The clone didn't move at first.
It simply looked at them.
Those glowing white eyes — calm, empty, patient.
Then it spoke.
The voice was identical to Reishin's.
Same tone. Same measured cadence.
But something about it rang hollow.
Like a distant echo.
"I will now explain how this trial will proceed."
Yuma and Enji stayed silent.
"For the next two weeks, you will fight me. Day and night. Without significant interruption."
Enji blinked.
"Day and night?"
"You will be permitted two hours of rest per day. No more."
Silence.
"That's a joke," Yuma said flatly.
"No."
"Two hours. Per day."
"Yes."
"For fourteen days?"
"Correct."
Yuma slowly turned toward Enji.
Enji was staring at the clone with the expression of someone doing mental math — and deeply regretting the answer.
"If, at the end of two weeks, you have not put me on the ground even once… you will not receive the original's favor. The guild will remain beyond your reach."
"And if we do?" Yuma asked.
"Then you will have earned your place."
A pause.
"Any questions?"
"Yeah," Yuma said. "How exactly are we supposed to stay standing with two hours of sleep per—"
The sound of wheels grinding against stone interrupted him.
Both boys turned.
Alfred entered through the arena gate.
Behind him, five Hyōga household servants pushed heavy carts.
Carts stacked to the brim.
Dozens upon dozens of glass vials — arranged in tight rows.
Crimson red.
Luminous blue.
Milky white.
Alfred stepped forward, bowed politely, and spoke in his usual calm tone.
"Regenerative healing potions. Mana restoration potions. Physical endurance enhancers. Courtesy of the original."
Enji stared at the carts.
"He… bought all that for us?"
"He anticipated your needs," the clone replied. "Each mana potion will restore sufficient energy for continued combat. Each healing potion will eliminate non-critical injuries within minutes."
The servants lined the carts neatly along the arena wall.
Alfred retrieved his teacup from the stands and sat down in a cushioned chair that had somehow appeared behind him — as if this were a perfectly ordinary afternoon.
"Alfred," Enji said slowly. "You're staying?"
"Of course, Master Enji. Someone must supervise potion administration and ensure you adhere to the designated two hours of rest. I accept this responsibility with pleasure."
Enji stared at him.
"We're going to die."
"I do not believe so," Alfred replied, lifting his tea. "However… it will be educational."
Yuma wasn't looking at Alfred.
He was staring at the potions.
He thought about the village.
The nights training in the forest.
The mornings his grandfather woke him before dawn with a punch to the head.
I've endured worse.
"I'm good," he said.
Enji turned sharply.
"You're good?"
"We've got supplies. We've got two weeks. And we've got a fixed opponent we can study every single fight."
"A fixed opponent at eighty percent of Reishin."
"Yeah."
"Yuma. Reishin dropped us in thirty seconds last night."
"I know."
"So his eighty-percent clone will drop us in—"
The clone moved.
No signal.
No warning.
Just motion.
Fast. Silent. Direct.
Enji barely had time to dive sideways.
Yuma blocked the first strike with his forearm — and felt the shock explode up into his shoulder.
"He's attacking already?!" Enji shouted, scrambling up.
"APPARENTLY!" Yuma barked back.
The clone stopped in the center of the arena.
White eyes. Relaxed posture.
"The trial has begun."
Lightning erupted across Yuma's body instantly.
Thunder Dance.
Electric arcs ran down his legs, his arms, across his shoulders.
He vanished in a crack of sound — reappearing to the clone's left, right fist blazing with compressed fire.
"ENJI — ZONE CONTROL!"
"ON IT!"
Enji slammed both palms against the stone floor.
Frost Coffin erupted beneath the clone's feet — pillars of ice snapping upward, attempting to lock his ankles in place.
The clone jumped.
Clean. Efficient.
The ice closed around empty air.
He landed behind Enji.
"Behind you—!" Yuma shouted.
Enji spun and fired an Absolute Ice Lance at point-blank range.
The clone tilted his torso a few inches.
The lance grazed through him — slicing wind.
"Your coordination is acceptable," the clone stated calmly. "However, your timing lags by two-tenths of a second."
"Thanks for the feedback!" Yuma snapped as he charged.
Black Sun Fist.
He released it.
A compressed blast of dark fire detonated against the clone's chest.
Smoke swallowed the arena.
When it cleared—
The clone stood untouched. Slightly pushed back.
Not a scratch.
"Your current output is insufficient to penetrate my wind mana defense."
"You've gotta be kidding me," Yuma muttered.
"Try lightning," Enji said, repositioning. "Wind conducts—"
"I know."
Yuma focused everything into his right leg.
Crushing Flash.
Maximum propulsion.
Single-point impact.
He disappeared—
Reappeared in front of the clone in less than a blink.
His fist struck.
The clone raised one forearm.
The collision erupted in a blinding white discharge that lit the entire arena.
The clone slid back one full meter.
Enji's eyes widened.
"He moved!"
"I saw it! Again!"
"Scarlet Nova!"
Enji pulled ambient mana at full output.
A pulsing sphere of condensed fire formed above his palm — unstable, roaring.
He hurled it.
The clone pivoted.
The Nova exploded against the arena wall in a violent spray of flame and debris.
"Damn it!" Enji hissed.
"Shattered Mirror!" Yuma shouted. "Set the plates — I'll drive him!"
"Got it!"
Four ice panels formed midair around the clone at calculated angles.
Enji shaped two lances in his hands.
Yuma activated Thunder Dance at full throttle — blitzing around the clone in rapid arcs, striking from every direction, forcing movement.
Left.
Right.
Back.
"NOW!"
Enji launched both lances.
They struck the ice plates.
Reflected.
Changed trajectory.
They shot toward the clone's blind spot from two separate vectors.
The clone rotated.
One open hand.
A compressed wall of wind formed an inch from his back.
The lances stopped.
Shattered.
Fell to the ground.
Silence.
"Your combined technique is creative," the clone said. "However, it requires three seconds of setup. Against an aware opponent, it will be anticipated."
"You couldn't just let that hit for morale?" Yuma panted.
"No."
"Wow. Supportive."
The clone tilted its head slightly.
"I will now retaliate."
Enji stepped back.
"Wait—"
The clone crossed the arena in a fraction of a second.
A palm strike to Yuma's sternum—
The impact detonated.
Yuma flew backward and slammed into the arena wall with a bone-rattling crash.
Instant rotation.
The clone closed on Enji.
Enji attempted Frost Coffin in desperation—
The clone leapt over the ice, seized Enji's forearm midair, and slammed him into the stone floor with surgical precision.
BOOM.
The arena fell silent.
Yuma slumped against the wall, breath gone.
Enji lay face-down against the cold stone.
Both gasping.
The clone returned to the center.
White eyes.
Relaxed posture.
As if nothing had happened.
Alfred rose calmly.
He retrieved two potions and placed them within reach of the boys.
"First engagement. Duration: four minutes and seventeen seconds."
He removed a small notebook and wrote something carefully.
"Notable progress: Master Yuma forced the clone to retreat one meter. An encouraging beginning."
Enji groaned into the stone.
"Pardon?" Alfred asked politely.
Enji lifted his head slowly.
"I said… we're going to die."
"I remain unconvinced," Alfred replied, sipping his tea. "Mana potion, Master Enji. And do get up. You have two weeks ahead of you."
Yuma tore the cork from his vial with shaking fingers.
He drank it in one swallow.
Mana flooded back into his body like a cold, familiar tide.
He looked up.
The clone was already watching him.
Waiting.
Yuma pushed himself to his feet.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He wiped it with the back of his hand.
Then he smiled.
"Again."
End of Chapter 12