Sunny shut down the illusion. The underground dojo was silent and submerged in darkness, almost like the lightless expanse of his soul.
Crawling out of the Dreamscape pod, he glanced at it, and then walked to the middle of the hall. There, he sat down on the cold ceramic plates of the floor, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.
Back in the illusory world created by the will of an eccentric Saint, the tournament was coming to an end. There were spectacles, festivities, and accolades being given to the winners. But he didn't care.
He didn't care about the legend of Mongrel, either. Sunny had no doubt that his inexplicable refusal of the final reward and daring challenge had created quite a stir. Were people praising Mongrel for his resolve and ambition? Or mocking his defeat and calling him a fool? In any case, the network must have been boiling right now.
Sunny couldn't be bothered to check.
He had much more important concerns.