Chapter 229: EX 229. One’s Self
Back in the manor, in the hidden depths of the former lord’s chamber, the chrysalis pulsed. Black mist coiled around it, humming with a corrupt power that filled the walls with a low, steady vibration.
Inside, Leon hung suspended, his soul form adrift in a vast void.
He was calm. Strangely so. But panic clawed at the edges of his mind, but he forced it down. Getting agitated won’t help.
’Just breath’
Even without lungs, he mimicked the act, inhaling and exhaling slowly. The small rhythm gave him focus, a tether in the endless dark.
But calm was difficult. The void itself pressed against his thoughts, needling at him, stirring agitation. The corruption was subtle, whispering chaos and urging him to break.
He closed his eyes tighter.
’So... how do I get out of this?’
Brute force, the usual answer was useless here. He could feel it. His strength had no weight in this place. His options were limited, painfully so.
Another thought slipped in, sharp and unwanted. ’Why didn’t my senses warn me?’ Normally, his Sense flared at the faintest danger, saving him from traps before they closed. Yet here, nothing. Not even a flicker of warning.
As he wrestled with that question, light split the void.
It began as a pinprick, then widened into a blinding pull that yanked him forward. He had no time to resist before his soul was dragged into it.
When the light cleared, Leon stood on solid ground. The void he had just floated in now stretched across the sky like a black ocean overhead, its currents swirling with silent stars. Beneath him spread a vast, barren landscape, cracked and endless.
And there, before him stood a figure.
At first it was nothing but shadow, an outline without detail. Then, as if sculpted by unseen hands, the shape sharpened into flesh, bone, and form.
Leon’s eyes widened, breath hitching despite his spirit body.
The figure staring back at him was himself.
"Is that... me?" he whispered.
****
Leon watched the shadow as it mirrored him perfectly. He raised his right hand; the copy lifted its right hand. He tilted his head; it tilted. He hoisted one leg and the silhouette followed with uncanny precision. The mimicry felt like a trick at first, like a mirror playing catch with his movements.
"What are you?" he thought, the question forming so quietly it was almost reflex.
The shadow stopped matching him. A grin split its face, wrong, sharper than his own and it spoke with a voice that was his and not his.
"I am you, but better."
A ridiculous impulse flared; he wanted to punch his own reflection. The urge passed as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold curiosity.
"What makes you think you’re better?" he asked aloud.
The shadow laughed, arrogant and easy.
"I can do everything you can, without the messy drag of emotions." It paced a slow circle, voice slick. "You could have ended that abomination sooner if you had not wasted time worrying. If you did not care for those weak lives, you would have won clean, if-"
"Cut the bull crap." Leon cut it off.
The copy froze for a breath, thrown by the bluntness. Leon kept talking, steady and sharp. "How I act is how I act. I do not want a wannabe telling me otherwise."
The shadow’s grin widened until it was almost smug. "See?" it said. "Emotions make you weak. One word from me and you’re already riled up."
Leon let the bait hang in the air. Soon a small and dangerous smile formed on his face. "Can you stop?" The copy blinked, confused. "What?" it said.
"Whatever you are trying to do, stop," Leon said. He scanned the barren landscape, then fixed the shadow with a level look. "The fact you formed when I touched that rock means you came from corruption. You are not me. You are theft. And the fact you haven’t taken me over yet but instead decided to annoy me is what I don’t like. So just stop."
Suddenly Leon’s grin turned a fraction crueler. "No I have a better idea. I wonder what will happen if you ceased to exist."
Leon did not hesitate. He had no idea whether the connection would work here, whether his inventory rules held in this mental hollow, but he willed for a blade all the same. Steel answered his thought. A sword shimmered into his hand, heavy and familiar, the hilt fitting like it had always been there.
"Would you look at that," he said, dry. "Even this place is tired of hearing you speak."
Sword in hand, he felt the annoyance settle into something useful. The copy was the most infuriating opponent he had ever met, because it knew him, and because it dared to speak for him. Leon tightened his grip, stance unhurried, and let the calm settle around the edge of his anger.
****
The copy grinned at Leon, but behind that expression its thoughts were restless.
’I don’t understand why he hasn’t been taken over yet. The corruption here is thick enough to drown even the strongest mind, yet he stands untouched. Anyone else would have already lost their sanity.’
Its grin sharpened. ’Is this why he could free those souls from our grasp after defeating that abomination? What kind of monster is this boy...?’
The thought cut off as the sound of steel tearing through the void echoed; though there was no air here, the blade still sang like it did in the waking world. The copy snapped its eyes up just in time. Leon’s sword flashed toward it, the strike swift and precise.
The copy reacted instantly, conjuring its own blade into existence. Metal clashed as it caught the strike, sparks bursting between them. The force pushed it back a step, boots grinding across the nothingness beneath them.
’It doesn’t matter, the copy thought coldly. If I kill him here, his body and soul will be ours. Then we’ll uncover what makes him so different.’
It lunged forward, blade raised, corruption rippling along the steel. Leon met the charge head-on, his own sword cutting through the shadows with unyielding strength. Their blades collided again, the clash ringing like thunder in the empty space, sparks scattering in brief flashes of light.
The fight had begun two versions of the same self, steel grinding against steel, neither willing to yield.