Chapter 128: Echoes of Suspicion, Duel Within
The train rattled across the dark plains, cutting through the night like a lone serpent.
Most compartments were locked, their passengers either asleep or dozing after the evening meal.
Trays with half-finished food lay stacked outside doors.
Inside one of those compartments, Rey sat cross-legged on his seat.
His body trembled. Sweat trickled down his temple, soaking the back of his shirt. Every few seconds, his arms twitched as though he were fighting an invisible battle.
In truth, he was.
White Space.
A vast blank expanse stretched endlessly. His spirits lingered at the edge, their eyes locked on the duel unfolding before them.
Rey clashed with… Rey.
A mirrored version of himself, almost identical, yet sharper, deadlier, and terrifyingly efficient.
Every strike, every movement carried an authority that made Rey's real self look clumsy in comparison.
He had lost more times than he could count—forty, fifty, maybe more. Death after death. His body shredded, his weapons split like brittle wood.
Aiden had even armed the clone with extra advantages: D-rank proficiency in every weapon, each blade coated in Minor Weapon Aura.
"Fighting this opponent will sharpen your comprehension," Aiden had told him.
Rey had agreed at first. Now he regretted it with every brutal defeat.
When daggers, swords, even bows failed, he was forced to wield the greatsword he had avoided until now.
With it, his survival rate improved—slightly. The clone still overpowered him, but the brutal thrashings had dulled from crushing to merely relentless.
Still, he refused to retreat. Every clash, every scar, carried meaning. His endurance climbed. His instincts sharpened. And his dagger, when infused with mana, began to hum with a lethal promise.
If he combined it with Telekinesis… it could become a hidden trump card.
But Aiden forbade him from relying on smaller weapons. "Master the greatsword first. If you can coat that with mana, everything else will be child's play."
So Rey fought on. Even in endless defeat, he pressed forward.
Back in the real world, the train swayed gently.
Rey's eyes snapped open as the dinner tray clattered on his small table. The attendant had just left.
Something about the man's glance lingered—too sharp, too cautious. The way he looked around the compartment before leaving…
And that final glance back at Rey.
It wasn't curiosity. It was confirmation.
Rey's fingers curled, summoning a dagger into his palm.
Its cold weight steadied his racing thoughts. He stepped toward the compartment door, senses stretching outward.
His perception had sharpened since his White Space training. Now, faint whispers drifted into his mind—two voices just beyond the corridor, within five meters.
"…did you check inside that room? Is the kid still alive, or did he croak already?"
"Quiet! You'll get us caught."
"Hah, relax. Everyone's asleep. We'll be in the Capital by morning anyway."
Rey's grip tightened around the dagger. His instincts screamed. These weren't harmless attendants.
The second voice lowered, uncertain. "He's alive. Just a kid. Weak. He won't even qualify for the first round at the new academy."
The first one scoffed, voice laced with mockery. "Figures. The room I peeked into was pathetic. That brat couldn't even be called a cultivator. Yet fools like him dream of entering the Grand Academy? Hah! If he passes, I'll call myself a Rank 4 Disciple."
Rey's lips curved into a cold line. Their mockery didn't sting. What mattered was who they were working for.
If they were part of the group monitoring his family… then tonight, they wouldn't see dawn.
His dagger pulsed faintly with mana as he prepared to vanish into the corridor.
But just as he was about to move, their next words froze him in place.
"…so I thought he might've already died in there."
Rey pressed closer to the door, dagger firm in his grip, his senses stretched thin.
The attendant's voice carried again.
"Who stays inside a room all day without food, without even stepping out for water? It's creepy. I figured he'd dropped dead. But eh, maybe he just packed his own stuff. Either way, I don't care. He's just a little fledgling throwing himself into a nest of hunters."
The other man snorted. "Tch. For a second, I thought you were slipping back into your old hobby—robbing passengers. Maybe you were eyeing that kid?"
"Come on, not anymore. After that brute caught me last time and smashed my face into the ground? I swore never again. I'm lucky he didn't split me in half."
"Hah! Yeah, that was hilarious. You looked like a puffed pumpkin for weeks."
"Shut up. You ran while I got beaten twice over."
Their voices trailed into laughter and half-hearted bickering until another passenger called out from down the corridor. The two men scrambled off, still arguing, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Rey lingered by the door, dagger raised, listening.
Silence.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his guard. They were fools, nothing more. Aiden and Zero had already checked the meal—no poison. For now, there was no threat.
"Too jumpy," Rey muttered under his breath. Still, he tossed the empty trays aside and locked the compartment tight again.
The train rocked gently as he lay back on the padded seat, shutting his eyes. He slowed his breathing, letting his consciousness slip into the White Space.
The familiar whiteness greeted him. Doors shimmered faintly in the void. His connection here grew smoother each day, the entry faster, sharper.
Aiden, of course, had hidden the shortcut—an instant entry method through the system. A calculated cruelty.
Rey didn't know yet, but the trial-by-effort would harden him in ways a shortcut never could.
He stepped into the training arena, summoning his superior double once more.
This clone wasn't an ordinary mirror. His every stat was increased by a hundred, its movements sharper, its aura oppressive.
Tonight, Rey chose daggers as his weapon. No fallback. No half-measures.
Victor lounged at the center of the arena, smirking. With a casual flick, he struck the iron-capped bell.
The sound ripped through the space like a blade against bone. A shiver crawled down Rey's spine.
He barely had time to react.
The clone vanished.
In the next heartbeat, steel flashed from his blind spot, a blade sweeping for his ribs. Rey's instincts screamed. His body moved on its own, rolling away in a blur.
The ground cracked where the strike landed.
No pause. The clone dissolved again, speeding several times his own.
Rey's chest heaved as he twisted, parried, and evaded. Dreadflow's instinctual warnings and his heightened senses were the only thread keeping him alive.
'One mistake. One second too slow… and I'm dead.'
Attacking was meaningless for now. The daggers felt light in his hands, but he knew better—his trump cards had yet to be unleashed.
For now, all he could do was endure.
The night outside the train stretched on. Hours remained before dawn, and with it, his arrival at the Capital.
But here, in this endless White Space, the night had only just begun.
-->To be continued…
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