"Tch."
Of course.
This wasn't just a stronger version of himself. It was the version he could become. One without hesitation. Without mercy. Without fear.
No weight of guilt. No empathy. Just pure, sharpened will.
They clashed again.
Kael's attacks were solid—years of training behind each swing. But the mirrored version didn't react. It anticipated the attack.
Each parry came before Kael finished his motion. Every counterattack forced him back, step by step.
A slash tore across his thigh.
Kael gritted his teeth. No time to check it.
He rolled sideways, breathing heavily, sweat sticking to his neck.
'He knows all my patterns. Even the ones I haven't used yet.'
Because it was him.
No… worse.
It was him without restraint.
Kael stood again, blade trembling in his hand. Blood dripped down his leg, hot and steady. His illusion spoke for the first time.
"You waste energy protecting those who would fall behind."
Kael didn't respond.
