Meanwhile, in the Corridor:-
Takson didn't stop to rest. He had defeated his copy, but he knew his teacher was ahead, likely fighting something far worse. He sprinted down the hallway, his boots pounding against the stone.
"Teacher went this way," he muttered, turning the corner at full speed.
He expected to see Stell standing over a defeated boss. He expected a lecture on his slowness.
Instead, he saw death.
A grey blur was already mid-swing.
"Wha…?!"
It was pure instinct. Takson didn't think; his body just moved. He slammed the haft of his battle-axe up, intercepting the incoming strike a fraction of a second before it could cleave his skull.
It was a mistake.
Blocking was the wrong choice. He should have dodged.
The moment the weapons connected, Takson learned the true meaning of the phrase "mantis trying to stop a chariot."
The force wasn't just heavy; it was absolute. It shattered his stance instantly. The shockwave traveled down his arms, tearing the skin between his thumbs and fingers.
Then, he was airborne.
"Guh!"
He smashed into the wall behind him, the stone cracking under the impact. He slid to the floor, gasping for air that wouldn't come. His chest felt like it had been crushed by a hydraulic press.
"Blergh!"
He couldn't hold it back. He vomited a mouthful of bright red blood onto the dusty floor. His ribs were definitely cracked. His hands were numb, his weapon lying a few feet away.
Fighting through the gray fog threatening to swallow his consciousness, he looked up. He needed to see what had hit him.
His heart stopped.
Standing over him was a girl with long hair and a petite frame. She held a massive weapon with effortless grace. Her eyes were cold, lifeless voids.
If not for the muddy, clay-like color of her skin, he would have thought it was her.
"You have got to be kidding me," Takson wheezed, blood dripping from his chin. "A fake Teacher?"
The despair that washed over him was colder than any ice magic.
He knew how strong Stell was. He had seen her reshape landscapes. He had seen her slaughter armies.
If you asked Takson to fight Stell, his answer would be simple:
Me? Fight Teacher? Are you crazy?
Haha. I'm dead.
Cough.
Takson spat a glob of blood onto the dusty floor. His ribs throbbed with a dull, grinding ache, but his mind was surprisingly clear.
He had made the mistake of challenging Stell to a sparring match once. Just once.
He never did it again.
Compared to the absolute, suffocating pressure he felt when facing his teacher, the monsters in the "Hell Mode" arena felt like cuddly pets. That sparring match had taught him the difference between "strong" and "absolute."
And because he knew that feeling, he knew something else: this mud-colored copy was a pale imitation.
If that had been Teacher, he thought, wiping his chin, I wouldn't be flying through the air. I would have been cut in half before I even saw the blade move.
The clone was strong, yes. But it wasn't her.
One on one... I might actually have a chance.
He gripped his axe, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.
Then, two more grey figures stepped out from the shadows behind the first one. Identical weapons. Identical dead eyes.
"Hey, hey... are you serious?"
The hope vanished, replaced by a cold bucket of reality.
He had just realized the first one was merely a clone. And now there were three of them?
One is tough. Three is impossible.
I can't do this. There is absolutely no way I can do this!
As the three copies began to advance, their movements perfectly synchronized, Takson's internal monologue dissolved into a scream of panic.
Waaaah! Stay back! Don't come any closer!
TEACHER! SAVE MEEE!
….
Deep in the Labyrinth:-
Stell paused.
Her clone was busy efficiently dismantling the wandering mobs in the lower levels, but her main consciousness was focused elsewhere. She was closing in on the Spiegel's lair.
Suddenly, she stopped and looked back the way she came.
"Takson?"
Her sensors picked up the spike in his vitals. Fear. Adrenaline. He had engaged the enemy.
He has encountered the clones, she analyzed.
She wasn't worried. Her calculations were precise. In a single combat scenario, Takson's probability of victory against a flawed clone was high.
However, there are three.
But she didn't turn back. She didn't rush to his aid.
He does not need to worry about facing three opponents simultaneously, she thought, resuming her walk toward the boss room. I have already implemented the solution.
….
Back in the Corridor
After his internal panic attack subsided, a strange calm settled over Takson. It was the resignation of the condemned.
"Tch. Fine," he grunted, forcing himself to stand upright despite the screaming pain in his chest. "If I'm going to lose, I'll lose with some dignity."
Defeat seemed inevitable. But he refused to die on his knees.
Teacher said it once... you never know your limits until you risk everything.
He trusted Stell. He knew that even if he was torn to pieces here, she would fix him. She always did. And if death wasn't the end... then what did he have to fear?
"Let's do this!"
He reached for the holy book at his belt, intending to open with a blast of Goddess magic.
But the enemy wasn't going to give him the time to cast.
Zzzzt!
One of the clones raised a hand. A beam of concentrated mana shot across the room, aimed right between Takson's eyes.
A ranged attack?
Takson didn't dodge. He didn't even flinch.
Voom.
A translucent, shimmering barrier materialized inches from his face.
"You really shouldn't have done that," Takson grinned, his teeth stained red. "You just triggered my trap."
Reflect Missile.
It was his signature spell. The one magic he had developed himself, pouring all his limited talent into a single concept: return to sender.
The laser struck the barrier and bounced. But it didn't just deflect; it curved. It twisted in the air, seeking its source like a hunting hawk.
The clone tried to dodge, but the beam turned with it, slamming into its back with a sizzling impact.
One down.
The battle was on.
While the first clone staggered, the other two launched themselves at him. They were blurs of motion, closing the gap in a heartbeat.
If it were just one, Takson could have tracked it. He could have relied on his warrior's instinct.
But two? It was too much.
He saw the afterimages of their axes. One aiming for his neck, the other for his gut. There was no way to dodge both.
Block!
He slammed his axe shaft vertical, bracing his entire body, hoping to catch both blades and withstand the impact. Getting knocked back was better than getting decapitated.
But just as the weapons were about to connect, the clones moved.
It was a feint.
Mid-swing, they shifted their weight with impossible fluidity. They sidestepped his guard, their axes curving around his defense to strike from the sides.
Takson's eyes went wide. His chest was wide open.
It's over.
….
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