Even Syleric's newly gained ability to manipulate how others perceived him couldn't hide the flicker of jealousy in his eyes. It wasn't born of contempt, but of quiet insecurity.
Cedrien was aware of the inferiority complex Syleric had always carried around him, though he never acknowledged it, these were not the kinds of things men in their world discussed.
So Cedrien played down his own ability. "Ah, it might seem impressive at first, but it wouldn't work against a mind fortified in its self-image. Besides, I've heard that most people with Legendary Skills end up being defeated by lower ranks."
"That's true," Orselith interjected. "No matter your skill set, it all comes down to how you use it. The entire game revolves around who can maintain composure the longest under the psychological trials the system imposes, along with enemy manipulation.
They monitor your mental balance through a device, if it hits zero, you'll most likely be killed. And by the way, take a thirty-minute break. You'll be moving to Neon Spire soon. I've already called for transportation."
But Syleric wasn't comforted. In fact, the reassurance only made him feel worse, as though he'd been seen through, like a child who needed validation from someone stronger. Cedrien's words weren't meant to belittle him, but Syleric's insecurity twisted them into something sharper.
He thought to himself, It's always him, isn't it? We're equals in almost every way… No, I'm better than him in many ways. Yet everyone always gravitates toward him. Even Sister Elisa. And luck… luck always seems to favor him. It's as if he sees me as inferior, even though he's just lucky every damn time.
"Syleric. Syleric!" Cedrien called out, raising his voice. "Syleric!"
Syleric snapped out of his thoughts and quickly masked his expression with a smile. "That's really impressive, Cedrien Alvyrin."
Cedrien nodded with a faint smile. In a softer tone, he said, "Syleric, you know you're the only one I've got."
Syleric paused, his eyes widening slightly. "Where did that come from? … Anyway, I need to go relieve my storage."
"You must come back quickly! The transport will arrive soon!" yelled Orselith as Syleric walked away. Syleric raised his hand dismissively, as if to say, Noted.
Cedrien sighed and stretched. "That really worked, Doc. This ability… it's truly marvelous."
Orselith replied with mild amusement, "Ah, I knew you were behind it."
Cedrien chuckled softly. "I didn't do much. I just brought to light what was already there. Anyway, Doc, our information and memories were stored during this procedure, right? And it'll continue to record everything from here on out?"
Orselith, impressed by how quickly Cedrien understood, gave a nod.
"So… do you think a humanoid version of a deceased person who played the game could be recreated?" Cedrien asked quietly.
Orselith answered plainly, "It can be done, but it would only be an illusion. The same consciousness cannot be replicated. However…"
Cedrien's jaw tightened. He turned toward the window, gazing out at the bleak gray city. His eyes carried a heavy sadness.
After some time, the transport arrived on the rooftop, a massive drone with a cabin attached beneath it. The interior was sleek and high-tech, yet comfortable. Inside, there were pre-tailored formal clothes for both participants, along with a shower.
They were required to shower and change before departure, and so they did. Once the drone took off, a table slid from the center of the cabin, its top opening to reveal a platform laden with food.
The dishes were of astonishing quality, rich with flavor, nothing like what they'd ever tasted in Grayline. They devoured it without restraint. When they were done, they gazed out the window, watching their lifeless gray city shrink beneath them. The view filled them with a strange mix of sorrow and wonder.
As they approached Neon Spire, the difference between the two cities became strikingly clear. The architecture still resembled 20th-century European design, despite it now being the 25th century. The city seemed sparsely populated, radiating an odd sense of both eeriness and peace.
Syleric leaned back in his seat, resting his head against the wall. Staring at the ceiling, he spoke in a heavy tone, "Cedrien… what if we were to meet as opponents in the game?"
Cedrien kept his gaze fixed on the window. "Hmm, haven't you thought about that before? If we keep winning, and I know we will, we'll eventually face each other. If that day comes…" He turned to Syleric with a faint smile. "Maybe it won't come at all. I'm still set on following the path she took."
Syleric chuckled softly. "You probably won't. I know you—you'll keep winning. And when that day arrives, you'll most likely be the one holding the gun. After all… Selara, right?"
"Selara, Selara, Selara… when will she ever leave my mind," Cedrien muttered, lying back on the sofa.
As they relaxed, the aircraft suddenly shifted direction, tilting slightly and making them sway. They both peered out the window and saw the horizon turning sideways. The bright sunlight dimmed behind a curtain of gray clouds, and the world outside grew darker.
Then an AI voice echoed from the speaker above.
> "We apologize for the sudden change in route. Your destination has been redirected to Silicon Height. Prepare for battle. The rules are as follows:
Each participant enters with a stability meter reflecting their mental balance. If it reaches zero, the participant is considered broken. The victor will then be given a choice, either kill or spare the opponent. However, 50% of the experience and reward will be deducted if the opponent is spared.
Each player receives a psych dossier on their opponent, half true, half falsified.
Each player may request one item before the match begins, as long as it's within reason.
A player wins by choosing to kill or spare a broken opponent, by forcing a forfeit, or if the 30-minute time limit expires and the judges rule in their favor based on dominance."
The AI continued listing additional rules, but those were the main ones. Both Cedrien and Syleric sat quietly, their minds racing, mentally preparing for the event that could change their lives forever. The room grew silent except for the quickening rhythm of their heartbeats.
As they neared their destination, the view outside transformed entirely. Flying vehicles filled the sky, and the city below unfolded in perfect geometric harmony, its architecture precise, its layout unnervingly flawless. It was beautiful, yet unsettling, like the humanoids who inhabited it.
Silicon Height was alive and fully functional, operating at peak efficiency. Yet an eerie emptiness lingered in the air, a void that no progress could fill.
Upon landing, they were escorted to a medium-sized stadium already packed with spectators. Though humanoids were known for their emotionless demeanor, this crowd seemed genuinely excited for what they were about to witness.
Apparently, the previous match had ended in disappointment, the opponent had lost within three minutes. The audience's dissatisfaction led the organizers to call in a newly arrived Neural Ascender possessing a Legendary-class skill: Cedrien.
In the blink of an eye, Cedrien was transported onto the stage, a transparent chamber set at the center of the arena. Unlike the roaring crowd outside, the room itself was utterly silent.
The humanoid judge began introducing the participants. The opponent was Cilian, a tall, lean man with blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. He carried himself with composure and calculation, possessing an Epic-class skill—one tier below Legendary. His rank was Cipher, just below the elite Sentinels.
On the other side stood Cedrien—six feet tall, with medium brown hair and sharp, defined features. His gaze was steady and precise. Though he possessed a Legendary skill, his rank was only Null, the lowest tier.
After the introductions, the rules were announced aloud. Every five minutes, the system would gradually make the environment more uncomfortable. Each participant was allowed a 2.5-minute break within the container itself. No physical contact, explicit threats, or verbal insults were permitted.
Both players began reviewing the psychological dossiers provided to them. Cedrien found two particularly interesting pieces of information, and so did Cilian. A faint, knowing smile formed on Cilian's face as he looked at Cedrien, as if he had already won.
Cedrien understood his situation clearly. He was at a severe disadvantage; his opponent stood three ranks above him, which meant Cilian's cognitive profile and mental processing speed far surpassed his own. He thought to himself "Shit! Is this really it for me."