Halo's body shivered, a wash of goosebumps coursing beneath his skin.
Before he could gather himself, his shadow thickened, gained weight, and slowly peeled off the ground. It rose, separating from him entirely.
The creature's form was drowned in a pitch-black silhouette so dense it erased every facial detail except the burning, pupilless white eyes.
It shared Halo's build and posture, even his dirty-white hair streaked with vivid red. The height was identical too.
Halo swallowed. The likeness was unsettling. If it wore clothes and hid its faceless void, anyone could mistake it for him.
Still, something felt off.
He stepped closer and reached out, brushing his hand across its form. The cold, dark pressure of the creature seeped into him. He even ran his fingers through its hair.
The hair felt real, too real, while the rest of its body was tangible in a way shadow constructs had no right to be. It felt like skin and bone sculpted out of darkness itself.
Unease crawled up Halo's spine. The clone's body trembled with something disturbingly close to panic.
He drifted into thought, analyzing it. But when he pulled back a step to take in the full scene, realization clicked. A sneer played on his lips.
The clone was trembling… and sweating.
But the sweat was wrong. It was thicker than normal, with a faint pale tint. The moment he noticed it beading across the creature's brow, it all made sense.
Halo's eyes narrowed, his sneer shifting into a smile.
"Were you uncomfortable?"
The clone nodded.
His grin deepened. "So you can think but not speak?"
Another nod.
He smiled back. He knew what he was capable of. If he stripped everything away and let the cold devour his soul, he could be terrifying. But he was still human, and the mortals he'd slain hadn't proved otherwise.
The clone, however… It could push him much further.
Before he could reflect on it more, a bronze screen flashed before his eyes.
***
[ You've received a purpose:
Atop Silent Hill lies a weapon: the Mangus Blade. Wielded by many, yet by none. Retrieve the blade of survival. ]
***
He smirked. 'Finally. A Purpose. But where is Silent Hill? The game at least had a map.'
As he sank deeper into thought, the clone tapped his shoulder and pointed toward the bridge behind them.
Halo snapped back instantly.
He had a Purpose now and failing it wasn't an option. Players died for that in the game. He wasn't going to test the consequences in reality.
He sighed. It didn't change his first priority: finding the hero.
The clone was proving useful, though he didn't feel inclined to show appreciation. He started toward the bridge with the creature silently following.
When he reached the edge, he hesitated. The drop below was deadly, the fog suffocating. He pressed his foot down carefully, testing the wood.
Before he could proceed, the clone rested a hand on his shoulder and motioned forward. It wanted to go first.
Halo stepped aside. The clone walked several casual steps ahead, stopped, then gestured for him to follow.
Halo noticed his shadow was gone entirely, as though the sun no longer acknowledged him. Strangely, he welcomed the feeling.
He had never really had a companion, besides his best friend, and not because people avoided him, but because he avoided them. Friendships always end. Expectations were chains. He had no interest in wearing them.
His best friend had made a decision that would likely ruin him forever. And if he'd done it knowing Halo was poisoned… it couldn't have been easy on him either.
Whether the clone could ever replace that bond, Halo didn't know. But for now, he simply wanted someone who could share the weight.
Maybe the clone held all his memories. Maybe it understood him fully.
They continued forward. The bridge shook occasionally but held firm as they pushed deeper into the mist.
***
The footbridge was masterfully crafted, knots tied by the steadiest hands, each plank polished and sturdy, untouched even by the consuming mist. Yet progress felt endless.
Fatigue crushed Halo. He didn't want to sleep outside, but the bridge stretched on, devouring time.
His limbs trembled. He clung to the rope rail, swaying weakly.
His clone, in contrast, moved as though it was tireless. It frequently glanced back, urging him silently to keep pace.
But this was beyond a long walk, dawn was breaking, and Halo was starving.
The fog was thick, the silence heavy enough to hear his own pulse. It clawed at his mind, twisting his senses, making him hallucinate.
Before exhaustion could force him to collapse, the clone turned sharply. No words, just a wide-eyed gesture.
Halo understood instantly.
There was something ahead.
He peered past it and in the distance, a faint outline emerged.
The end of the bridge.
Hope sparked in his chest. He urged the clone to pick up the pace.
But halfway through his step, something shifted inside him. His expression flattened, masking the thrill beneath.
The clone stopped again, forcing Halo to halt. Without turning, it pointed toward a figure at the far end.
Halo's face hardened.
A warrior stood at the entrance, clad entirely in black armor, sword plunged into the earth, hand resting on its hilt. Behind them loomed a colossal gate, tall enough for a thousand people to walk through at once.
Halo gulped.
Was this Silent Hill?
The clone glanced at him, then back at the armored figure. Halo's eyes narrowed.
It wasn't sensing danger, It was worried for itself.
Halo realized why.
A clone walking around wasn't normal here, and he had no idea what kind of god Death was to these lonely souls. But it was Death. The most feared of all.
People would hate him for it. Call him a monster. And yes, he killed people, but with purpose, not clueless violence.
He sighed. "Can you poof out of here and pop back in when I need you?"
The clone nodded firmly and dissolved into a dark sphere before snapping back into place beneath him, reforming his shadow.
"This is… weird," he muttered. "Guess I'll need to give you a name. But… what? Eh. Later."
Without waiting, he strode toward the gate.