[https://i.imgur.com/7uSYjVx.png]

Mike takes a fighting stance with his fists in front of his chest and starts closing distance from me. While he is doing the usual fighter’s movement of leading slowly with his toe, I instead leave my hands at my sides and in a relaxed manner walk towards him. Though it might seem I am being careless, I try to walk in such a way that my feet are always close to the ground and am capable of changing stances at any time. Since one of my feet is always a millimeter off the ground, I can imagine this being some martial arts technique, but I just made it up on the spot and implemented it so I do not know its name.

Can I do this?

As I take my steps forward I size up Mike again. It is intimidating. The body I have now might be far better than the one I had before. If I were fighting a regular human back on Earth even if it is a man, I’d have no trouble overpowering him. But Mike has a body of similar quality as me, but 60% more mass. It is no joke. His arm is so thick it looks like it would take my head clean off if it connected properly. Meanwhile, I have slender girly arms, unfit for combat.

I wish I had a gun or a knife to even out the odds.

But there is no point in that. I choose beauty over brawn consciously. It is not this body that makes me dangerous to others, but my mind. The mind I have cultivated for 45 million years in that desert through the games of chance is my knife and my gun. I can only rely on my mind. I will bet it all once more and die if need be!

So what if he breaks me in half? I will keep going forward!

I prepare myself for death and go into striking range.

Mike raises one of his legs and prepares for a kick. 10 million fold speed, a single second is almost 4 months in the game. I have more than enough to think and infer what he is going to do and prepare my own response. Whereas a human would need to act reflexively or get hit, I first take the time to consider his posture, his gaze and his momentum. I conclude that it is going to be a high kick.

Once I get a feel for the opponent's attack, I do not hesitate and go into a counter. First I duck forward so that no matter what happens, the high kick does not strike my head. Then from a safe position, I kick out with my leg at his groin.

Just like with Largo, I only hit muscle rather than the symbols of masculinity. It is just as I thought.

Nobody going into a serious fight would bring ‘those’ with him. I need to be more observant and infer if they have ‘them’ instead of bluntly checking like this, but that should be effortless once I upgrade my eyes to my custom designed ones.

Unlike my jab against Largo, I put my whole body into this kick. I am impressed by my own power. Mike gets blown backwards and skedaddles several steps before hitting the fence and grabbing it to prevent himself from falling over. If it wasn’t for the fence, he would have fallen over. Oh well. I should have aimed higher, had I struck his checks or chin it is likely I would have been on the floor instead.

But I wasn’t confident about making such an acrobatic move from such a difficult position. I’ll try it next time if I get the chance. I am just not used to this body yet.

I wonder if maybe Largo forgot the rule against grabbing the fence, but he is not saying anything so the game will go on. Since I am the one being tested, I do not want to follow my opponent near the fence where he can easily grab it and prevent himself from falling. Instead I take a few steps back behind the middle of the ring and wait for him to come up to me again.

Mike collects his bearings and inches up to me. I await him with my hands down at my sides.

He snaps into action and raises his right leg again. I can see it all in extreme slow motion. His intentions and the intended attack are transparent to me. This time it will be a round kick into my side. I move to counter the attack. Once again I duck forward and bash his upcoming knee with my elbow. Then having neutralized the attack and having unbalanced my opponent I smoothly transition into my next attack. Using the momentum from the block, I take a step forward and execute a double handed palm strike at his face with my whole body behind it. Wholly unprepared to receive it, he flies into the air and lands on his back.

Yes! I grin in satisfaction, and look at Largo.

“Euclid wins. How are you doing Mike?”

“Uh…” He looks like he is seeing stars. Slowly, gets up to his feet. “What the hell was that? That walk and those counters, you definitely have martial arts experience.”

“I don’t.” I shake my head. ”It is just that where I came from, it is common to optimize our reaction times.”

“She gets a pass from me, Largo. In fact, I had already lost when I touched the fence. Largo forgot to mention the rule.” He admitted. “I am not really satisfied just yet. How about it, Euclid? Want to go a few more rounds with me?”

[Pathos Check DC 1.7 Succeeded - Sampled 3.08]

“Sure, I’d love to. Rejuvenate me, Largo.” I do not see anything happening, but Mike replies. “Yeah, I am at 100% again. Ready.” Mike looks at Largo, urging him to begin.

“Fighters, go to your starting positions.” Largo orders.

I do as instructed and face Mike again.

Compared to the first time, he feels a lot less imposing. If he grabs me or manages to land a hit, I’ll be in trouble, but I can’t see him being capable of that anymore. He doesn’t have the processing capability to go toe to toe with me. It feels like he is telegraphing all his attacks ahead of time.

“3, 2, 1. Start!”

We move towards the center. Probably the scariest thing he could do here is to crouch down and try to tackle me. If he does a mid tackle, I’ll knee him in the face. If he does a high tackle, I’ll crouch down and toss him over my shoulder. If he does a guarded low tackle I’ll strike the base of his neck with my elbow and shatter his spine or do an ax kick.

Mike rushes in, but it is not a tackle. He clenches his fists and I hold myself steady. If I panic and make an unnecessary move I’ll surely lose. He makes an instep and at once I understand what his attack will be, a live punch to my side. I make my counter. First like handling a child, I stretch out my hand to meet the attack and negate its momentum. Then I cross his forward leg with my opposite one and deliver a hammer blow to the side of his head.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The quick, efficiently executed attack drops him like a sack.

Respectfully I take a few steps back and go back to my corner. It takes him a while to get up, and on his request, Largo rejuvenates him again.

We go for another round. Having had enough of wide swings, Mike tries straight jabs, but I see them coming from a mile away, and parry them while throwing a punch with the other. After 3 blows he became dazed and I took the opportunity to hit him with an uppercut. After which he looked close to crumpling, so I attacked him with a flurry of blows using his head as a punching bag before blowing him back with a full force cross. My heart beating wildly, I breathe deeply and weave all the strength of my new body into that attack, and feel a resounding tremor as my fist connects with his face.

My fists are stinging after that exchange, especially my right one, but seeing my opponent on the floor like that fills me with satisfaction. He is bleeding from nose, and some of it got on my dress from that last strike. It is a good color.

“Ouhhh…” Mike groans on the floor. I patiently wait for him to come out of his daze.

“I’ll rejuvenate him.” This time I can see Mike’s bruises disappearing. “You too.”

My heart, which had been making a racket calms down, and I see the cuts on my fists from the harsh strikes disappear. The stinging is gone as well.

“Want to go for another round?” I lean down and offer Mike, who is still on the floor, a hand. He takes it and I pull him up firmly.

“No, I am no match for you.” He shakes his head sadly. “You’ve been cool this entire fight, you haven’t even broken a sweat.”

“Nonsense, I was very scared the entire time.” I smile at him encouragingly which causes him to blush a bit. I release my hand and look at Largo.

“What is the next test?”

(Heaven’s Key, Morty’s Domain, Sword Dueling Arena)

[https://i.imgur.com/uOHUQnO.png]

Mike lost his confidence, and another guy called Lorenzo was called up to administer the next test. He had a somewhat of an Italian lover look. Dark, long hair and mustache, chiseled face, cut body. Parts of his bare hairy chest peeked out beneath the tight silky clothing. He reminded me somewhat of a mosquetir.

Except instead of a rapier he had a brutal looking combat knife in his hand. There was one in my hand as well. Unlike the octagon ring, this arena was square and the floor was solid stone. Landing hard on this could easily kill a person. It had no fence, and jumping out would be enough to forfeit the match. It wasn’t square or octagonal, but what you’d get if you filled a circle with squares.

[https://i.imgur.com/vQTPFSM.png]

“Senorita, en guard!” Ahahahahaha! I kept a cool face, but on the inside I laughed at his theatrics. In truth, I was enjoying it. I like this guy.

“The rules are as follows: Upper body touching the floor is a fail. Touching the floor outside the arena is a fail. And lastly, this is a knife fight, so dropping the weapon on the floor is a fail. There are no restrictions on kicks, punches or locks, the only weapon allowed is the one I provided to you.” Largo explained tersely.

“Fighters, go to your starting positions.” Me and Lorenzo did as instructed.

I turned to him and threw a brief glance at his crotch.

[Externus Check DC 2.5 Failed - Sampled 2.28]

At that point I realized I was in deep shit. Not because of Lorenzo, he is just another scrub most likely. But because of the original who has to make the decision to accept me the way I am now. It won’t be good. I keep wondering about masculinity. I became a being of depravity, and I gave up my masculinity to do it. I regret it and the proof of that is those needless crotch shots against Mike and Largo. How can I convince the original if I can’t possibly convince myself?

I said I gave up my masculinity, but that is not true. It is more like I tried to keep on to it, but all the beatings dislodged it from me. Just how many times did I have to sacrifice myself for the sake of self improvement in that endless desert game? Just how many times have I given up and accepted death? I pursued power with everything I had, but then came the simulations against opponents I couldn’t beat. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, I’d lose and expire. The failures became carved into my soul.

Then I finally emerged from the desert, and with my great mind concluded that upper body muscles as well as external organs aren’t necessary. It is not wrong to think this way. That is why the blow was so effective at dislodging it.

But sacrificing yourself for the sake of your future self cannot be called masculine to begin with. It might be called rational, but rationality is not the same thing as masculinity.

I realize what I must do to properly win before I emerge yet again. Thinking of myself as just wearing a shell is not the right way. That would be falling into the same trap of drawing lines between yourself and your programs, between yourself and your external cortex.

If a person can have an external brain, why couldn’t his masculinity be externalized as well?

[https://i.imgur.com/RlScceN.png]

I raise my wicked knife with the spiked handguard in front of me, and see my beautiful face and almond doe eyes reflected back at me.

“3, 2, 1. Start!” Largo announces. Me and Lorenzo start moving forward. He takes a stance with his empty hand leading in front and his knife hand safe at the back where a surprise kick couldn’t knock the weapon out of it. I imitate him. With short steps towards the center, we close the distance between each other.

Yeah, I was wrong. It is wrong to say that in the future I want to become a weaponized sphere. I should obviously be the cure and funny me. Rather the sphere needs to become my symbol of masculinity.

I feel the cool plastic wrapping of the hilt, as my hand grips the combat knife. It feels reliable and steady, sharp and deadly, ready to take a life.

This weapon right here is the only penis I need right now!

We come into striking range. Whereas in the previous matches I waited for my opponent to strike before delivering a devastating counter, this time I decided to just believe the deadly blade in my hand. I courageously step in to where Lorenzo could make a quick stab against me and combine it with the motion of slashing my blade across his eyes.

Lorenzo sees it coming and leans backwards to avoid the blade. The blade passes through the air in front of him, never touching him. But ultimately, he is just a human. The dodge made on reflex leans back a little too far, wasting too much movement.

If it were me, I’d time the dodge so I don’t leave the tiniest hair’s length away from the blade and move into the attack immediately. But Lorenzo leaned back too early, and an inch and a half too far. That created a delay of two tenths of a second, more than enough for my kick to plunge into his abdomen as he is sticking it out.

He doubled over, and next to him, the blade he was holding clacks on the stone floor.

“Euclid wins!” Largo announces.

Coolly looking down at Lorenzo who is gasping for breath, I decide it. My original is the only one I need to accept me. I am going to show him that the path of divine seduction is not about throwing away your masculinity, but externalizing it.

This blade…I raise it in front of me and check out my reflection once again. This wicked, curved, pointy blade is the answer that I sought to the question of manliness. Can you see it, original? Do you see it through my memories? I will convince you.

I spin the blade around and holster it into the sheath around my belt. I look at Largo for what the next test is.

Lorenzo wanted to try again, and I obliged him.

We met in the middle of the arena as before. His well built body tensed, and a blow exploded straight towards my face. The cruel looking dagger went exactly for my left eye. It is at this point, I realized the unique possibility of these weapons and did a piercing parry.

Lorenzo’s look of quiet confidence crumbled.

His arm was stretched out towards me, but the dagger had missed my head without me moving it. Stabbed into his forearm, slightly below the wrist was my own dagger. It pierced straight through to the other side.

“Drop it, senor.” I gave him a warning and he yielded, letting go of the knife. It clacked on the stone floor. While that was happening, I cleanly and skillfully drew out my own blade without unduly enlarging his wound.

“Sorry about that, senor.” Blade in my backhand, I did a curtsy.

“You are good with the knife, ehej!” He grinned, professional enough to ignore the wound. ”She gets a pass from me, Largo. Let’s just skip the swords, I’ll get sliced in half.” He said in a faux Italian accent.

“What is next?” Twirling the blade around my finger, I ask Largo. He shrugged.

“I guess we’ll go to the shooting range then.”