The silence of the resting room was a stark, jarring contrast to the chaotic symphony of violence erupting just beyond the reinforced walls.
The Quarterfinals had already started.
He stood in the center of the room, the solitude pressing against his eardrums. His mind was still reeling from the dual shocks of Phoebe's revelation about the Serpent's Gun cult and his own terrifying epiphany regarding the manipulation of his memories. He felt like a man walking on a tightrope over a chasm, only to realize the rope itself was made of smoke.
Then, a sharp buzz against his wrist snapped him back to the immediate present.
Solace raised his left arm. The metallic smart-bracelet, standard issue for all tournament participants, projected a holographic screen into the dim air. The blue light washed over his tired face.
[TOURNAMENT UPDATE: QUARTERFINALS] [CURRENT RANKING: 7th] [MATCH-UP CONFIRMED]
[Bracket C: SOLACE WRIGHT vs. MICHAEL HERN]
Solace stared at the floating letters. The name pulsed rhythmically, mocking him.
"Wow," he whispered, the word dry and brittle. "Just... wow."
"'Survive,' huh?" he murmured, a bitter smile twisting his lips.
If this System was truly designed to protect him... If its only goal was his survival... then why was it tampering with his mind?
Why plant ideas? Why pave over his memories?
The truth of the matter hit him with the force of a physical blow: Solace Wright was not in control of his own reality.
It wasn't that his personality had suddenly changed or evolved naturally. It wasn't just the trauma of transmigration merging Alexander Quill and Solace Wright. It was more insidious. Slowly, methodically, foreign ideas were being grafted onto his consciousness. He was being steered.
"Ah, dammit."
Solace brought his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes until he saw stars. He wanted to scream. He wanted to reach into his own skull and tear out the wires that were puppeteering him. But he couldn't.
He tried to probe the system for more information, but it did not change. They did not answer. They simply floated there, indifferent and divine, offering nothing.
The silence was louder than any answer could have been. It was the silence of a master who does not feel the need to explain himself to his tool.
Sighing at the absurdity of his situation, Solace forced himself to lower his hands. He pushed the existential dread into a mental box and slammed the lid shut. He couldn't afford to unravel now. Not when the arena awaited.
He had to focus on the immediate nightmare.
Michael Hern.
Solace walked over to the water dispenser and poured himself a glass, his hand shaking slightly. He drank it in one gulp, the cold liquid doing little to cool the heat of his anxiety.
Michael Hern was not just an opponent. He was a calamity.
The second son of a High Elder of the Imperial Court.
That title alone carried enough weight to crush a middle-class citizen like Solace. In this world, the Imperial Court was the law, the judge, and the executioner. To offend a Hern was to invite a death sentence that wouldn't be carried out in a duel, but in a dark alley, or through a falsified arrest warrant.
But it wasn't just his political backing that made Michael dangerous. It was the boy himself.
"A psychopath," Solace muttered, crushing the paper cup in his hand.
Michael was the textbook definition of a third-rate villain. He was loud, he was arrogant, and his entire personality revolved around asserting dominance over those he deemed "lesser." He didn't fight for honor; he fought to humiliate.
But the real problem wasn't politics or siblings. It was the matchup.
Michael possessed: Gravity and Darkness.
Gravity. The natural enemy of speed. The natural enemy of precision.
Solace's entire fighting style relied on mobility. He used his Thread of Chains to swing, to pull, to maneuver. He used Glass to misdirect. He used Stillness to interrupt the rhythm.
But how do you swing on a chain when gravity is increased tenfold? How do you dodge when your own body weighs as much as a boulder?
And Darkness...
"He can blind me," Solace realized. "He can cloak his movements. He can crush me against the floor without ever touching me."
Up until an hour ago, Solace had been confident. He had taken down Kang. He had survived Phoebe Frostbane, a literal force of nature. He had secured his spot in the top 8. He had truly believed he could scrape his way into the top 5.
But that was before the fight with Phoebe drained him dry.
His essence reserves were less than half.
And the worst part? The card he had been holding up his sleeve, Cancel had been used.
Solace clenched his fist.
Which meant, for all intents and purposes, Solace was walking into the ring against a Gravity user with nothing but a few rusty chains, a sword he was too tired to lift, and depleted essence reserves.
"I'm going to lose," the thought whispered in his mind.
If he lost, he would lose the family he had found in this world, and no matter what happened, he wasn't going to put his family in danger.
Solace pictured his family, his mother, his father, and his siblings.
"I can't lose," Solace corrected himself. "I don't have the luxury of losing."
He stood up. His legs felt heavy, but his mind began to sharpen. The fear was still there, cold and biting, but he wrapped it in layers of calculation.
He was nearing a breakthrough. It had been more than one month since he woke up.
And since waking up, he had been training relentlessly. He felt that he was on the cusp of a breakthrough; he felt like he needed one last push to have it.
It had been more than three months since he advanced to Layer 2. It was time to take the next step.
Michael's rank was (E). He was a sub-rank higher than Solace. As such, he was stronger by a small margin. It would have been fine if Solace had [Cancel] as he had against Phoebe and Kang. It would have helped him win against Michael. But unfortunately, he did not.
The only chance Solace had was if he had a breakthrough and a plan.
So he began devising a crude plan or an outline.
Gravity has a range. He can't use it on himself. Solace just had to be as close to him as possible.
That leaves darkness. Michael mostly used his dark to blind the enemy to make them helpless and lost, just like he did at the end of the first phase of the tournament.
But Solace just so happened to have the ability to see despite being blind. His sense of existence allowed him to see boundaries of things within a ten-meter radius.....Well, he didn't know what the range was, but it was a modest guess.
But wasn't it funny that every single time an obstacle stood in Solace's way, he just so happened to have the right pieces to survive or defeat the obstacle?
Solace figured his system had some involvement in this. He didn't think for a second that this was a coincidence. To have a counter to one of the most efficient ability Michael possessed was no coincidence.
There were also other things he could take advantage of.
Michael was strong, yes. But he was arrogant. He was a "third-rate villain." And third-rate villains always made the same mistake: they played with their food.
Solace plotted, his eyes narrowing. "He knows I'm a mobility fighter. He'll start by increasing the gravity field to pin me down."
Solace walked over to the mirror on the wall. He looked at his reflection with messy white hair and pale skin.
"If I can't move my body," Solace whispered to his reflection, "then I have to move him."
He checked his belt. His sword was there. His chains were retracted in his soul.
He had no Cancel. He had barely any essence left. He had a headache that felt like a drill boring into his temple.
Solace stepped out into the hallway, the darkness of the tunnel swallowing him.