'Ugh… what the hell…?'
Sunny almost killed March right then and there. Unfortunately, no amount of murder would erase the imagery of her words. He walked into the training room once more, except this time, he was completely alone.
Before he left, he told March some misleading statements on what he knew about Mongrel. The first thing he did was vehemently insist that he was a man, and was not having relations with a metal sarcophagus. Then, to seperate Sunny's real identity with Mongrel's, he talked about the Mantle of the Underworld, stating that he believed that it wasn't the only one of it's kind.
Sunny had suspected that there may be more armor similar to the Mantle of the Underworld, if not outright copies. The reason for this was because he knew that Saint, his Shadow, wasn't the only one of her kind. In fact, her people must have been part of the Daemon's army — if not the entire army itself.
When he pointed that out, it seemed like March had completely forgotten that his armor was similar to Mongrel's, despite having pointed it out in a video a while back. Then, she began to compliment her own deductive skills…
Either way, Sunny's identity was safe. He didn't want people to know he was an intergalactic criminal. Telling the authorities 'I forgot' probably wouldn't cut it.
Sending out his shadows to keep watch in case someone stepped in, he commanded the Soul Serpent to shape itself into a weapon and walked to the middle of the training room. He was impatient to cement the knowledge of the battle styles he had absorbed today.
Sunny started to perform various katas, executing each one slowly at first, and then quicker, and quicker, and quicker still. Soon, he moved with incredible speed, his lithe and flexible body almost leaving afterimages behind. Lean muscles were rolling under his pale skin, which soon glistened with sweat.
Sunny fluidly shifted from one style to another, his movements simultaneously firm and flowing, sharp and gentle, clear and unpredictable. The Soul Serpent flowed from one form to another, too, as insidious and shapeless as the person who wielded it. It was as though Sunny was performing a strange, graceful, viciously complicated dance.
…His three shadows danced with him, moving swiftly on the ceramic plates of the armored floor.
'I can feel it… the second step. I can feel it, but why can't I reach it? Something is missing…'
After a long time, Sunny tiredly fell on the cold ceramic floor and remained motionless for several minutes, his chest moving heavily. There was a tired, but determined expression on his face.
'More, I need more. More and better…'
***
Very soon, he was back in the arena. Sunny had skipped all the theatrics again and only entered the Dreamscape at the last minute, hoping to avoid any situation that could lead to him being asked questions.
Sadly, he couldn't avoid his opponents, and if they wanted to talk, he had to answer.
Currently, he was facing a man wearing a peculiar armor made out of rusted metal, their face grim and full of dark apprehension. He was in his early thirties — maybe not, since measuring an Awakened's age is a wasted effort — and looked like someone who had led a rough life.
"Challenger Mongrel has joined the fight!"
"Challenger What? No, wait! Has joined the fight!"
Hidden behind the mask, Sunny raised his eyebrows.
'What's up with that alias? Wait... why does it sound familiar?'
While he was trying to remember where he had heard this bizarre name, the man summoned a shield and an arming sword, glanced at him darkly, and asked:
"You're the new guy everyone is talking about? The Mongrel wannabe?"
Sunny sighed, knowing what would follow.
"No."
His opponent frowned.
"Why are you lying?"
Sunny rolled his eyes, exasperated by all the talk. However, he didn't want to attack the older man recklessly. His opponent had to be quite powerful to get this far.
"I am not lying."
The man sneered.
"That's exactly what a liar would say! Do you think I'm an idiot?"
'Just shut up already…'
He took a step forward and said:
"Yes."
The older man stared at him for a few moments, his face full of anger and confusion. After a while, he hissed:
"Brat, you must be courting death..."
Behind Weaver's Mask, Sunny gasped.
'He said the thing!'