Bang!

The blazing spotlight instantly hit the passageway.

The light illuminated John's stumbling figure, and his arm raised to shield against the intense light, with his prosthetic eye flickering like it was malfunctioning.

His every expression and movement were magnified dozens of times, projected onto screens of all sizes throughout the arena, causing a lot of discussion and screams.

"Oh, looks like our newcomer isn't in great shape. Maybe he partied too hard, or just crawled out of a beauty's bed... The gamblers hoping for a big upset are going to be disappointed! Hahaha!"

The host mercilessly mocked, stirring up even more heated discussions. Amidst the background noise, more boos and even vicious curses emerged.

John quickly steadied himself.

The world before his eyes became clear again.

Messiah's Eye switched to combat mode.

Sora filtered out the data flow, but John could still sense their presence.

The temperature of the entire venue, the space, the crowd size, the dimensions of the octagonal cage, even the taunts and contempt in the audience's voices became starkly clear.

It was a sensory impact he had never experienced before, peculiar, cold, absolutely objective.

If this was a hallucinogenic reaction that could be manufactured into an illicit drug, it would definitely be lauded by the digital crowd's cold bastards if thrown into the market.

But now, John only felt uncomfortable all over.

An emotion called "nervous" rose in his chest, not fueled by primitive hormones, rather like a complex mechanical structure operating precisely, trying to piece together a simulated human emotion.

John took a deep breath, showing a fierce expression.

"Say another word, and I'll jump up there and tear your mouth apart."

He flipped the finger at a few rows of nearby seats. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Reality overlapped with memory.

In the storyline revealed by the Black Light, this position should have seated friends and opponents John met during street matches.

Now.

There were only some irritable gamblers.

Perhaps they believed the rumors, pinning their hopes of overturning debts on the ludicrously high odds, and upon seeing John's state, erupted with even more immense disappointment and hatred.

John wasn't about to pamper them; to the nearest rounds of boos, he responded by raising his hand to all of them!

Then he quietly comforted Kenichi Sora.

"Ignore those idiots, focus on what's in front, adjust your state, your only task today is to take down that fool on the ring, or simpler, just don't let him kill me!"

[I understand, brother, actually I'm fine now, this feeling is really different... The real ring is similar to all the games I've encountered, yet completely different, do you understand?]

"Are you still nervous?"

[More excited! I can't describe it. It's a holographic, multi-dimensional, three-dimensional experience. It's a reality that a virtual space can never simulate!]

"Sounds nice, wanna take over?"

[...]

The chip started to heat up.

Data transmission became intermittent again.

John had to abandon the thought, silently cursing in his heart—useless drifting AI!

The host was stirring up emotion.

"...Maybe give him a chance, he can bring us some surprises, but unfortunately, behold, his opponent is our old friend—Crocodile, Reagan Patrick!"

The audience also erupted in meaningless cheers, converging at the dome, turning into pressure, lowering bit by bit.

The spotlight turned direction, focusing, cutting through the fence, converging in the center of the field.

John felt an invisible urging.

He briskly walked through the garbage advertisement convergence marks, jumped onto the ring, immediately feeling an unusual, muffled vibration, and an adrenaline and cortisol seeped through his heated skin.

Those chemical elements were visibly real, just floating at the edge of his vision.

There were minute component names and real-time changing ratios, mixed in with more data.

This is the AI world.

John frowned, shaking his head, speaking low. "Filter out the trash, it's almost blinding me!"

[Okay, uh, be careful.]

"Damn it... you had to say?"

John's brows furrowed, his skin heated, ever since stepping into the ring, his eyes hadn't moved away from his opponent. Before the massive threat, the host and audience's clamor was all left behind.

The electronic fence began to rise from all around, like a deep-sea monster slowly closing its jaws.

The lights dimmed and then brightened.

Thin lights, like spears, stabbed downward from overhead, making the scalp tingle and the body itch painfully.

[Task objectives updated]

[Survive the first round. (Not Achieved)]

[Defeat Crocodile. (Optional)]

Opposite.

The champion seed "Crocodile."

Reagan Patrick.

He stood silently like a tank made of steel and muscle, in his corner, tiny pupils, unblinking eyelids, wearing a face of indifference towards John's position, as if evaluating a piece of meat about to be dissected.

The fence closed shut.

The bell rang.

Crocodile showed no hesitation, like an automated turret, instantly locking onto John's position, then firing, the bullet being himself.

No probing.

No words.

Only the professionalism and absolute destructive power accumulated from career fights.

Crocodile's hydraulic fist was raised, both for defense and for a powerful strike, closing the distance in an instant, the whistling wind of the fist and sweat falling off the deceleration were crystal clear.

John froze.

He felt a tight scalp, a series of never-before-seen new data popped in his mind, like fine strings threading through the eardrum throughout the scalp.