Chương 172: Chapter 171 - Pangea (L)

Go inside? The same place I was with Darius? I stay silent, turning the idea over in my mind.

"How exactly does that work? I thought me being in that place was a rare occurrence because of my half-dead state at the time."" And it was," Houston replies." Something I hadn't initially considered possible. But… anything that happens once can be reproduced. In this case, the idea is to disconnect your mind from your body while keeping you conscious. That should bring you to the same space as us, as your mind will remain solely connected to the Pillar." A cold shiver runs down my spine. Something about it feels…

off.

"Disconnecting me from my body? Can you even do that? And what happens then? I just go limp? How do I come back? Is it something I can control, or only you?" Houston pauses, likely contemplating how best to explain." There's no need to sever your pathways. Instead, I'd use EM waves to block transmissions at certain nexus points. It's an active process—it has to be maintained for you to remain in the space. The moment it stops, you'll return instantly. And yes, only I can initiate it and keep it active.

While you're there, your body will essentially go limp, so you'd need to lie down somewhere safe—like the cave." I fall quiet, my mind racing. Memories of sparring with Darius flood back.

I can't deny the potential this process holds. Manifesting there, fully immersed, could bring unprecedented opportunities. But still… I sigh, exhaling the weight of my doubts.

"I'm assuming you've already analyzed all the pros, cons, risks, and whatever else comes with this. So… I'll trust you. If you think this is for the best, let's give it a shot."" Yes, yes, I have. So, do you want to try it now?"

"Okay." I start walking toward the cave and lie down on the makeshift bed. The action makes me chuckle.

"I guess I'm seriously not getting out of bed today." Then, pausing, I close my eyes and let my tone shift to something more serious.

"Ready whenever you are." And then… nothing happens. No, wait. The smells are gone—the faint earthy scent of the cave, the leaves beneath me. Even the texture under my body is missing. I open my eyes to a clear blue sky above me. Sitting up, I plant my hands on the ground. It's smooth and featureless, like polished stone.

"That went well," I hear a familiar voice and turn toward its origin. There, standing in a plain white lab coat with messy hair and a face that's a near-perfect replica of my own—if slightly thinner—is Houston.

"I knew you'd be wearing a lab coat," I say, grinning.

"Well, you guessed right," he replies, stepping forward and extending his hand.

"I believe this is the first time we've met like this. Welcome to our humble virtual space." I shake my head, bypassing his handshake as I step closer and pull him into a tight hug. He stiffens, clearly caught off guard, before awkwardly patting my back in what I guess is his version of reciprocating. I laugh as we separate.

"After everything we've been through, a handshake? Seriously, Houston? Come on."

"Well… anyway, it worked. How do you feel?" I touch my body, trying to get a sense of the surroundings. There's definitely something off—subtle, but noticeable.

"It feels like I'm in virtual space, I guess. Or maybe a decent-quality video game," I muse.

"What about your body functions? Can you breathe? Do you feel your heart beating? Can you feel pain?" he asks, his gaze serious. Breathing? Wait... I suddenly inhale sharply, realizing I hadn't been breathing before. But now that I've started, I can't seem to stop. What the heck? And my heart? I focus on it—it's not beating. Or... wait. Now it is. I concentrate again and notice I can make it stop entirely. Houston watches my reaction closely.

"I suppose these things might take some time to get used to. Just ignore them, and eventually, you'll forget—like last time," he says, his tone calm and measured.

"As for the surroundings, as you might imagine, I designed most of it bit by bit. I focused more on certain elements, like my home, while leaving other areas more basic. Darius added his touch here and there as well."

"I figured as much," I reply, glancing at the trees and grass, noticing how everything feels deliberate but not overly intricate.

"So, how long have you been working on this? When did you start designing this place? And where's all this information stored? Your neural pathways or the Pillar?"

"I started during the waiting room," Houston explains.

"Back then, it was just a blank white space, with basic virtual bodies for Darius and me. Over time, I've added more details. As for the information, it's stored in the Pillar. That way, Darius and I can share it, which wouldn't be possible if it were confined to our individual neural pathways." As he speaks, Houston raises a hand, and in the air between us, a crystalline structure materializes, slowly unfolding and reshaping itself into a 3D image of Earth with the moon orbiting around it.

The details are rough but impressive nonetheless.

"Just a little demonstration," he says casually, as the image twists and collapses into glowing particles that scatter like embers into the air. In their place, a simple blue flower appears, suspended and vivid against the empty backdrop.

"And sometimes, simplicity is key," he adds with a snap of his fingers. The flower dissolves instantly, leaving the air as pristine as before.

"Touché," I glance at the now-pristine air where the flower dissolved.

"Still, odd you never mentioned this place."

"Well," Houston shrugs, "I didn't see much benefit in telling you. Plus, I figured it might freak you out to know there's a virtual world in your head with people... sort of living in it." The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I remain silent for a moment, then nod.

"Fair enough. So, what's the plan here? More sparring?"

"Kind of," he says.

"My plan is for you to spar with Darius actively for three hours a day. What are your thoughts on that?"

"Hmm, sounds good to me. But… what happens with the training I do here? How does it reflect in my body? And what about muscle memory?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll handle the muscle memory transfer to your body. Basically, you'll do a half-hour practice in real life after you finish here, and your progress will sync with your physical form—with my assistance."

"Like with old Phase 2 and 3?"

"Somewhat," he replies.

"Alright. So, should I start now, or is there more you want to say?" A flicker of hesitation crosses Houston's expression before it turns more serious.

"As you can imagine, the possibilities in this virtual world are vast, but there are limits to how much it can truly enhance you. To strengthen your physical body, you'll still need to train in real life. The same goes for improving your wave mastery, as you can't train that here. The primary benefit of this space is sharpening your combat awareness and mastery. This includes swordsmanship, footwork, battle sense, adaptability, and leveraging the environment."

"So… I won't just be fighting Darius?"

"For now, yes. I think it's best to start with that. Based on how it goes today, I'll prepare more for next time. As for duels with Darius, there are a few things you should know." I raise an eyebrow, giving him my full attention.

"First, as you already know, dying in these duels is fine since you'll reset instantly. So, always go all out—treat it like a real battle to the death. That's how you'll get the best results. Second, I can't adjust the pain levels; it's too complex for me right now. Non-lethal injuries will leave a pixelated mark, and lethal ones will teleport you back to your starting position." I nod slowly, absorbing the information.

"Not a fan of pain, so yeah, sounds fine."

"And finally," Houston says, pausing for a moment.

"How good do you think your current swordsmanship is?"

"My swordsmanship?" I blink, slightly taken aback by the unexpected question.

"I mean, it's not bad, but it depends on who you compare it to. According to your stats, I'm getting closer to Siddharth's level, right?" Houston sighs.

"You're still a fair way off, even with nearly double his Stage Progress. That comparison isn't exactly balanced. But that's not the point. The real question is: do you believe you're good enough as you are right now?" I stay silent for a moment, meeting his gaze.

"No. I believe it will never be enough. The idea is to keep improving all the time. If I slow down, The Tower will swallow me. I mean… I still don't get your point. Are you saying my swordsmanship sucks and I need to focus on it more?"

"Not exactly," Houston replies, his tone measured.

"Alright, another question: without Overdrive, how would you rate your current full combat style against Siddharth under equal Stage Progress? Would you win or lose?"

"Without Overdrive… I'd lose," I admit without hesitation.

"But we've been through this before. Overdrive is an intrinsic part of me now. Why should I take it away?"

"I'm not saying you should take it away," Houston says, shaking his head.

"I'm saying Overdrive enhances your senses and gives you a significant edge in combat. It makes things almost too easy. And while that's useful, it means you're not being pushed as hard. The requirements on your technique are lower because you can always rely on superior reflexes and strength. But that reliance? It's dragging your potential down. Overdrive shouldn't replace proper technique. No… it should enhance it." The realization dawns on me. Indeed... improvements on my technique have been lacking.

"It's fine," Houston says, his tone reassuring.

"Now, with this training space, you can slowly perfect your technique over time. And you'll have the perfect teacher." He smiles faintly.

"Darius may be an evil bas —well, odd at times—but his dedication to swordsmanship is practically religious. While I spend most of my time on research, he practices day after day. Sometimes he even creates a clone of himself to spar with. He describes it as playing chess against himself—don't ask me how he does it—but it's effective. Darius's swordsmanship is on a completely different level than yours.

He spends his days either sparring against an enhanced me or dueling his own clone, honing his art to a degree even I can't fully grasp."

"Wait… but I sparred with Darius before. We were fairly even," I say, confused. Houston chuckles.

"Picture yourself without emotions, without distractions, without the world. Just you and your sword, in a realm where imagination and dedication can take you as far as you let it. Imagine focusing solely on the blade—no Overdrive, no waves to accelerate your strikes, no fatigue. Do you think that version of 'you' would even compare to the swordsman you are now?" My eyes widen. A life… just for the sword. Was that… Darius? But then…

"So… he went easy on me?"

"I wouldn't call it going easy. Darius's purpose is to teach you, and every single move he makes is for that purpose. Darius is a true swordmaster at this point. He has cleanly surpassed Siddharth. I can't even say with certainty what his current proficiency is—it's difficult to quantify." What the fuck is this…? A version of me became a true swordmaster? Living in my head?

"Anyway," Houston continues, "don't overthink it. Comparing yourself to Darius makes no sense. You can't live for the sword. You have too many other things to focus on—your battles, physical body, EM waves, your equipment, and natural human emotions. Be grateful instead. Darius has trained this way for your sake, to teach you, to make you stronger, just like I have on my side." I nod slowly, determination settling on my face.

"That's all for now. We'll meet after the spars to go over the next training phases," Houston says, and before I can even say goodbye, he suddenly disappears. I'm left standing alone for a brief moment, but then I sense a presence behind me. Turning, I see Darius. He's wearing the same primal-looking attire from last time. His naturally fierce gaze softens slightly as he locks eyes with me, and a casual smile graces his face.

While nothing about him seems outwardly different, the way I perceive him now has shifted entirely. My eyes are filled with newfound respect, even admiration. Darius might not fully fit the definition of a human, but his dedication, his single-minded pursuit of mastery for my sake, demands reverence. I bow my head slightly.

"I'll be in your care… master," I say, a smile tugging at my lips, half-joking, half-serious.

"Master, huh?" Darius replies, his tone calm and distinctly different from Houston's.

"I wouldn't dare claim such a title." His smile deepens as he tilts his head slightly.

"So, ready?" I nod, my resolve firm.

"Ready." Suddenly, the surroundings blur, and we reappear in the arena. The sight stirs memories from last time. Without hesitation, I conjure a replica of my sword in my hand, the weight familiar, comforting. Darius stands calm on the opposite side, his posture relaxed but poised. His stance mirrors mine—nothing flashy, no openings I can exploit, yet nothing that screams of the swordmaster Houston spoke of. We lock eyes. It's on.

I rush forward, my steps measured, closing the distance but stopping just outside his range. Circling him, I keep my sword ready, studying every movement, every subtle shift in his position. He doesn't follow my lead but remains still, his eyes tracking me with a quiet intensity. I feint left, testing his reaction, but he doesn't take the bait. I lunge forward, slashing horizontally, and Darius steps back, his blade intercepting mine with a loud clang.

He counters immediately with a thrust aimed at my midsection, but I disengage, twisting to the side and attempting a low kick to disrupt his balance. He anticipates, lifting his leg slightly to avoid it, and responds with a quick upward slash that skims just past my shoulder as I retreat. I push forward again, my sword angled low, aiming for his thigh, but he blocks it with precision, the clash reverberating through my grip. His counter is fast—a downward slash I narrowly deflect, forcing me to backpedal.

Our swords dance in rapid exchanges—slashes, thrusts, feints. I skim his shoulder once, but his response is swift, a shallow cut grazing my arm. Each time I strike, he deflects with just enough force, disengages smoothly, and counters at angles I struggle to predict. Why does it feel like he's matching me exactly? Where's the swordmaster Houston spoke of? Is he holding back? Faking? But… how? Every movement feels so natural, so precise. How can someone fake this level so perfectly?

I shake my head, trying to dismiss the doubts, and refocus. Our blades collide again and again, the metallic clinks echoing in the arena. I lunge, feint, counter—but it feels like chasing a shadow. He's never too fast, never too slow, always one step ahead yet never overwhelming me. We disengage after dozens of exchanges, our swords still raised. I stare at him, searching for answers, but Darius remains calm, composed, that same faint smile on his lips. I know why he's doing this, but… I need to see it.

"Darius," I say, meeting his gaze.

"Can you let me see your real skill?" His smile widens.