1

The lion roared from the back of his throat and lunged for them, running at high speed, his mane flapping.

The arena had seemed rather large to him earlier, perhaps because it was just them and the phantom crowd, who were still cheering as if the prospect of witnessing two people defeat a lion or be torn to pieces in the attempt was the most interesting thing that had ever happened to them.

In any case, that feeling disappeared in the blink of an eye.

That thing was fast and its jaws were getting bigger and sharper. Cynthia shot the creature four or five times, he lost count at some point.

That, naturally, would have been enough to tear a normal animal apart.

But this lion didn't even react. He'd say the bullets went right through him, but that wouldn't be entirely true. They just disappeared. If they had come out the other side, he would have seen them without fail.

When the lion reached them, biting and waving its claws, Cynthia quickly backed up with her rope launcher, pinning it to a wall and propelling herself toward it.

Sylvester did that too, more or less.

He backed up against and through some bars, just at the moment when he thought he was between a rock and a hard place. Because of this, the lion bit through the steel bars instead of his neck. By the skin of his teeth.

"I think we have to defeat him."

"Ah, you don't say?"

"Listen to me. Whether that's because that's what really happened or because Madison failed in real life, we have to beat him to get through. The lion is the way out."

It had a certain logic to it.

A stupid logic, of dreams and insecurities, so the right one.

"Here. Kitty, kitty, kitty," Cynthia said, teasing, almost singing.

Trying to distract the lion so he could attack from behind? That is, what had worked before? Although he hadn't had her help then, and actually, the situation was quite different, not only in that.

Anyway.

Why fix what wasn't broken? It was worth a try.

The lion changed his target, perhaps because of Cynthia's provocations, perhaps because he had given up on tearing down the iron bars, or possibly a combination of the two.

In any case, he lunged after his companion. She kept firing, not having to worry about it even overheating (reloading wasn't a concern even in the real world, that was a thing of the past), she wouldn't have to unless she realized it was strange.

But it wasn't like it was doing any good anyway.

The bullets simply went right through that beast as if it wasn't there. In a way, that was true. The lion wasn't there. It had probably died by now, either of old age or after being slaughtered once the fun was over. It was just a memory of the past, so then....

Sylvester acted fast.

Leaping on top of the lion, plunging the sword between his ribs and into his heart.

Or so it seemed, but in reality it did absolutely nothing to him. His boots had found the lion solid, but his sword couldn't cut him. Cynthia's bullets were also useless, although with those revolvers loaded with overpowered ammunition she would have stood a chance against a tank.

Was it impossible to damage, let alone kill the beast? Was that not what it was all about? Had he misunderstood that they had to fight? Or...?

The beast lunged at him, somersaulted backwards and extended his claws. Sylvester couldn't dodge in time, even though he had seen it coming from a distance. The sharp claws tore a sleeve of his expensive suit (he had to remind himself that it was perfectly fine out there in the real world) and also the skin underneath.

Blood flowed unnaturally, like water spat out of a sprinkler. Sylvester took a few more steps back and stared at the blood gushing from his arm, thoughtfully.

Meanwhile, the phantom crowd couldn't stand it any more.

"We didn't come here to see this!"

"I thought watching two animals fighting would be more fun."

"He's barely started and it looks like he's had enough."

"I don't know which one of them should be in a cage."

And more and more and more. There was no end to it. Sylvester would have to turn a deaf ear or they would eventually make him lose his concentration at a critical moment. Most importantly, he now had an idea.

Maybe not a good one, but he wasn't hearing any alternatives.

Sylvester jumped off the lion's back. His attack didn't even manage to bring the beast's attention back to him, he kept going after Cynthia. That was exactly why it was going to be a bit difficult for her to listen to his orders, follow his idea. Anyway.

"Put away your weapons!" Sylvester shouted, wasting no time. That is, he returned the katana to the scabbard.

Cynthia stood for about half a second, with both revolvers raised and fingers on the trigger. Then she kept firing at the beast that wanted nothing more than to feast on her guts and would soon be upon her.

Naturally, but still Sylvester sighed.

He would have to set an example, first of all.

Sylvester threw himself on top of the lion again and, a second before his claws reached his partner's neck, he squeezed. This he did notice. He stood up and began to thrash around, trying to shake him off.

"We have to beat him, but.... This memory has certain rules! Ryan didn't enter the ring with weapons!"

That's why they wouldn't get out of here until they broke the king of the jungle with their bare hands. Literally, without further help. If only it were as easy to do that as it was to say it.

It was only a matter of time, but in the end the lion managed to shake him off with all that wiggling, squirming and jumping, which was still bad. Sylvester hit the ground and kept rolling forward like a sack of garbage. His roars were digging deep into him, he literally felt like his head was going to explode.

Like giant hands were squeezing and squeezing.

The lion leapt after him, but Cynthia intercepted him by giving him a flying double kick. One of her boots sank into the animal's side. The other hit him squarely in the head. The lion went flying. He growled, more in rage than pain, as he writhed on the ground, trying to get back on his feet.

His partner had finally listened to him. Good. Sylvester sat up.

Although lionesses were the ones who hunted, still, it was going to be difficult to handle that beast barehanded, so it was worth trying one of his various skills.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Spending PM, that is, magic points, Sylvester hit the ground.

Energy was born at the point of impact. It traveled underground towards the lion. A mass of darkness emerged explosively from the ground and made an attempt to engulf the enemy.... But it was useless.

His ability simply passed through the creature, as had his katana and Cynthia's bullets.

This memory had very clear and strict rules.

He couldn't help but notice that his PM hadn't actually dropped.

It made sense. They were inside Ryan's mind, so he hadn't actually used that skill, just as he hadn't actually unsheathed the katana. In the real world, their bodies were completely still in the chairs.

It should be something to be happy about, but what was the point?

Even if he could use as many skills as he wanted for as long as he wanted, none of them would affect the lion.

"Boss? Boss, what are you doing?"

Things had changed so much so fast.

Cynthia was on the ground, with the lion looming over her. The only reason it hadn't ripped anything out of her yet was that she was holding his jaws open and away from her with her hands.

She wouldn't last much longer in such an unfavorable position, where the lion barely had to exert any force, while she had to give her all just to keep him at bay, let alone get him off her, that would be quite impossible.

"Boss, this thing is going to tear my head off, damn it!

She was exaggerating, but he would let it go. With that thing on her, even three or four seconds had to feel like an eternity. Real or not.

He was real enough to kill them if they got careless, after all.

Sylvester rushed over. He grabbed the tail with both hands and pulled back. His monstrous strength allowed him to get that creature off his partner's back. At last, she would be thinking, surely.

Cynthia hurried away. She didn't stand up, didn't even waste time on that. She just crawled backwards.

"You could have hurried more, but thanks, boss."

"You're welcome."

Sylvester planted his feet firmly on the ground. The ground filled with cracks. He didn't even arch an eyebrow, as something like this could have happened in the real world as well. He looked for grip on the creature's torso, not just its tail.

Leaning on those points, he threw strength and managed to suplex the damn creature. He felt a rush as he realized what he had just done. It was definitely a story worth telling. Well, this was all confidential, but....

But nothing.

He ran a hand across his forehead. The suplex, of course, had accomplished nothing beyond returning the animal to the ground. Giving them a few seconds of time to regroup and prepare. If only it had been that easy, but even his monstrous strength, apparently, hadn't been enough to leave him incapacitated with that alone.

The lion charged again.

Instinctively, Sylvester unsheathed the katana in a tenth of a second and used it to parry the attack. Or so he thought would happen for a moment. Of course, in reality the claws went through the blade as if it wasn't there and sank into his chest.

"Boss!"

The katana slipped through his fingers. He hadn't thrown it, though he would have done that anyway because it was useless, but rather he had dropped it.

Because of the pain and the sudden weakness. Sudden? The animal had torn his chest, he had the cause clear and in front of him.

What a stupid mistake.

2

Outside, in reality, Sylvester's body moved slightly as he coughed several times.

On the third and last time, he coughed up blood.

What was happening in there was real, in a way. You could pour water on a blindfolded person's wrists, telling them it was their own blood, that their veins had been cut and they were running out of time, and they would die. Something didn't have to be real to kill you.

3

In the world inside Ryan's mind, Sylvester was still fighting, naturally.

It wouldn't have mattered if he dropped his katana, even if it hadn't been useless to him. His entire body was a weapon. It had nothing to do with his cybernetic enhancements or his mysterious powers, he had simply been born a warrior. He would fight until the world was in ruins and even then he would continue on the ruins of the world until a monster finally managed to kill him.

The thumbs. Sylvester placed his thumbs over the beast's eyes and pressed inward. With claws sunk into his chest, churning his insides, he couldn't escape so easily. But he didn't even try.

He wasn't a real animal and didn't have anything resembling a survival instinct. Rather, he seemed to enjoy his pain. Even blind, or at least it should be, he did nothing but stir the claws in his gut. Not a thought of trying to escape despite his approaching death. He had never been alive, but...

What difference did it make? Sylvester pushed his thumbs deeper and deeper. Digging into that creature, returning the favor. He felt the blood and eye fluids spilling between his fingers. And he felt powerful. More so than when he'd broken the last Lunar Remnant, that bastard Andrew.

Of course. This he had done with his own hands. For the first time. It surprised him, but he realized it was true. He always kept his enemies at the same distance as the length of his katana. But this was him and him alone.

Up close and personal. Primal? Whatever it was.

In any case, when the beast stopped writhing and fell limp, Sylvester was even a little disappointed.

Sylvester ripped the claws from his chest. Before he could release the defeated prey, it began to disappear. However, the ghostly crowd, which had never quite been there, did not. They still had to comment.

"That's better!"

Laughing. They spat that shit out, laughing as if any of this was funny.

"Do you think he's going to die? Those wounds look serious."

"I don't know and I don't care. We paid to watch the fight and it's already over."

Like he had no other purpose in the world, like he was a throwaway. They weren't talking about him, he knew. They were things Ryan had heard, or at least a summary of the feeling, things he'd been through. Still, how could he not be angry that he was treating him as less than human? It was especially hard to rationalize with the high of victory coursing through his veins.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Maybe it was like a signal, maybe it was nothing more than a coincidence. In any case, the voices disappeared along with the ring and everything else. They ended up in a blank space, like an unused canvas. It turned out to be a screen.

A screen where more memories of the target were projected. This time clearer and more direct, even though they were happening so fast and jumbled together. They didn't have to play any role, just watch and absorb it all. Sylvester saw nothing he hadn't already imagined.

There wasn't many reasons why someone would end up in an underground wrestling ring, staking their life against a lion for a few hundred dollars. He felt no sympathy for the target at all. Life had not dealt him a good hand, but it had been his decision to lead that life in the end. Excuses like that didn't work on him.

Sylvester just thought it was a shame how easily essentially decent human beings succumbed to evil and madness. A few bad months had been enough to turn him into a criminal, digging a hole so deep he couldn't escape.

It was impossible now. Maybe not before, but now that he had ended up in the sights of the syndicate, it was definitely hopeless.

From that flood of memories he drew only one useful thing. He didn't know the nature of Andrew's work. That was something he could use. Andrew was dead, the job was over, but the cleanup crews needed information.

"What now?" Cynthia asked. You could see it in her eyes that she really wanted to ask a different question. Like why wasn't he panicking about what that thing had done to him.

"Now nothing. I've seen everything I need to see. See you on the other side."

Sylvester put an end to this trip. He grabbed the helmet with both hands and pulled it off his head. He could feel the aftertaste of blood. Not that he had any internal injuries, he had probably just bitten his tongue when that happened.

He dropped the helmet on the table. Neither the prisoner nor Cynthia woke up, not yet. He reached over to his partner and pulled her out of it, removing the helmet.

"How can I do that?"

"It doesn't matter. You're not going to be allowed to do this without me. Not so soon, at least."

"I'd like to know anyway."

"You just have to focus. It takes practice."

"Yeah." She stood up. "That didn't clear anything up for me, but thanks, boss."

Finally, Sylvester disconnected Ryan from the machine.

"I didn't think I'd open my eyes again. What have you been doing to me?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that we need to talk."

"About what?"

"A lot of things. That will determine if you still have a future."

Ryan looked back at him suspiciously. Naturally, he would think he was using the hope of survival as a bait. In a way, he was. He didn't really care if he lived or died, but the final decision was out of his hands.

"Okay. Shoot," Ryan said, clearly with a double meaning, taunting him.

It wasn't a great start. For him. Sylvester already had what he needed, more or less.

As he'd said, he wouldn't mind letting him live, but that was it. He wasn't going to go out of his way to accomplish it or anything.

4

"I didn't know, I swear I didn't know!"

He broke down very quickly.

It was even easier than he had expected.

Ryan had killed and stolen plenty. He had shown himself willing to do whatever it took to get ahead. But, like most, he seemed to believe that hurting children was a special kind of crime. A line that should never be crossed.

Those who killed or raped children didn't usually last long in prison. Not without solitary confinement measures, as the prisoners themselves would dole out justice.

If only he had killed or raped them, however. The truth was much more horrible.

"My God, what have I done?"

He could understand the prisoner's reaction. Also because his partner looked like she was holding back the urge to vomit by sheer miracle. Even he, who had been forced to fight those abominations when his power awakened, had never seen anything like it. But ignorance was no excuse. What was done was done. That was the only reality.

"This isn't about begging for your life," Sylvester said.

"My life? My life?" Ryan laughed. "I don't deserve to live. Nor do I want to, after this. Not with this on my conscience. But I can fix it. You have to let me do it. And then do whatever you want to me, but kill me."

Ryan and Sylvester looked at each other intently for a while, in silence. He was exactly the man he thought he would be. Which meant someone easy to manipulate. He was already completely trapped.

"Welcome to the team," Sylvester said at last. "Though your stay will be brief."