Anir Dari

(Clone Warrior) Chapter 46: Greater Men Than I

Added 2022-04-21 22:03:09 +0000 UTC

The clones pulled back the arrows with all their power, the bows creaking in minor protest. These bows were not the regular hunter bows made for the unawakened, they were for people who could break rocks off a boulder. It was an odd sensation though, the bow string staying tight and unripped from the force he had applied. They had literally broken rock from a statue with just a pommel of a sword, and yet still it held.

The commander clone breathed in and out, Singular Focus dampening the surroundings and leaving the only thing in his vision: the dungeon core in the middle of the dungeon shell. The lava was dripping randomly, covering the only opening to the insides of the dungeon. There were brief flashes of the golden hue through the smallest gaps and tears in the lava flow. Those were optimal windows, he calculated. They were covered up too fast, not providing enough time to let the arrow pass through.

The shroud of lava was too thick, the arrow wouldn’t pierce through it without losing momentum. These were an easy fix, just wait till the lava veil parts for a sufficient amount of time, and command the five remaining clones to shoot.

“Hold-“

“Aim.”

A particular clump of solid-esque lava rock slid down the body of the meteor, picking up the lava with it. It just had the right path to pass over the hole that led to the dungeon core. The command timed it till it was over the whole, carrying with it the lava that was going to drip from above.

“RELEASE!” The commander shouted, and the bows loosened their baggage. Five arrows flew through the air, barely scraping by the clump of rock. The clones held their breaths, and watched as the arrows hit the dungeon core, clinked off its surface, and then were submerged into the lava below.

The clones realized the folly of their actions. The dungeon core was a spherical object, and arrow heads were pointed, making it obvious that they would ricochet off of the core. There was a sudden pit in their stomachs, a feeling that cascaded into a realization that the duration for the next monster spawn was looming. They were going to get eviscerated, and will also fail the mission, spelling doom for them and for a lot of people.

“I am going to jump in.” One of the older clones uttered, his eyes blazing with fear and courage. “It is the only way.”

“And the pain?” There was a silence, and collectively they escorted the clone to the gap in the dungeon.

“The entrance is too small for you not to get hit; it is only a matter of time until lava incapacitates you.” The commander clone said. “We will protect you from the falling lava with our shields, and you will have to trek through the lava pool around the dungeon.”

The suicide clone nodded and took two shields from the back of the others, putting them on his back. He crouched and pulled up two gremlin bodies into the nooks of his shoulders.

“I will use the shields and the bodies as platforms in the lava pool. They are enough for me to reach the center.” He declared and motioned to a broken sword on his hips. “That should serve as a good improvised hammer.”

The clones laughed and quickly set to their own jobs. The clones with shields advanced up on to the opening, and once the commander gave the order, they slid below the entrance with their shields high up. Their soles were high enough to wade through the small pool of lava, yet they felt the heat. Their shields were wide enough to not let the lava spill on them from the sides, yet they felt the heat.

It got unbearable when the heat pierced through the shoes and into their feet, and the same thing happened to the shield. The metal easily let the heat through, burning the flesh strapped on to the shield. It was an agonizing few seconds of searing flesh, of drops of lava flowing just by their faces.

The suicide clone jumped through the man-made gap, instantly throwing the body of the gremlin on the lava pool. Above him was the interior roof of the asteroid, and from it dripped even more lava. They flew past his face and some touched his breast armor, he continued. Jumping off of the gremlin body, trusting fully in the power of Solid Footwork.

The second gremlin was dropped just before he landed, and he jumped off of that. Midair, he unholstered the two shields and threw them in his path. The air in the dungeon blasted his eyes through the mask he was wearing. The haze was strong, but it couldn’t hide his smile as he jumped closer to the dungeon core.

His feet hit the shield and prepared to jump, just for the shield to tip to the side.

“Shit, shit shit shit.” The commander held his head as he saw the suicide clone plummet into the lava and cry in agony, the lava slowly seeping into his every pore and rendering his flesh into liquid. It was the cries that would haunt the clones.

It wasn’t the time to wince though, and the commander flew through the gap. Last Hurraw was activated and he used the gremlin and shield platforms to reach the shield that had killed the last clone. He looked at it, and saw that it was impossible to use it now that it was half submerged.

His eyes wandered and he firmed himself, praying for Mercy. With a breath in, he jumped from the shield and on to the last clone’s back. He briefly regretted jumping from the clone’s back, but the moment passed and his sword pommel struck the golden globe.

It shattered like glass and from the inside a golden fluid spilled. The commander forced a final smile before he splashed against the lava, and screamed from the pain.

A shockwave of red light radiated upon the destruction of the dungeon core, throwing the lava upon the dungeon shell into the air, splattering all of the clones outside besides one that was far enough to react, shielding himself. The lava pouring from it rapidly cooled off, and the two-story high rock that sheltered the dungeon core cracked and crumbled into dust.

The last clone did the unenviable task of ending his brethren’s lives, relieving them from their suffering. Once they all turned to smoke, he felt a heavy weight settle upon his inner limb. Closing his eyes, he delved and twitched a single digit.

(Achievement Completed: Vanquisher.)

(Achievement Completed: Solo Vanquisher.)

(Achievement Completed: Large Dungeon Vanquisher.)

(Achievement Completed: Nascent Dungeon Vanquisher.)

The clouds overhead parted and Mercy’s body showed itself in all of its glory. A bright ray shined on him, blinding him.

(Gift Extension: Permanent Personality Slot Granted.)

He slumped against the ground, breathing in and out. In and out. So much misery, and for what? For this?

Was it worth it? Yes, of course it was. Alex would say it was good. The clone didn’t think so, the pain, the torture that twisted the other clones faces, his face, into a rictus of agony. It was horrible, horrifying, it rummaged his guts with awful powers and he peaked what little food he had in his belly.

The smell, the sound, the sight, the feel of himself burning and dying clung to him deeply. It reminded him of the stare of the bodiless head, the numerous frozen faces of soldiers, men and women, children and elderly.

The blood chimaera finished off the last of the monsters, and strode over to him. The clone readjusted the masks and clothes that he had over his head.

“Come on their buddy.” A blood claw settled into his shoulder. “This battle is not over yet.”

He let the blood chimaera lead him to the outskirts of the crater. The clone settled on the crater lip and surveyed the crater. The mages took a rest over the bodies of a thousand monsters, forming a blood pool.

“It should be called Blood Lake.” The clone muttered, his eyes beholding the broken buildings and the broken bodies.

“You think it’s going to fill up? That’s going to be cool, people could be swimming in it or fishing.” The chimaera put a claw onto its jaw. “Blood Lake sounds too ominous though, would scare off the people.”

The clone slid off the lip, and walked away from the rambling demon. He was just about to escape behind rubble when the voice of the chimaera sounded out.

“Hey! What’s your name?”

“You can call me…” He threw a broken smile to the chimaera. “…Agony.”

“Awesome!” The thing had too many teeth, he wished it didn’t smile at him that way. “Don’t forget, we will catch you Agony. Those medicines aren’t yours.”

Agony smiled and disappeared between the remnants of manses and villas.

“Who the fuck are you?” Alex stood on the precipice of the door to the bell tower. “And why is she staring at me like that?”

The old man and ruby eyed girl had arrived here with a clone acting as escort. The old fucker looked battered and bruised, so he was not an awakened or a very weak one. That meant that he wasn’t a noble, but a servant. Alex had once thought of becoming a servant to pay the bills, only to find that servant positions were hereditary. From then on, he had a different view of them, finding them just a step above those half monster slaves.

The girl had those eyes of ruby, which reminded him of the noble he had met for a game of chess.

Damn, he wanted to play some chess right now.

She was an awfully quiet kid, and not a single speck of dust must have touched her. Her clothes were in stark contrast with those of the old man. She did not hide in the shadow of her caretaker, but was a statue, staring at him. No, she stared into him.

“I am but a lowly servant for this girl.” The old man smiled genially. “I just want to protect my ward.”

“What’s her name?” Alex repeated.

“Hema Goldfield.” The girly said in a bland tone. Alex narrowed his eyes at her, crunching his eyebrows at the stare that she just kept giving, she didn't even blink.

“I’ve met someone with the Goldfield name.” Alex remarked. “He plays chess and hangs out with this other noble called Elliot Harkaw.”

“What an honour! You must have met the Prime Scion.” The old man brightened.

“Prime Scion? You mean the heir to the Goldfield family?”

“Partially, a Prime Scion is only the most likely to become the heir to a noble family’s fortune. Other Scions can still surpass the Prime.”

Alex hummed. He closed the door to the bell tower and walked to the child, the old man put himself between him and the child. Alex smirked and easily moved the man to the side, and he loomed over the kid.

“What are you looking at me like that?” Alex questioned while looking at those ruby eyes.

“You are odd, your friends are odd like you.” Hema said, her eyes flashing crimson. “Why are you odd.”

His facial expression froze and his eyes sharpened. This fucking kid was awakened, that was a certainty. Her family must have taught her some perception skill that can catch the ‘odd’ in him and his clones. And why did it have to be a child, at least he could negotiate with an adult, but a child would just spill it the moment he turned his back.

No, it wasn’t bad, yet. She didn’t figure out that he had clones, just that they were similarly odd.

“Alright, I am odd.” Alex reasserted a smile and pointed to a road that led to an army command center. “Why don’t you guys go down that road, it should lead you to somewhere safe. Don’t worry, the whole area has been cleared, no monsters will attack you.”

“Thank you, young man.” The old man said hesitantly and he grabbed into the little girl’s hand.

“And a tip, for saving Hema, get those goods in your tower out of this city. I know a carriage driver who can do that for you.” The old man's gaze sharpened, delving into Alex’s soul, finding something unpalatable. “But I can’t assure you escape from the prisons of sin.”

“How the fu- “

“Bye odd man with odd friends.” Hema waved at him and dragged the old man with her. Alex bit his lips at the words the man had said. At least he was on his side, and probably won’t rat him out to the nobles. He was right though, the moment the nobles came back from wherever they hid, then they would instantly go on a rampage looking for their valuable stuff.

He entered the bell tower, and from the size of the hoard, he would definitely need a carriage for it. Alex rummaged amongst the stacks and stacks of wealth, ripping out a chess board and set from it. He fitted the pieces into their places and took the chair with the white player. Alex let his hand hover the king’s pawn, then sighed.

There was no one to play with. With a twist and twitch, Alex forced out a clone, an immediate dizziness assaulted his senses and a bone-crushing amount of tiredness invaded him. He withstood it and watched as his clone sat on the black pieces chair.

“Are you so bored you would summon us for a chess game? And even surpass your own self-imposed limit?” The snark on the clone was hard, and they both knew that he was right.

This whole dynamic with his clones lit up a bit of recognition in him, and that is the utter berating he gave himself daily. Now his clones berated him, snarked at him, poked at his weaknesses. It was their weakness to, they played with barbed wire.

“I am bored, and there is nothing to do with all my clones busy.” Alex gritted and moved the king’s pawn two paces.

“You don’t think they will succeed.”

“I….I don’t think I could do it honestly, and if I can’t, how can they?”

“That clone, the one we turned to smoke out of anger, he was right.” The black king’s pawn moved to match the white pawn. “We aren’t all you, Alex. I am not you Alex, the moment you made me I became different than you. We are living different lives, different experiences, different sides of the same coin.”

Alexander breathed in and out, and moved his king’s knight to attack the black pawn. He knew that his clone was right, he knew it. His time here in the clock tower wasn’t wasted in revelling in his newfound wealth, but it was spent in contemplation of his actions. The anger that made him irrationally erase his clone, that weakness that held him at the time. That weakness was authority, and how he had to uphold it.

His clones were him, yet not. They evolved into other people the more they went outside and fought. They grew from the hardships they faced, while he stayed in the safety of this tower, doing nothing and improving in nothing. They would challenge his authority, not in its entirety, as his gift assured him of a small piece of control, yet they could grasp pieces of it.

How would he compete against himself but better, more experienced, wizened? How could he? He would be a lesser, inferior man to them. And he would be just a craven stupid boy if he deleted them, greater men than he.

“How can you keep up?” The clone said, reading his mind. He moved the bishop to check. “I don’t know, but what about not fighting?”

“Not fighting?”

“Be the diplomat, grow from interaction. Battle isn’t the only challenger of the mind.”

Alex block with his own bishop. Perhaps he was right, battle wasn’t the only way to become a better person. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t have any friends, nor did he ever have more than one. All the time he blamed it on caring for his mother, more and more though it became clear that he was just shrouding the true purpose under a shallow veil.

He didn’t go out to meet friends, he went out to do stuff, not to socialize nor to have fun. He was all business and no fun, a one-track mind pushing the practical and forgoing the emotional. He was alone in this world, not because fate or Mercy said so, but because he wanted it to be.

“You are right, I need to socialize with people other than myself.” Alex smiled at his clone and gestured to the chess board. “Should we finish this?”

Out of twenty rounds, they tied nineteen games, with one win for Alex.

The black pieces clone dispersed into smoke and Alex massaged his scalp. He returned the pieces to their original positions and rose from his chair. Climbing the ladder to the top of the bell tower, Alex had a wonderful view of the city.

Tatalica was its name, the city was founded not so long ago, subsuming the local population of shepherds and farmers to fuel its ever-growing population. The walls projected safety, a commodity scarce in these lands.

Tatalica was on a continent shaped like an arrow head with a giant lake at the center of it. It was situated on the bottom portion of the arrowhead, with it being equally distant from the lake and the ocean. It was housed in the Garah Empire, in the old tongue it translated into the Empire of Good. Tatalica also had a meaning, yet the books he found weren’t dictionaries.

Alexander stared as a sphere of red exploded from the center of the city and fizzled out before it could do any damage. In his limb, he felt the ability to summon clones increase, and Alexander gave a mournful farewell to those who battled and succeeded.

He brought up his book, and let the experience, accumulated over this whole disaster, seep in.

[Swordsmanship, Level 55 -> 90]

[Physical Conditioning, Level 60 -> 95]

[Natural Healing, Level 22 -> 43]

[Battle Flow, Level 17 -> 49]

[Leadership, Level 9 - > 42]

[Marksmanship, Level 8 -> 46]

[Singular Focus, Level 17 -> 67]

[Last Hurraw, Level 24 -> 68]

[Solid Footwork, Level 14 -> 47]

[Basic Disguise, Level 1 -> 19]

[Shield Proficiency, Level 8 -> 50]