Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Mental Realm's Crucible

Sam's body slammed into the water once again, cold rippling through him, numbing the sting of defeat. He felt the weight of every loss like an anchor dragging him under. Five times now, he'd been tossed from the rocky island—five rounds of bruising, bone-rattling combat against Jason Todd, now fully assuming his role as Red Hood. No mercy. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Sam's clothes clung to him like dead weight as he crawled back onto the shore, water cascading off his trembling body. The island, a jagged circle no larger than 100 meters, felt too small, too exposed with Jason's predatory gaze following his every move.

Jason, standing tall on the far side, twirled his wooden stakes between his fingers with the ease of a hunter toying with his prey. The flickering glow of distant flames danced on the surface of the water surrounding the island, hinting at something ominous. Sam gritted his teeth. The mental realm was designed to test him—mind, body, and soul. But Jason wasn't holding back, and Sam knew it.

"You're slipping, Sam," Jason said, his voice cold and clinical, not mocking, but almost bored. "That half-assed defense? I'll shatter more than your pride if you keep leaving yourself open like that."

Sam's muscles screamed in protest as he rose to his feet. Blood trickled from his split lip, and his pulse throbbed in his temples. Every nerve screamed for a break, but there was no rest here. No reprieve. He clenched his fists, narrowing his eyes at Jason. Focus. Redirect. He recalled Jason's earlier lessons—don't fight force with force. Sam's style was supposed to be fluid, adaptable, more about evasion and redirection than the brute aggression Jason embodied.

Taking a deep breath, Sam surged forward, his soaked boots splashing against the wet rock. Jason moved to meet him, a swift, lethal swipe of the stake aimed at Sam's ribs. Sam pivoted, barely slipping past the strike, and caught Jason's wrist. He twisted, using Jason's momentum to try and throw him off balance, but Red Hood was an immovable object. Jason's response was a quick, brutal backhand that caught Sam across the face, sending him sprawling.

Get up, get up, Sam urged himself as the world spun around him, stars dancing across his vision. Before he could fully recover, Jason was on him. The stakes slammed down, again and again, forcing Sam to raise his arms in defense. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each blow felt heavier, more punishing than the last. Sam's bones rattled under the assault, his guard crumbling.

Jason growled, irritation bleeding into his tone. "You're still too slow! You're hesitating. Katherine baited you with a bluff, and you fell for it. You gave her everything without even realizing it."

Rolling to the side, Sam barely escaped the final downward strike that would've pinned him to the ground. Gasping for breath, he scrambled to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth. Jason stood over him, stakes clicking together as he adjusted his grip, eyes cold and calculating.

"You think she actually believed you knew where Michael is?" Jason continued, his words biting. "No. She played you. Now she's interested in something she didn't even care about before—you. And she's going to want to know why."

Sam inhaled deeply, the air thick with tension and the scent of brimstone. The flames around the island flared higher, casting eerie shadows on Jason's face. The guilt gnawed at him. He had cracked under pressure. Katherine's bluff had worked, and now she had more leverage than ever.

"I know," Sam spat, frustration boiling over. "But she's going to dig deeper. If I don't give her something soon, she'll catch on. How do we handle this without making it worse?"

Jason didn't answer. He moved. Fast. A blur of motion as he lunged at Sam, stakes flashing in the dim light. Sam barely blocked the first strike, crossing his arms just in time to absorb the impact, but Jason was relentless. His next attack slipped past Sam's defenses, a stake jabbing into his side. The pain was sharp, immediate, but Sam gritted his teeth through it, knowing the sensation was a product of the mental realm—it wasn't real, but damn if it didn't feel that way.

"Stop thinking!" Jason barked, pulling back only to launch another volley of strikes. "You're too slow because you're in your head. You overthink every move, and it's killing you."

The words stung almost as much as the hits. Jason's strikes came down with ferocious precision. Sam's defenses wavered, the weight of each blow driving him backward toward the edge of the island. His foot slipped, and for a moment, he felt the world teeter. But instead of crashing into water again, the environment morphed.

The tranquil sea vanished, replaced by an inferno. Lava bubbled and hissed, encircling the island in a hellish moat. The air grew thick with heat, scorching Sam's skin. There was no room for retreat now. One wrong step and he'd be incinerated.

Jason's grin was wolfish. "No more falling back, kid."

Sam's heart hammered in his chest, the oppressive heat squeezing his lungs. But something clicked. This wasn't about winning. Not yet. It was about surviving. Flow, redirect, he reminded himself.

As Jason charged again, stakes raised for the kill, Sam moved—not away from the attack, but with it. He sidestepped, letting Jason's momentum carry him past. In one fluid motion, Sam grabbed Jason's wrist, twisted, and redirected the force, sending Jason stumbling forward. For a brief second, Sam had the upper hand, his own fists poised to strike. But Jason, ever the hunter, flipped mid-air over Sam's head and slammed his knee into Sam's back.

Sam hit the ground hard, gasping for air as the lava crackled menacingly close. But with each hit, each fall, something inside him sharpened. His mind grew clearer, his body more attuned to the rhythm of combat. The assimilation rate flashed in his mind—43%, 44%, 45%... The numbers ticked upward with each painful lesson, each new adaptation.

Jason didn't wait. He was already moving again, but this time, so was Sam.

Sam dodged the first strike, anticipating the second. His movements were smoother now, more fluid. He ducked under Jason's swing, twisted his hips, and delivered a powerful upward kick that connected with Jason's jaw. The crack echoed in the fiery silence as Jason stumbled back for the first time.

Not wasting a second, Sam pressed the advantage. His body dropped into a low crouch, sweeping his leg toward Jason's ankles. But Jason, ever the predator, was ready. He blocked, and Sam used the block to pivot, locking Jason's arm in an armbar and twisting with newfound confidence.

The assimilation rate hit 50%.

For a heartbeat, Sam thought he had him. But Jason moved like a snake, twisting out of the lock and countering with a brutal kick to Sam's face. Sam's head snapped back, pain flaring through his skull, but he stayed on his feet this time. His reflexes sharper, his instincts honed.

Before the fight could continue, the realm shifted again.

The island, the lava, the flames—all melted away, replaced by the worn wood floors of a cozy lake house. Sam blinked, disoriented for a moment. The crackling fire, the rustic furniture, the faint scent of pine—it was familiar.

Jason stood across from him, dusting himself off, his expression no longer one of superiority, but something close to approval. "50% assimilation," he said, his voice calm, almost... proud. "You're learning."

Sam exhaled, the tension easing from his body, though the aches and bruises remained. He felt different—stronger, more capable. The mental realm had pushed him to his limits, and he had adapted.

"But don't get cocky," Jason warned, stepping forward. "You've still got a long way to go, and right now, we've got bigger problems."

Sam wiped the blood from his mouth, nodding. "Katherine's bluff worked because I made her think I knew more than I should. Now she's more interested in me than ever. What's the plan?"

Jason leaned against the mantel, arms crossed. "First, we find Michael. Without tipping her off." He paused, a sly grin forming. "And I know just the person who can help."

Sam raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Abby Bennett. Bonnie's mom," Jason continued, his voice low. "She's the key. She was the one who trapped him in the first place."

Sam's mind raced, pieces falling into place. Abby Bennett. It was a long shot, but it was their best chance.

"And Katherine?" Sam asked.

Jason's grin widened, wicked. "You'll handle her. Let her think she's winning, but keep her guessing. Feed her just enough to keep her on the hook, but never the whole truth."

Sam nodded, determination flaring in his chest. The stakes were higher now, but he was ready. He had to be.

"Let's finish this," he said.

Jason clapped him on the back, a rare clap of approval from the normally stoic Red Hood. "Good," Jason said, his voice settling into something sharper, more determined. "Now, we move fast. Katherine's smart—dangerous, too. She'll pick up on any hesitation or slip in the story. But you, Sam, you'll play her at her own game."

Sam nodded, his mind still piecing together the rapidly changing plan. He had to handle Katherine carefully—she was no ordinary threat. Her malevolence was palpable, like the steady thrum of danger that accompanied Jason, only more insidious. Katherine's cunning wasn't born of brute strength like Jason's—it was manipulative, psychological. The kind of predator that savored the hunt.

Sam had felt it every time she locked eyes with him, the gleam of amusement as if she knew things about him he hadn't even figured out yet. Katherine always smiled, always toyed with her prey before the kill.

But he wasn't prey. Not anymore.

Jason's gaze lingered on Sam for a beat longer, as though assessing whether Sam had truly grasped the gravity of what was to come. Then, with a fluid motion, Jason turned and walked toward the doorway of the lake house. "Get ready. This next part won't be a sparring match."

Status:

Name: Sam Gilbert

Species: Human

Titles: [Red Hood], [Gilbert Heir] [Last Demon Hunter] [Van Helsing Discipe] 

Assimilation: 50% + 37

Attributes:

Strength: 19 + 3

Speed: 20 + 3

Constitution: 23 + 7

Dexterity: 21 + 3 

Intelligence: 19 + 3

(10 = average human, 20 = superhuman, 45 - fledging/ first years vampires, 65 - century old vampire)

The sun was low in the sky as Sam approached the diner, the crimson and orange hues of sunset casting long shadows across the parking lot. His steps were purposeful, but his heart raced in anticipation. Jason's words echoed in his head—play her game, give her just enough. Easier said than done. Katherine was notorious for getting what she wanted, one way or another.

The bell above the door jingled softly as Sam stepped inside. The diner was almost empty, save for a few late evening customers. He spotted her immediately, sitting in a booth near the window, casually stirring a cup of tea as though she were waiting for an old friend.

Katherine Pierce.

Her dark hair fell in effortless waves over her shoulders, her eyes flickering with an unsettling mix of allure and calculation. She looked up as Sam approached, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her lips. "Sam," she purred, her voice like velvet laced with venom. "You're late."

He slid into the booth across from her, keeping his expression neutral, though the tension coiled tight in his chest. "Traffic," he replied smoothly, leaning back against the seat, trying to mirror her ease.

Katherine tilted her head slightly, her eyes scanning him as if assessing his very soul. "You've been busy," she remarked, her voice lilting. "I can see it in your eyes."

Sam forced a smile. "You know how it is. Always something new to worry about."

She laughed lightly, but there was a dangerous undercurrent to it. "Oh, I imagine you've got quite a bit on your mind. That's why I was so surprised when you let that little secret slip the other day. Michael, of all people? You've been holding out on me, Sam."

Sam leaned forward, trying to maintain the upper hand in this dangerous dance. "Michael isn't something you mess with lightly, Katherine. I didn't mean to mention him, but you—" he allowed himself to falter for just a second, to give her something to latch onto, "—you pushed harder than I expected."

Her smile grew, dark and hungry, like a predator closing in on wounded prey. "Did I?" she mused, sipping her tea with deliberate slowness. "I tend to have that effect on people. But now I'm curious—what else are you hiding? You see, when you mentioned Michael, it got me thinking. Why would someone like you know where he is?"

Sam kept his breathing steady, his mind racing to stay one step ahead of her. This was the game—keep her interested, keep her guessing. "It wasn't a secret I wanted to hold on to," he said carefully, watching her eyes for any shift. "But I didn't have much of a choice. Michael... he's not something I'm eager to get involved with again."

Katherine's fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the table, her gaze never wavering. "Oh, Sam. You're in far too deep to avoid getting involved. Whether you like it or not, Michael will be a part of your life again. The only question is—are you going to face it head-on, or will you let him find you first?"

Sam clenched his jaw. She was good—too good. Every word was a carefully laid trap, each question designed to dig deeper, to expose more. He had to give her something, but not too much. "I'm not running," he said, letting a bit of frustration creep into his voice. "But finding him isn't as easy as you think. You're not the only one who's interested in his whereabouts."

Katherine's eyes sparkled with amusement, and she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, I know I'm not the only one, darling. But I'm the one you should be worried about."

Sam forced a laugh, shaking his head. "I'm well aware of what you're capable of, Katherine. But if you think I'm just going to hand over that information, you're mistaken."

Katherine leaned back, crossing her legs leisurely as if she had all the time in the world. "I don't need you to hand it over, Sam. I just need you to make one little mistake. And you will, eventually."

The confidence in her voice sent a chill down his spine. Sam clenched his fists under the table, fighting to maintain his composure. She was pushing, testing, and waiting for him to crack. But he wasn't about to give her that satisfaction.

"You overestimate yourself," Sam said, his voice steady. "I've learned from my mistakes. You won't catch me off-guard again."

Katherine's smile widened, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "We'll see about that."

The tension in the booth was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats and hidden agendas. Sam could feel Katherine's gaze boring into him, her every movement calculated, every word designed to draw him deeper into her web. But he couldn't afford to slip now. Not when they were so close.

His mind flashed to Jason's words: Dangle just enough. He had to keep her engaged without giving away too much.

"I'll tell you this," Sam said, keeping his voice low, as though offering her a rare gem of information. "I know where Michael's. But getting to it won't be easy. It's sealed, locked away by someone much stronger than either of us."

Katherine's interest piqued visibly. "Sealed, you say? And just how do you plan on unsealing it?"

Sam leaned forward, lowering his voice even more. "There's a witch. A powerful one. She's the only one who can break the seal. And she's not exactly eager to get involved."

Katherine's eyes gleamed with hunger. "You'll need to convince her then. Or I could convince her for you. I have ways of making people cooperate, after all."

Sam met her gaze head-on. 

For a moment, Katherine studied him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Fine. I'll play along, for now. But make no mistake, Sam. If you try to double-cross me, you'll regret it."

Sam forced a tight smile. "I wouldn't dream of it."

But as he left the diner, his mind raced. Katherine was in deeper than ever, and the game had just begun. Now, all he had to do was make sure she never saw the final play coming.