Ronin heaved for breath as the eerie silence filled the compound. The men watching the arena from along the gangways simply stared at him, stupefied. For the hundred thousand watching men to keep quiet for even a second was a miracle, but what had happened here — was simply too absurd. Ronin looked up at the railing along the upper section of the compound where most of the guards stood. At least they weren't pointing their guns at him.

  “Remind me never to mess with that guy,” a voice from the surrounding crowd said, finally breaking the silence.

  “Yeah, did you see what he did to that short fellow? He used him as a weapon!” Someone besides him spoke.

  As was inevitable when over a hundred thousand people were packed together in a room, the air once again began buzzing. Gruff grunts and harsh laughs intermixed with the noise one would expect from a prison, and Ronin let out a breath in relief. He didn't mind attention, but considering the alien artifact and the situation he was in, this was a matter of life and death.

  He stumbled out of the arena, then inspected his injuries.

  Besides the older laser burn to his left thigh, his legs seemed fine. His upper body however, had suffered quite the punishment. There were bruises everywhere and he’d been cut in several places. Most of his wounds were shallow — that is, except one rather deep cut to his abdomen. To stop the bleeding, he tore off a part of his white prison shirt, then tied it around his waist.

  Inmates that fought in the arena didn’t get special treatment. Presumably, the guards expected the nanites to do the healing, and if that wasn’t enough, the inmates would just have to toughen it out themselves.

  Whilst sagging his feet, Ronin began the climb back up to his cell. Everywhere he walked now, a wide path opened up before him. The moment he got close, the prisoners just moved out of the way, averting their gaze so as to not make eye contact. Step after step, he slogged his way up the stairs, passing hundreds of inmates.

  “Monster,” someone whispered.

  “Not human,” he heard someone else say.

  The words were spoken in low voices, and were likely not meant for his ears.

  It's better this way… Ronin thought.

  If the choice was between being called a monster and being seen as a juicy bounty, he’d be the monster every time.

  As he reached his cell, Ronin was immediately met by his, now, four frightened cellmates

  “Listen,” he began. “Marvin and that other guy tried to kill me. I meant what I said earlier. If you mean no harm, there is no danger. I’m the same man I was yesterday.”

  It did seem to ease them — a little.

  “But how did you get so strong?” The partly bionic cellmate asked, nervously rubbing his metal leg.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Ronin said, walking over to his bunk. “Are you thinking of bionic enhancements? Let’s just say I’m all natural for now.”

  “Wait, don’t tell me you've actually found someone willing to perform genetic editing?” The half-machine followed up, not even bothering to hide his greed.

  “Don’t mention this again,” Ronin replied curtly. “You all know how the government treats people that have altered themselves genetically.”

  It seemed his cellmates believed his abnormal strength came from artificial enhancements. And... well, they weren’t entirely wrong; the alien artifact most definitely wasn’t natural — but what could he say?

  Hey guys, I’ve been doing some alien doping. I know aliens are one of the most dangerous things in the universe but hear me out.

  No. Better to let them believe it was something else.

  “Anyways, let's talk more tomorrow, alright? I’ve just fought over 50 people,” Ronin finished, then slumped down on the bunk.

  A little dizzy from blood-loss, he looked at the white blankets under him. They were now turning red from the blood he'd been bathed in; most of that blood wasn't even his. He next looked at the iron-bars separating the top-, and bottom bunk, then at his cellmates beyond.

  I killed over 30 people today, he thought.

  He should have felt bad about that... In fact, there were a lot of things he should feel; a lot of things he should care about, but he didn't — not anymore.

  How long before I kill my remaining cellmates? And if I ever get out, how long before I do something unforgivable to my friends and family?

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  Ronin knew he was changing, and he was changing in ways that went beyond both the alien subconscious influence and his new hunger for battle. This day only made that clearer. No, to remain himself — and without a virtual reality game to help him — his only option now was the Potentia Panorama.

  An alien solution to an alien problem, he mused.

  He'd tried this before, but the Kalvrakian embrace was a technique which focused on the body, not the mind.

  Those new gates he'd found though... now they were something different.

  Ronin then closed his eyes and entered his mind palace.

  He began to walk along the familiar cracked corridors of the mental spaceship, pondering. He would really need to fix this place soon. Repairing 10% of the damage here had already cleared up a lot of the brain fog he was experiencing. Currently, his mind was about where it had been before absorbing the alien artifact, but how clear would his mind be if he fully fixed this place?

  He turned another corner, arriving before the gate he’d chosen.

  Out of the two gates relating to the mind, he’d picked the larger one. Although the smaller of the two gates was probably easier to open, Ronin needed concrete results. If he could raise his mental resilience with this larger gate, it might be just the variable he needed.

  He placed his hands on the gate.

  Every second I delay is another second I change. It’s time to fight back.

  He readied himself, flexing his mental muscles as he focused on the tall fractal structure before him:

  Here goes nothing, he thought, then pushed!

  Ronin felt the massive structure yield as slowly, the gate began to open. At the same time though… something else began expanding as well. As Ronin pushed, the cracks along his mental palace began widening. Too busy focusing on the gate, he paid it no mind. He dug deep, using all the strength he had, and as the gate passed a certain threshold, he felt it give.

  POOF

  The gate blasted wide open and with it, came not memories this time, but experience…

  “...”

  Sitting on a meditation mat, Ronin — now with four arms and blue skin — gazed at the instructor with fervor.

  “The endless path is a lonely journey,” the instructor said. “Not a single warrior of eternity has not had a mind of steel. Souls break under the weight of truth and the heavens seek for all things to return to origin. How do you defy it?”

  He next saw a golden light spread out from the instructor, touching every member watching the sermon. As the light reached him, Ronin felt it — Rage. Endless rage. But there was something else there as well, something smoldering under the surface. Smaller, yet more powerful, a spirit of indomitability filled him. It was ferocious, it was unyielding, it demanded struggle... it demanded conflict.

  Ronin, along with every other alien in the room, stood up then roared!

  The vision of the instructor then faded as it was replaced by a series of battles:

  Ronin fought insect-like creatures, characterized by thick armor-like carapace. He fought gigantic reptiles. He fought blue-skinned aliens like himself.

  Battle after battle, it kept going. From a few dozen fights, it soon became a hundred. That hundred then turned into a thousand. With every new opponent that appeared, the battle was different, and the opponents grew stronger. He acquired injuries along the way, only for them to be healed with the next opponent he fought. Throughout it all, one thing remained constant.

  The indomitable spirit.

  The technique he’d learned on that meditation mat followed every technique he did, every battle fought, and every emotion felt. Be it in the despair of defeat or in the euphoria of victory, the technique used it all, feeding on it as it became stronger, more real.

  Throughout the endless battles, right at the end, the spirit transformed, turning into tangible figures which stood guard at the alien's mind.

  Battle Soul: A warrior soul made to withstand eternity. This path combines struggle, instinct and will, as well as the warrior's knowledge in battle into mental guardians, protecting the warrior's mind against both external-, and internal threats.

  “...”

  Back in reality, Ronin stood in his mental palace, enraptured by the technique. He'd experienced years of fighting in those memories!

  What an incredibly versatile art! He beamed, looking at the vague figures now covering the edge of his mindscape.

  The more fights he had, the more difficulties he went through, the stronger the battle soul would be. He finally had a way to resist the alien artifact.

  That’s when he felt it — the backlash.

  His mind palace rumbled as the numerous cracks running through it, reached a breaking point. Whatever Ronin had repaired earlier, crumbled and the mind palace began falling apart!

  He groaned in pain. He needed to do something.

  Fumbling for a way to use his new technique, as if by instinct, he mobilized the figures at the edge of his mindscape. From standing guard outside, they rushed into the large mental spaceship, then did their best to hold it together.

  Ronin tried using the indomitable will he’d felt the alien use to strengthen the figures, but the mental guardians didn’t change. The iron-blooded will he’d been shown by the alien, was something that had to be trained. Simply watching someone else go through the process only gave him knowledge, not strength.

  Still, it wasn't as if Ronin had no will of his own.

  As his mind palace crumbled, he used his desire to build ships, to see the stars and to live free as he infused the mental guardians, strengthening them. It was a far cry from what the alien had done, but in contrast to the alien, Ronin had already taken a shortcut, gaining a battle soul far sooner than he should.

  The expanding cracks slowed, encountering more resistance as he used the pain he felt to further fuel his will. Eventually, the ongoing collapse slowed down to a crawl before stopping completely.

  Ronin made a mental sigh. Well, I’m never doing that again.

  Exiting his mind palace, he opened his eyes. It was dark in his cell… too dark. He tried squinting his eyes. Nothing.

  I… Have I gone blind?