Chapter 281: Who are you, little blooddrinker?
Damon dashed forward as he conjured a flaming crimson lance. At the same time, the other one did the exact same thing.
Two figures, identical in form, in power, in fury, clashed in the center of the poisonous mist like colliding stars. Their lances struck with an earsplitting crack, a shockwave tearing through the air as fire met fire and blood met blood.
The force of their clash rippled outward, splitting the green fog and scorching the stone beneath their feet.
Damon spun, ducked a mirrored strike, then thrust his lance low, only for the doppelgänger to anticipate it, blocking perfectly. The clone grinned, mimicking his movements down to the twitch of his fingers.
It was like fighting someone who knew all his instincts before he could even act on them. "You think you’re in control," the doppelgänger sneered, lashing out with a blood-slick palm. "But you’ve already lost yourself. You are nothing but a puppet now, walking in the path already forged for you by someone else."
Damon grunted as he took the hit, skidding backward. The next moment, his body surged with power. He did not talk anymore. Talking was pointless when he could convey everything through his attacks.
However, it did not matter. The same power surged through his opponent. Every attack he threw toward the guy came right back at him. It was truly a hopeless situation. There was no possible way he could win.
Damon grinned. "Well, you can replicate me from a second ago, but can you replicate the me right now?"
A cold determination glinted in Damon’s eyes. "No," he growled. "You can’t. Because you’re a shadow. And I... I evolve."
He had been fighting for a while now, and there were several theories in his mind on how to improve himself and take his damage to the next level. If this was not the perfect chance to practise all of that, then what was?