Volume 01, Chapter 18

  Stargate Training [3]

  Stepping through the gates of the pink cloud castle, I’m met with… nothing.

  “Odd…” I murmur, my voice barely breaking the silence.

  The vast interior stretches out before me, an endless expanse of pink mist and glowing vapor. No sign of life. No sound except for the faint hum of the clouds beneath my boots. It feels wrong—this place is too quiet.

  There has to be more here.

  I tread cautiously through the castle, my eyes scanning every corner for signs of the Alpha. The walls and floors seem to shift and ripple, as though alive, but still, nothing appears. My frustration grows.

  -Fwoosh!

  A sudden gust of wind brushes past me, carrying a strange, almost melodic whisper. I follow it, drawn deeper into the heart of the castle. Soon, I step into a vast chamber, its center dominated by a swirling mass of pink clouds.

  The mist churns and spirals, thickening until it begins to take shape. A figure emerges—kneeling, head bowed, features obscured. My heart skips a beat as the details sharpen.

  Blonde hair. Slim build. Familiarity stabs at my chest.

  No… It couldn’t be. Could it?

  The figure rises slowly, lifting its head. My breath catches when I see his face.

  “Arthur?”

  No, it’s not possible. It just looks like him. But why does this replica feel so unnervingly real? There are plenty of blonde-haired people in Verdant Haven, but the green eyes staring back at me are unmistakable.

  I instinctively raise my guns, aiming at the figure.

  -Bang! Bang!

  -Clank! Clank!

  The bullets strike something invisible mid-air, ricocheting harmlessly away. A shield. Of course.

  The figure tilts its head, his gaze piercing and unreadable. Then, with a sudden gust of wind, he vanishes.

  !?

  I sense danger. Without thinking, I dive to the side, narrowly avoiding the glowing blade that slashes through the space where I’d just stood.

  Rolling to my feet, I spin around to face my attacker. My hunch is confirmed.

  “Arthur” stands there, his face blank and emotionless, wielding a sword of light that hums with raw energy. He moves with eerie grace, his every motion calculated and swift.

  This isn’t Arthur. It can’t be.

  Did the Alpha dig into my memories and create this facsimile to throw me off? If so, it worked. My chest tightens as I stare at the doppelg?nger.

  But there’s no time to dwell on it. “Arthur” charges.

  I fire a volley of shots, hoping to keep him at bay.

  -Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

  -Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!

  The light sword slices through the bullets with terrifying precision, each slash so fluid it’s as though he’s dancing. Then, just as quickly as he appears, he’s gone again.

  Damn it.

  My eyes dart around the chamber, searching for any sign of movement. He could be anywhere, and I have no idea where he’ll strike next.

  !

  I roll aside just in time to avoid another lightning-fast attack.

  This mimic of Arthur isn’t just fast—it’s relentless.

  Charging head-on isn’t working. I need a new plan.

  This fake Arthur is different from the real one. While the real Arthur excels in balancing ranged and close combat, this copy seems heavily focused on melee attacks. A weakness, perhaps? But if that’s true, why isn’t it pursuing me more aggressively?

  “Avalon’s Blast,” the figure intones in a monotone voice, shattering my theory.

  Three orbs of glowing light materialize around him, their brightness swelling ominously. A split second later, they transform into piercing beams, hurtling toward me.

  -Bling!

  I leap out of the way, narrowly avoiding the searing projectiles. The heat from the blasts grazes my skin, a reminder of how close I was to being vaporized.

  -Boom!

  The beams strike the cloud floor, erupting in violent bursts. The force sends me stumbling, and I barely regain my footing before the mimic charges, his light sword poised for a killing blow.

  Desperate, I raise my guns to block the strike.

  -Clank!

  “Ugh!”

  The impact is brutal, the sheer force of the blow sending me hurtling backward into a wall. Fortunately, the cloud-like structure cushions the collision. If it had been anything solid, I’d probably be dealing with shattered ribs—or worse.

  But there’s no time to breathe.

  -Shing!

  I sense the danger and roll again, narrowly avoiding a blade aimed for my neck. As I rise, the mimic’s foot slams into my chest with the force of a freight train.

  “Gah!" The hit sends me sprawling, every nerve in my body screaming as I skid across the ground. My ribs feel like they’ve been cracked, and the sharp pain makes it difficult to breathe.

  “Hah... hah...” I clutch my stomach, struggling to inhale, the air refusing to fill my lungs. My vision swims, and for a fleeting moment, I think this might be it.

  But the fight isn’t over. The mimic doesn’t allow it to be.

  Before I can recover, he’s already looming over me, his glowing sword raised high, gleaming with the promise of pain. The blade plunges downward, and I can’t move fast enough to stop it.

  “AGH!”

  The sword pierces my right shoulder, a white-hot agony ripping through me. It feels like my entire arm is on fire, the pain radiating through every nerve. My vision blurs with tears as I grit my teeth against the unbearable sensation.

  “Kuh!”

  A guttural gasp escapes me, the raw intensity of the injury leaving me lightheaded. My legs buckle, but I force myself to remain upright. Giving in now would mean death.

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  The mimic steps back, his expression blank and unreadable. Yet his posture—calm and calculating—suggests a cruel anticipation, as if savoring my suffering.

  My shoulder screams in protest, but I fight through the pain, dragging myself to my feet. My hand trembles as I raise my guns again. Blood seeps down my arm, but I lock my focus on him.

  This isn’t over.

  Desperation sharpens my aim. I won’t go down without a fight.

  -Bang! Bang!

  The bullets fly, desperate and imprecise, more a plea for survival than a calculated attack. But the impostor Arthur deflects them with a flick of his light sword, each motion as smooth and effortless as a predator toying with its prey.

  This isn’t a fight—it’s a nightmare. He counters my every move as though he’s a step ahead, reading my thoughts before I’ve even made them.

  With my shoulder screaming in agony and my range of motion restricted, I stumble back, trying to create distance, trying to think. But the mimic doesn’t relent.

  -Shing! Shing! Shing!

  The air vibrates with each slash of his sword, its edges grazing dangerously close. His speed is unreal, his movements inhuman, even for a world steeped in magic.

  Another slash misses me by a hair, the displaced air grazing my cheek like a whispered reminder of death. Beneath me, the clouds churn and swirl, as though reflecting the chaos of this impossible battle.

  I fire again in desperation, hoping for anything, anything to catch him off guard.

  -Bang! Bang! Bang!

  -Fwoosh!

  It’s useless. He blinks out of existence, then reappears beside me in a flash, his sword already aimed for the kill.

  !

  Instinct takes over, and I throw myself to the ground, rolling away just as the blade slices through where I’d been standing. The movement sends spikes of agony through my shoulder, each roll threatening to rob me of my focus.

  But I can’t stop. Surrender is death.

  Scrambling to my feet, I force myself to think. Brute force won’t work. Every attempt to overpower him has failed, his speed and precision too much to match head-on.

  I need to be smarter.

  I take a steadying breath, forcing my heartbeat to slow. Pain gnaws at me, fear claws at the edges of my resolve, but I focus past them. The impostor Arthur stands motionless momentarily, sword glinting, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he charges again, his movements almost a blur.

  This time, I’m ready.

  Feigning weakness, I lean heavily on my uninjured side, lowering my guns just enough to bait him. My breathing grows shallow, my posture slack, as though I’m moments from collapse.

  He takes the bait.

  As he lunges forward, I wait until the last second before sidestepping, twisting my body to let his momentum carry him past me.

  “Haa!”

  With every ounce of strength I can muster, I shove him forward. He stumbles, his balance faltering as he slams into the shifting wall of clouds.

  It’s the opening I’ve been waiting for.

  Ignoring the screaming protest of my injuries, I lunge forward, my guns raised for a point-blank shot.

  -Bang! Bang!

  To my disbelief, he dodges even at this range, twisting his body with an unnatural grace. The shots whistle harmlessly past him. I freeze, stunned by his impossible reflexes.

  That hesitation costs me.

  His counterattack comes in a blur—a devastating kick to my chest that feels like being hit by a battering ram.

  “Ugh!”

  I’m thrown back, the force of the impact driving the air from my lungs. I hit the cloud floor hard, the soft surface doing little to soften the jarring pain that spreads through my battered body.

  “Hahahahaha!”

  The laugh is chilling, wrong in every way. It echoes around me, an eerie mockery of the Arthur I know. The sound sends a shiver down my spine, cutting through the haze of pain like a blade.

  Struggling to my feet, gasping for breath, I know one thing with absolute certainty: I can’t win this head-on. His speed, precision, and raw power—everything about this mimic is designed to overwhelm me.

  But I’ve come too far to give up now.

  With trembling hands, I raise my guns again, determination burning through the exhaustion. If brute force won’t work, I’ll have to find another way.

  I need space—a moment to breathe and think. Retreating isn’t cowardice; it’s survival. A tactical pause to recalibrate and strike back with precision.

  With a plan forming, I aim my guns—not at the impostor Arthur, but at the cloud floor beneath us.

  -Bang! Bang!

  The bullets tear through the soft pink surface, releasing a dense mist that blankets the area. Taking advantage of the sudden cover, I dart away, my movements masked by the swirling haze.

  “Hah… hah…”

  My breaths come ragged as I press my back against the cool, shifting wall of the cloud castle. The pink mist offers a fragile sanctuary, the momentary quiet allowing my racing mind to focus.

  “I need to counter his speed...” I mutter, frustration boiling beneath the pain.

  Then it hits me. Speed.

  My fingers fumble in my pocket until they close around the smooth, golden surface of the Chrono Pendant. Its weight feels heavier than usual, almost humming with untapped energy.

  This artifact could turn the tide. But… how do I activate it?

  -Fwoosh!

  My thoughts are cut short as the hairs on my neck stand on end. Instinct screams at me to move.

  Dropping to a crouch, I roll just as the impostor’s light sword cleaves through the mist where I had been standing. My heart sinks as his figure emerges from the dissipating fog, his green eyes locking onto mine.

  He’s found me.

  Pinned against the wall, clutching the Chrono Pendant, I feel the walls of desperation closing in. My time is running out.

  “Avalon’s Blast,” he intones, his voice cold and lifeless.

  Three shimmering orbs materialize at his side, quickly elongating into glowing beams of pure energy. I hurl myself to the side as they streak toward me.

  -Boom!

  The blasts annihilate a chunk of the cloud floor, the shockwave sending me sprawling. The heat from the near-miss sears my skin, a painful reminder of how close I came to being obliterated.

  -Fwoosh!

  Before I can recover, he’s on me again, his light sword moving faster than my eyes can track.

  “Agh!”

  The blade pierces my shoulder with surgical precision. Pain blossoms, white-hot and searing, radiating down my arm in relentless waves. My vision swims as I bite back a scream.

  “Hahahaha!”

  His laugh echoes, cruel and mocking. He withdraws the sword slowly, savoring my suffering. I collapse to my knees, clutching my shoulder as blood seeps between my fingers. My strength is waning, and the edge of his glowing blade looms above me, ready to deliver the final blow.

  I glance at the Chrono Pendant in my trembling hand, a desperate idea forming.

  “A-Activate!” I shout, my voice a mix of pain and panic.

  -Tick-tock.

  A deep, resonant ticking fills the air. Suddenly, the world shifts.

  I open my eyes to an astonishing sight. The impostor Arthur, his sword descending in a deadly arc, moves as if caught in syrup. Time itself has slowed, the edge of his blade creeping toward me at an excruciatingly slow pace.

  The Chrono Pendant pulses warmly in my palm, its golden surface alive with soft, rhythmic light. Relief and determination flood my mind. This is my chance.

  Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I crawl out of his sword’s path and rise unsteadily to my feet. My hands tremble as I raise my gun, aiming directly at his head.

  -Bang!

  The red-tinged bullet pierces his skull, its impact jerking his head back. For a moment, he stands frozen, his expression shifting to one of surprise—and sorrow.

  “Doms… why?” he whispers, his voice hauntingly familiar. It’s Arthur’s voice, filled with betrayal and heartbreak.

  The mimic’s form wavers, dissolving into a swirl of pink clouds. As the last wisps fade, a single pink orb floats gently where he stood, shimmering with an eerie beauty.

  I lower my gun, my chest heaving as exhaustion drags me to the cloud floor. Clutching my shoulder, I stare at the orb, my mind swimming with a cocktail of emotions—pain, relief, and unease.

  It was a trick. Just an illusion designed to exploit my heart. But the ache in my chest lingers, and I can’t shake the echo of his voice.

  “Hah… hah…”

  The fight is over, but its toll is clear. I glance at the pink orb, knowing it’s just the beginning. Whatever lies ahead will only be harder.

  For now, I allow myself a moment to breathe.

  The message from the System flashes before me, and I let out a long, shaky breath. It’s over. The battle is finally over.

  “Great job defeating the Alpha, Dominic.”

  Andre’s voice pulls me from my relief. I look up to see him striding toward me with a proud smile. His confident presence instantly grounds me, the chaos of the fight fading into the background.

  “Here, take this.”

  He tosses a small glass vial my way. I catch it, my fingers barely steady, and uncork it. The healing potion’s cool liquid slides down my throat, and a soothing warmth spreads through my body. The pain in my shoulder ebbs, replaced by a gentle tingling as the wound knits itself closed.

  “Better?” Andre asks, his voice calm but firm, like a father checking on his son after a hard-fought victory.

  I nod, flexing my arm experimentally. “Much better. Thanks.”

  His attention shifts to the glowing pink orb lying amidst the dissipating cloud floor. Picking it up, he turns it over in his hands, studying it with a discerning eye.

  “An [E]-ranked orb,” he muses. “Not bad. This will fetch a decent price in the market.”

  He looks back at me, his sharp gaze softening. “Come on. Let’s head back home. You’ve earned some rest.”

  As he approaches, his eyes fall to my torn and bloodstained attire.

  -Rip!

  Before I can react, Andre grabs the remnants of my makeshift bandage and the tattered fabric of my shirt, tearing them away swiftly.

  “You can’t walk around Aurelior looking like this,” he says matter-of-factly, shaking his head. “Verdant Haveners are particular about appearances. It’s one of the first things they notice—and judge.”

  I glance down at my exposed torso, the faint marks of the now-healed wound still visible. He’s right, of course. Appearances matter here, and I’ve already attracted enough attention without looking like I crawled out of a battlefield.

  “Understood,” I reply, grateful for his pragmatism. Despite his sharp demeanor, there’s an unspoken care in his actions—a reminder that he’s not just a mentor, but someone who genuinely looks out for me.

  With the pink orb safely in his grasp and my body no longer screaming in pain, we begin our journey back. The fight may be over, but as we walk, I can’t shake the weight of what lies ahead. In this world, every victory feels like just one step toward the next challenge.

  But for now, I let myself enjoy the quiet pride in Andre’s voice and the fleeting peace of the aftermath.