Ch 201.

  Days slipped by as Matt’s two true selves alternated their forays into the dungeon, sharing tales of their encounters only after the second had successfully navigated through each level. Although they faced what appeared to be identical challenges, subtle differences colored their experiences. On the level 66 floor, each of them spent the entire day traversing the rugged mountains, battling Yeti-like creatures that charged at them with the ferocity of raging berserkers. While these beasts proved to be time-consuming adversaries, they posed little real threat to Matt. Instead, the more pressing danger lay in the environment itself, which grew increasingly frigid. The biting cold sapped his stamina with every passing moment, making it difficult to muster the energy needed for combat as he neared the final confrontation. To make matters worse, the door leading to the next level was encased in a thick layer of ice, a formidable barrier that left him convinced he had no choice but to emerge victorious in battle before he could proceed.

  This fight thrust him into a brutal clash with a massive ice elemental, whose movements mirrored the frenzied intensity of the Yetis. The creature lunged and swirled with a relentless ferocity, leaving Matt no opportunity to catch his breath throughout the entire encounter. Had he not taken the time to rest and recover before this battle, he might have declared it more challenging than the previous boss. However, invigorated and in peak condition, Matt found himself navigating the fight with surprising ease. If the elemental had wielded an ethereal cold or some other intangible force, he could have faced significant trouble, as he was ill-equipped to combat anything incorporeal. Nevertheless, a flicker of confidence surged within him; he felt assured that the dungeon would never pit him against an enemy he had no means to defeat, as that would be patently unfair. After all, he was irrevocably bound to this solitary path, unable to depend on others for support within its treacherous depths.

  Upon completing that level, Matt found himself staring at a stark transformation: the rugged mountains had given way to towering volcanoes on the next floor. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he pondered whether he had inadvertently complicated his journey by avoiding combat with incorporeal enemies. This contemplation consumed him during the brief interlude between levels, prompting him to dedicate his time to developing a new skill that might yield the desired results. He had managed to intertwine elements of time, fate, and hope into a single technique, but uncertainty gnawed at him—he had no way of knowing if this strike would prove effective in battle. Still, it was better than feeling utterly unprepared. After both versions of himself successfully navigated the treacherous lava floor, they agreed to engage in a sparring session, eager to share their insights and refine their strategies for the challenges that lay ahead.

  The fight had devolved into a complete stalemate, with neither Matt able to gain a decisive advantage over the other. Any attempt they made to outmaneuver or overpower one another resulted in equal counterattacks, rendering their efforts futile. If either of them managed to land a lethal blow, it would only lead to both of their demises, a grim realization that loomed heavily over them. This peculiar bond was further complicated by the fact that they were continually piecing together their understanding of one another, albeit with a delay that stretched across the moments when their avatars were dormant. Each time their puppets rested, insights and strategies exchanged between them, reinforcing the notion that they were essentially two halves of the same whole. This truth heightened the urgency to protect at least one of their current puppets from death; losing one would mean losing the other. It was through the trials of one of their puppets that they first tested their newly developed attack.

  One of the smaller puppets, left behind to keep watch over his mother, was the first to find an opportunity for said test. He wasn’t alone in this vigil; Matt sensed that others were observing her as well, primarily searching for him. Among these onlookers was one who had the peculiar ability to conjure harmless spirits, no larger than mice, which seemed designed solely for reconnaissance. Matt’s puppets had been detected by these tiny scouts on multiple occasions before their creator appeared, intent on eliminating them. Fortunately, Matt’s puppets were nimble and always devised escape plans that fully utilized their diminutive size. They could even shed mass, shrinking down to the size of a grape or smaller when necessary, prioritizing their survival above all else. It was a strategic choice, as they knew it would only take a few hours to regain their preferred size of a baseball, even if their stats would then reflect just one percent of the peak capabilities of a C-ranked Matt.

  Despite their diminutive forms, they retained access to all of B-ranked Matt’s essences and skills, which they intended to employ with their new attack option to confront the prying eyes monitoring Matt’s mother. The maneuver itself appeared deceptively simple—a swift punch followed by the spy seemingly disintegrating into thin air. However, the reality was far more intricate; the observer had sacrificed a fragment of its own soul to manifest the tiny spirit spy. From the perspective of Matt’s puppet, his time essence ensnared the spirit, freezing it in place without its awareness. Simultaneously, his hope essence enveloped his entire being, while his fate essence dictated that the spirit's existence would culminate upon the impact of his punch. The culmination of this carefully orchestrated attack resulted in the tiny spirit appearing to evaporate at the moment of contact, leaving Matt’s puppet grinning with satisfaction, fully aware that the strike had proven effective.

  Questions swirled in their minds, especially since the spirit they had destroyed was exceptionally weak, yet its demise had seemingly sent its controller into a panic. In the aftermath, Matt’s puppets found themselves needing to conceal their presence more diligently. Although the tiny spirits had vanished, other observers emerged, drawn by the disturbance. These new watchers appeared to be receiving instructions from the creator of the tiny spirit, leading Matt's puppets to conclude that they had inadvertently provoked a response. Nevertheless, by altering their behaviors and adopting more cautious strategies, they managed to evade immediate danger. However, this constant need for vigilance made it increasingly challenging to keep tabs on Matt’s mother.

  That was only a minor concern for either Matt as they continued to plunge deeper into the dungeon, overcoming the trials of the level 68 floor, a dense forest teeming with wood elemental monsters. It was then that the long-awaited moment finally arrived; one of his puppets sprinted toward him, as it spotted a raft bobbing in the distance. Onboard were two familiar figures: Rose and Spencer. As for what to expect from Spencer, Matt knew he shared the same B rank as himself, but he also suspected that Spencer possessed an enhanced skill that would prove invaluable in the imminent battle. Although Matt's stats might have been superior, he understood that raw numbers weren't everything. The presence of Rose weighed heavily on his mind, as she was the primary reason he feared his plans could unravel at any moment.

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  Sighing at the reality that his other self was still at least six hours away from joining him in the fight, Matt steeled himself for the inevitable sacrifice he would have to make. Determined to ensure that his sacrifice would carry weight, he signaled all of his clones to sprint toward the far side of the island. There, they would rendezvous with the enormous octopus, partially controlled by several of his puppets, ready to unleash their combined might. Their destination was the island that had been designated as a prison island by the clone currently overseeing Louie’s training. No matter what obstacles lay ahead, Matt understood that he needed to neutralize the threat posed by Spencer before Apricity’s group could arrive and complicate matters further.

  With this resolve in mind, Matt approached Radoznaormr’s anchor. “So, what can you tell me?” he asked, urgency lacing his voice.

  “Only that Rose is under a compulsion at this point,” Radoznaormr replied gravely. “As she is still C rank and he is B rank, all the effort she has put into breaking free and assisting you in this fight has been rendered futile.”

  “Is there any way I can break it?” Matt pressed, desperation creeping into his tone.

  “Die,” Radoznaormr responded, his voice echoing with chilling finality. “That is the only endpoint at which her compulsion will flip, and he will never be able to use his skill on her again.”

  Matt's brow furrowed at Radoznaormr’s words, a heavy realization settling in his chest: Spencer would likely need to kill Rose to prevent her from seeking vengeance, a grim possibility he had already factored into his plans. Despite this unsettling truth, it didn’t alter much; he activated his skill to glimpse the threads of the future once more. The visions that unfolded before him confirmed his fears—there was no way to save both of his true selves and Rose without venturing into perilous territory. All he could do now was cling to hope, trusting that his skill, though limited, would guide him through the chaos.

  After what felt like an eternity, roughly an hour since his puppet had warned him, two figures finally emerged on the horizon, making their way toward Matt. One appeared utterly miserable, shoulders slumped and expression drawn, while the other wore a smug grin at the sight of Matt waiting for them. Their disheveled clothing bore the marks of hardship, evidence of the trials they had endured on the tumultuous ocean. Yet, as they closed the distance, Matt noted that they had at least taken a moment to regain their composure before confronting him.

  Spencer broke the silence first, his voice dripping with condescension. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to just die and make this easy? This little lady has already told me that you’ve been waiting for us. Something about her path requiring her to be truthful and endure any struggles without wavering.”

  “Sorry, but before we begin, I suppose it’s time to address one thing,” Matt replied, his tone steady as he made the choice to expel Rose from Scattered Stars. He watched her expression nearly crumble at the notification, eyes wide with disbelief. “Sorry, Rose. While I do care for you, regardless of the reasons why, you have become my enemy, and once this fight is over, I never intend to involve myself with you again.”

  “Please, not like this,” Rose pleaded, desperation lacing her voice. “I know that—”

  “That’s enough!” Spencer interjected sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Do as I have instructed and prepare for battle. I forbid you from speaking until it’s over.”

  With that, Rose darted to the side, and Matt surged forward, charging directly at Spencer. A smug grin spread across Spencer's face as he raised his hands, summoning the sand that had blanketed the beach moments before. In an instant, the battlefield transformed into a swirling sandstorm that obscured visibility and dulled Matt’s senses. Although the storm inflicted minimal physical damage, it rendered him nearly blind. Yet, this was not enough to deter him; fueled by a blend of hope and fate, he activated a skill that propelled him toward Spencer. Their limbs collided—Matt’s blade-like arms clashing against Spencer’s stone-covered appendages. Initially, Matt felt a surge of confidence, believing he had the upper hand. However, Spencer swiftly countered, destabilizing the ground beneath him with relentless shifts that threatened to topple Matt's footing.

  While this tactic wasn’t sufficient to defeat him outright, it effectively thwarted Matt's attempts to land any decisive blows. Still, Matt caught a glimpse of concern flickering in Spencer's eyes, a fleeting crack in his facade. That moment of vulnerability shattered when Matt felt the sharp sting of Rose’s blade piercing through his back, sliding cruelly into the space where his heart should have been. He could hear her muffled sobs, a haunting sound that echoed in the chaos, yet he understood she was powerless to speak or control her own actions. In that moment, she resembled a marionette more than the fierce combatant she once was, her tears likely the only outlet for the turmoil she felt.

  Reacting instinctively, Matt spun around, grasping her tightly as he leaped away from Spencer. With a swift motion, he yanked the sword from his body and hurled it far into the ocean, watching it disappear beneath the waves. He knew this act would be a significant loss for Rose, but it was a sacrifice necessary for his greater strategy. Turning his gaze to her, he noticed her frantic struggle against his hold, and as his wounds began to seal, he leaned close, speaking softly so only she could hear. “If I am the one who dies, flee into the dungeon and don’t come out for at least a few days. Let him think that you died in there and forget about me and the others as you forge your own path from here.”

  Rose's face was a mask of devastation as her struggles intensified, and Matt let out a heavy sigh as he propelled her closer to the entrance of the dungeon. He felt the sharp impacts of tiny bullets of earth slamming into his body, each one a stinging reminder of the danger they faced. The makeshift armor he wore, cobbled together from scraps, offered little protection; it was clear that Spencer had mastered the art of inflicting lethal damage while minimizing his own risk. Despite this, Matt redirected some of the more painful hits back towards Spencer, particularly those aimed at critical areas that could hinder his movement.

  Yet, Rose’s desperate assault and his hasty retreat with her had cost him the crucial opening he needed to seize victory in this battle. Even though sacrificing that opportunity had been part of his strategy, a bitter taste lingered in his mouth as he fought against the relentless storm of earth projectiles. To anyone observing closely, it would have been evident that he was also shielding Rose from the onslaught, positioning himself to absorb any incoming attacks that might have struck her if he had evaded them.

  “You’re such a fool,” Spencer spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “If you had simply killed her, as we both know you could have done without a second thought, this fight would have been yours. Even now, you protect her, but she will die regardless. I can wait for her to leave the dungeon for months if I need to.”

  Matt remained silent, his health points steadily draining away. He had one last thing to accomplish before his inevitable demise, but uncertainty gnawed at him—he wasn’t sure if he could pull it off.