Sunny stood in the center of the Colosseum, staring down his thirty-fifth opponent of the afternoon, and strongly considered just sitting down in the digital sand and taking a nap.
He had only logged into the Dreamscape today to do some light maintenance on the [Prince of the Underworld] counter. He just wanted a few quick, easy victories. Instead, he had somehow attracted an entire lobby of highly enthusiastic roleplayers who insisted on treating every duel like the climax of an epic fantasy movie.
The current challenger, a heavily armored brute wielding two massive axes, was currently pacing in a circle, pointing a weapon at Sunny's terrifying, masked face.
"I see through your dark facade, Mongrel!" the man bellowed to the cheering amphitheater. "You think you can just walk in here and slaughter us without explaining yourself? Tell me, demon! Why do you fight?!"
Sunny let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh. He opened his mouth, fully intending to say: I literally just want to upgrade my armor and steal your battle art. Please just swing your axes.
However, he was wearing Weaver's Mask. The Flaw intercepted his tired, entirely mundane truth, violently inverted it, and forced it out of his throat with maximum theatrical malice.
"I am a herald of the dark," Mongrel's deep voice boomed across the arena, echoing with chilling finality.
Sunny winced behind the mask. Okay, that was bad. Stop talking.
"What?" the challenger demanded, taking a step back. "A herald of the dark? What drives you?!"
Sunny tried to say: Nothing! I live with a crazy roommate who eats all my groceries, and I need a distraction!
The Flaw twisted it.
"I am bound to a creature of terrifying beauty and pure ruin," Mongrel declared, his voice dripping with dark, poetic obsession. "I fight only to sate her endless hunger."
Sunny's soul physically attempted to leave his body.
I meant she eats a lot of chicken! his internal monologue shrieked in absolute horror. Why did it make it sound like a gothic romance novel?! Wait a minute, who am I even talking about? I mean they are both beautiful, and bring ruin….
The crowd went absolutely, dead silent. The sheer, overwhelming edginess of the statement seemed to paralyze the entire arena.
The challenger swallowed hard, clearly intimidated, but he raised his axes anyway. "You... you will not defeat me! I have mastered the Eight Winds technique! Let me tell you how—"
Sunny had heard enough. He raised his hand. He tried to say: Be quiet, I'm tired.
"Silence is gold," Mongrel interrupted, his tone as cold as the grave. He stepped forward, raising the massive, lusterless odachi. "Dont waste my breath"
Sunny didn't wait for the man to recover from the sheer weight of the dialogue. He dashed forward, deflected the axes with a simple flick of his wrist, and cleaved the man in half with a single, flawless strike.
As the opponent dissolved into sparks, the crowd erupted into absolute, deafening hysteria.
Sunny didn't even check his victory counter. He couldn't take it anymore. The psychic damage was too high. He instantly pulled up his system menu and violently slammed the disconnect button.
***
Sunny gasped, his eyes snapping open in the safe, quiet dimness of his basement.
The heavy lid of the simulation pod hissed open, letting in a draft of cool air. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal.
'It's fine,' Sunny told himself, climbing out of the gel and grabbing a towel.' It's just an illusion. A fake lobby. Nobody actually cares what people say in the amateur arenas.'
He walked upstairs, deeply appreciating the solid, mundane reality of his wooden floorboards. The house was quiet. Cielle's pod was empty downstairs, which meant she was probably wandering around somewhere, hopefully not trying to invent new forms of combustion in his kitchen.
Sunny walked into the living room, grabbed his communicator off the coffee table, and turned it on.
It immediately started vibrating violently.
He frowned, looking at the screen. He had dozens of notifications. The first one at the top of the pile was a message from Effie, sent ten minutes ago.
[Effie]: Hey shorty! I found a boyfriend for your creepy stone girlfriend.
[Effie]: Check out this Dreamscape edgelord. They'd be perfect together. They can sit in the dark and brood about the abyss.
[Effie]: [Link Attached: MONGREL TREADS THE PATH OF RUIN]
Sunny stared at the screen. A cold, dreadful sinking feeling opened up in the pit of his stomach.
With a trembling finger, he clicked the link.
His communicator immediately opened the global Dreamscape discussion forums. Sunny had never actually visited the forums before. He generally avoided Awakened social media because it was full of idiots.
He was not prepared for what he saw.
The entire front page, literally every single trending thread, was about him.
[THREAD]: WHO IS MONGREL? THE BASTARD SON OF A SAINT?!
[THREAD]: THE FALLING HEAVEN BRAWLER - Breakdown of his bare-handed techniques!
[THREAD]: Is Mongrel an actual Demon that hacked the network?
[THREAD]: [CLIPPED] Mongrel executing Striker, Saifer, and Fool in 12 seconds.
Sunny stared at the screen in absolute, unadulterated horror. They had recorded him. They had recorded everything. His massacre of the streamers from his first session had apparently gone viral, and now thousands of people were actively hunting for his lobbies.
His finger hovered over the screen, and he reluctantly clicked on a massive thread titled: [ANALYSIS: The Philosophy of Mongrel's Master.]
He scrolled down, reading the top comments.
User_Blade99: Did you guys hear what he said today in the Colosseum?! "I am bound to a creature of terrifying beauty and pure ruin. I fight only to sate her endless hunger." Who is he talking about?!
Scholar_Of_Light: It is clearly metaphorical. Mongrel is not speaking of a literal woman or creature. He is a sage of combat. The 'creature of terrifying beauty and pure ruin' is an allegory for Life itself. Life is beautiful, but it leads to ruin. He fights to sate the endless hunger of existence!
ShadowStabber: No way, bro. He said he was tutored by a creature of pure ruin last week, remember? When he used the Falling Heaven style! I bet he's the secret disciple of a corrupted Saint. He's the bastard son of a Legacy clan!
DeepLore42: The sheer existential nihilism of his dialogue is breathtaking. "Silence is gold. Don't waste my breath." He doesn't even view his opponents as worthy being to speak! He has transcended the concept of amateur dueling!
Sunny dropped his communicator onto the couch as if it had physically burned him.
He buried his face in his hands, letting out a muffled, agonizing groan.
'A sage of combat?! Existential nihilism?!' Sunny shrieked internally. I am a man who got scammed by a refrigerator! I was talking about my roommate's appetite!
"Are you in pain?"
Sunny jumped a foot in the air, spinning around.
Cielle was standing directly behind the couch. She was completely silent, barefoot, wearing one of his hoodies this time. She was holding a mug of water in both hands, staring at him with her large, perfectly calm green eyes.
"Gods, Cielle! Put a bell on!" Sunny gasped, clutching his chest. "No, I'm not in pain. I am just... experiencing a severe crisis of public perception."
Cielle tilted her head. She walked around the couch and looked down at his communicator, which was still displaying the brightly lit forum page.
Sunny lunged to grab the device, but he was entirely too slow. Cielle's eyes locked onto the massive thumbnail image attached to the top thread. It was a high-resolution, perfectly rendered screenshot of Mongrel standing in the Colosseum, resting the massive black odachi on his shoulder.
She blinked.
Sunny froze. Wait. Oh no.
"That is your armor," Cielle stated, pointing a finger at the screen.
"No, it's not," Sunny lied immediately, panic flooding his veins. "It's just a generic Dreamscape post of some guy…"
Cielle looked at him, her expression completely flat. She looked back at the screen.
"It is the Mantle of the Underworld," Cielle said, her voice entirely reasonable. "It has the exact same abyssal weave on the left pauldron. And that is the Odachi form of the Soul Serpent. And that is the mask you wear when you do not want to answer my questions."
Sunny stared at her. He had completely forgotten that she had seen him fight in the Chained Isles while wearing the Mantle. She literally lived with him. Of course she recognized it.
"You are Mongrel," Cielle concluded. It wasn't an accusation. It was just a factual observation, like noting that the sky was blue.
"Okay, fine!" Sunny hissed, his face burning. "Yes. It's me. I was just trying to farm victories for the armor's enchantment in secret! But the whole lobby started quoting me, and now there are entire philosophical treatises about my dialogue!"
Cielle picked up the communicator. She calmly scrolled through the thread, her eyes scanning the text with the same intense focus she gave to cooking.
"They think you are the bastard son of a Saint," she read aloud.
"I know," Sunny groaned, covering his face again.
"They are analyzing your quotes," she continued. She paused, her eyes lingering on a specific block of text. She read it out loud, her voice perfectly deadpan. "'I am a herald of the dark. I am bound to a creature of terrifying beauty and pure ruin. I fight only to sate her endless hunger.'"
Sunny felt his ears physically catch fire.
Cielle looked up from the screen, her gaze locking onto him. She blinked slowly.
"I eat a lot of the food," Cielle noted. "Am I the endless hunger?"
"Cielle, please—"
"Am I the creature of terrifying beauty and pure ruin?" she asked, her tone entirely earnest. There wasn't a drop of teasing in her voice. She was genuinely trying to verify the claim.
Sunny let out a ragged, desperate sound. "It's the mask! The mask reverses everything I try to say! I was just trying to tell them that I live with a crazy girl who eats all my groceries, and the mask turned it into... into that! Scratch that, i meant it for someone else, yeah for another white haired angle"
"Oh," Cielle said, nodding in understanding. She looked back down at the screen. "The internet thinks that angle is a metaphor for life itself."
"The internet is full of idiots who have never fought for their lives!" Sunny snapped, pacing around the living room. "They think it's a persona! They think I'm trying to be some sort of dark, brooding edgelord!"
Cielle watched him pace. She looked at the quotes again. She seemed to be mentally digesting the information, categorizing it in her strange, literal brain.
Sunny stopped pacing, turning to her with a pleading look. "Just... please forget you saw this. If anyone finds out Mongrel is me, i will be in a lot of trouble, you know how i try to stay under the radar. Promise me you won't repeat any of this."
Cielle looked at his flushed, completely panicked face. She set the communicator down on the table. She stood up straight, folding her hands neatly behind her back.
She looked him dead in the eyes, her expression utterly solemn and completely devoid of humor.
"Silence is gold," Cielle said, perfectly imitating his deep, dramatic cadence. "I won't waste your breath."
Sunny's brain completely flatlined.
"Cielle!" he squeaked, his voice cracking violently.
She nodded earnestly, her large green eyes perfectly innocent. "I am practicing your persona so I can support your disguise."
"It is not a persona! It is a curse!" Sunny buried his face in the couch cushions, completely surrendering his dignity to the void. "I am going to die here. You are going to kill me with embarrassment."
Cielle tilted her head, watching him silently suffer. She reached out and gave his dark hair a few stiff, awkward pats of comfort.
"Do not worry, Sunny," she said softly. "I think you are a very terrifying bastard son."