Shadow Slave

The opening ceremony of the tournament was supposed to be a spectacular event, with thousands of challengers — each of them a talented Awakened fighter — gathered in the magnificent central courtyard of the illusory Bastion. Slightly more than a thousand of them were those participating in the individual competition, and the rest were members of competing cohorts.

The representative of the great clan Valor welcomed them and gave a short speech, after which an androgynous person of undetermined age in exquisite silk garments — the eccentric Saint responsible for creating the Dreamscape — followed suit. This Transcendent had a hypnotically beautiful face that was, for some reason, plastered with an unreasonable amount of makeup, and a genteel, almost effeminate bearing.

If Sunny was there, he would recognize their pleasant voice as the one that read all the announcements in the Dreamscape.

But he wasn't.

Why would he waste time on these theatrics? He skipped the speeches, the performances, the incredible montage of the most exciting moments from the battles of the previous day, and even the event that everyone had been waiting for with bated breath — the formation of the tournament bracket that would determine who would face whom and in what order.

Sunny didn't care who was going to fight him, he just wanted to kill somebody as soon as possible.

With each round of duels, half of the participants were going to be eliminated. That meant that he had to win ten consecutive fights to receive the best reward. Of course, it wasn't an easy task… by now, there were no amateurs remaining in the tournament. Every single one of the thousand challengers was a formidable warrior, and by the end of it, only true talents would remain.

It was also a perfect chance for him to try and learn their polished battle styles.

Sunny waited until the bracket was almost complete and finally dove into the Dreamscape. The menacing black figure of Mongrel appeared among the crowd of challengers, causing a bit of a stir. Immediately, those closest to him began to whisper.

"Hey! It's him!"

"Man. The bastard is even scarier in real life. That scene from the montage... gods, I'm so glad we chose to enter the tournament as a cohort!"

"Ptui! What's the big deal? I hope I draw him as an opponent… crushing this wannabe should be fun…"

Ignoring the whispers, Sunny looked around with curiosity. He wasn't interested in the people gathered around him, but in the courtyard itself. This was his first time inside Bastion… well, an illusory version of it. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit of awe. This was a legendary place… one of the earliest Citadels conquered by humans, their greatest foothold in the Dream Realm. The seat of a Great Clan's power.

...And the former stronghold of one of the daemons.

It was like he was part of history.

curiosity didn't last long, however, quickly drowned by anger and

does

hands were itching

Sunny didn't bother to

moment, and then he found himself in the courtyard again — only this time, the crowd of challengers was gone, leaving only him and his

excited spectators looking down from the

young man in a striking bloodred armor, wielding a long espadon.

as the young man saw the black mask,

knew this would happen! Crap, not

growled and dashed forward,

flew into the air, the audience exploded with

in Red was

***

a lighthearted discussion with Dimi when the producer of the broadcast addressed him through the earpiece, forcing the young man to blink a couple

to interrupt you, Dimi, but it seems

to a replay of a swift and brutal duel that ended before the voice of the Dreamscape could even introduce the fighters. That was a first

Of course, it

His colleague laughed.

not disheartened. There is no shame in losing to such a fearsome enemy… everyone who made it through the qualifying rounds

glanced at the figure in black armor standing motionlessly above the corpse of

did Mongrel

he really is a Nightmare

to sometimes joining the other commentators to spectate the

next ones as well — the enigmatic swordsman seemed to lose all his edge, and engaged in protracted, slow, exhausting battles with

but not a diehard

he had an

struggling all of a sudden? After

The older man chuckled.