundane forms of identification himself.
When he was finally satisfied with his new, entirely fake persona, Sunny undressed, approached the sleek simulation pod, and climbed into the soft gel of the cradle. He summoned the Weaver's Mask, letting the polished black wood settle over his face.
"Synchronize," Sunny commanded.
The heavy lid hissed shut, sealing him in total darkness. A string of shimmering, artificial blue letters appeared floating in the void above him:
[Enter Dreamscape?]
[Yes] [No]
He sighed, mentally clicking the "Yes."
A moment later, his physical body fell asleep, and his consciousness was violently yanked into the network.
***
Sunny opened his eyes.
He was standing in a boundless, absolute black void. All around him, countless brilliant stars burned with ethereal light, connected by an inconceivably complex, glowing weave of strings.
Sunny stared at the massive, cosmic tapestry for exactly three seconds before his Flaw scoffed in the back of his mind.
There was no logic or sense to the pattern. He couldn't feel the deep, terrifying weight of fate hidden in the glowing strings. It wasn't real sorcery. It was just a highly rendered loading screen. A pretty, expensive fake.
Other than the skybox, though, the simulation was impressively accurate. He looked down and saw his own body. The Soul Serpent was perfectly rendered, coiling darkly around his arms and torso. The system had recreated his physical appearance down to the smallest... well. In great detail.
Huh, Sunny thought, slightly offended by the accuracy.
Shaking his head, Sunny summoned the Mantle of the Underworld. The heavy, dark onyx armor wove itself out of black threads, instantly covering him in imposing, terrifying steel. As soon as the helm clicked into place, a pleasant, highly artificial voice echoed in the void:
"Challenger! Welcome to the Dreamscape."
Sunny summoned the Autumn Leaf, a minor charm memory that allowed him to change his hair color. After a brief second of hesitation, he shifted his dark hair to a stark, blinding white.
'Alright. What next? Where are the people I get to hit?'
The pleasant voice promptly responded:
"Before proceeding further, please choose an alias."
Sunny blinked behind his mask. Right. A name.
It had to be something that didn't sound like him at all. Something completely detached from his real identity. He thought for a moment, recalling a story Nephis had told him once about an ancient hero who had blinded a giant. He smiled.
"Nobody," Sunny declared confidently. It was perfect. He could already imagine the announcer screaming, Nobody has won the match! It was hilarious.
"Alias 'Nobody' is taken," the system chimed politely. "Please choose another."
Sunny frowned. "Uh…"
"Alias 'Uh' is taken. Please choose another."
Sunny's eyes widened. "What? No, wait!"
"Alias 'What? No, wait!' is taken. Please choose another."
Sunny snapped his mouth shut. He stood in the glittering void, feeling a deep, profound sense of irritation blooming in his chest. Was this stupid machine mocking him?
He needed an alias that sounded edgy enough to belong here, but fundamentally opposed to everything he actually was.
For the next five minutes, Sunny stood in the void and rattled off a dozen different names.
"The Shadow." (Taken.)
"Dark Blade." (Taken.)
"Lord of Night." (Taken.)
"Vengeance." (Taken.)
"Vader"(Taken)
"Cat"(Taken)
The level of coolness in his suggestions rapidly dropped, while his absolute rage toward the company that programmed this system skyrocketed.
Finally, Sunny threw his hands up in the air, let out a furious growl, and spat out the absolute first insulting word that came to his mind.
"Mongrel!"
The Dreamscape was silent for a moment. The stars twinkled mockingly.
"Welcome, Mongrel," the voice chimed cheerfully. "Please, choose a dream of your liking."
Sunny froze.
'Really?! 'Sunny thought, absolutely horrified. 'Mongrel?! Well… mission accomplished, I guess! That is quite literally the last thing I would ever want to be known as!'
He let out a heavy, suffering sigh. As he stood there mourning his lost dignity, several large, glowing images appeared floating in the void in front of him.
They were depictions of different environments, mostly various styles of combat arenas. From his pre-dive research, Sunny knew that the choice of arena dictated the matchmaking pool. Some were open to the public, filled with casuals. Some required a specific win-rate to access, where the professional duelists and corporate sponsored fighters spent their time.
'Dreams… What a stupid name,' Sunny grumbled internally.' If I was actually dreaming right now, I'd be back in the Chained Isles freezing in the mud. Though i would get to meet cielle atleast'
He needed a place where he could fight highly skilled, try-hard amateurs. People who knew how to hold a sword, but weren't famous enough to draw massive crowds. He needed to farm wins quietly.
He pointed a gauntleted finger at an image of a brutal, sand-filled pit surrounded by stone tiers.
"There," Mongrel said.
A moment later, the void shattered, dissolving into bright light and the roar of a digital crowd.
A massive voice thundered from the heavens above him:
"Challenger Mongrel has entered the Colosseum!"