The onlookers watching the fight were ecstatic.
Although they hadn't expected it to be much more than a one-sided beatdown, it had far surpassed everybody's expectations.
Except from a handful.
Selene watched the ongoing fight with increasing annoyance.
Her frown deepened with each blow.
"That's unusual." Erhart commented, most likely to himself.
"Yeah..." Selene's response was similar.
Here they were, rank one and two, intrigued in the fight between rank 123, and rank 21.
How wasn't it a one-sided beatdown.
Nobody could say they had expected the fight to last this long.
It simply wasn't possible, at the very least reasonable.
People didn't wake up one day multiple times stronger, it just didn't happen.
So what were they seeing?
The best explanation that most people would go for is usually the assumption that the stronger contender is holding back, but Deon was visibly tired, and Aren, although definitely still tired, was far less tired than Deon was.
So how?
It just wasn't real.
But there it was, undeniable and incredibly real.
Aren wasn't just surviving, he was winning.
The disturbing mana that Selene had sensed a few days ago was nowhere to be seen, and in its place was almost perfectly controlled, pure mana. The kind you would see in advertisements.
How did a 16 year old have such good mana control?
As far as she was aware, nobody, not even Erhart, should have such good mana control.
So who was he?
She started mentally logging possible options.
Was he of a different race?
Was he some kind of demi-god? A few had appeared in the past, and some were strong enough to build the foundation of the country.
No, it just wouldn't align with his information.
So what else?
Maybe an uncover cop? Teacher?
That would make a little more sense, but still wasn't a viable assumption.
Maybe he was holding back?
Of everything she had thought of so far, that seemed the most likely.
He seemed to get along with everybody in his dorm, as far as she could tell, so maybe he intentionally held back to be in the same dorm as them?
That had to be it.
There was no other explanation for this.
Right?
Yeah
The fight was starting to reach what was looking like it's conclusion.
Aren had a ball of mana in his hand?
Why?
Was he... compressing it?
Oh.
If he wasn't able to physically harm Deon, then that seemed like a viable approach.
It required pretty acute control, but he'd already displayed he can do that.
It was pretty reasonable on paper.
But it working in a real combat scenario was an entirely different question.
In the moment that Selene started consider the pros and cons of his plan, she noticed something.
A faint purple hint in his mana.
B Rank?
At rank 123?
At the age of 16?
Of everyone in the school, the only two she had known to use mana of that level were her, Erhart, Julian, and Jonah.
Although it took him an amount of time that he would never realistically get, he had formed a ball of mana at the rank of B regardless.
That in itself was an achievement.
She watched him condense the ball one more time, and blast it at Deon.
She half expected Deon to dodge, but she knew that wasn't the case.
Spells at the rank of B could move up to dozens of times faster than sound, and it even though it wasn't a spell, and wasn't fully B rank, it still wouldn't be feasible for Deon to dodge.
The attack landed, and Deon's body seemed to have went limp.
To the amazement of the crowd, both fighters stopped moving at identical times.
Although Selene knew better.
They were currently in a desperate bid to stay conscious, and even from her perspective, she couldn't guarantee who would win here.
After about 20 seconds of this brutal standoff, a knee hit the floor, followed by the loud thud of an unconscious body.
And less than a twentieth of a second later, the second body fell flat.
Aren had lost.
He had lost by technical incapacitation. And it wasn't even a quarter of a second difference.
"Who won?" The crowd seemed to shout in unison.
An endless chatter broke out, the general consensus seemed to be that Aren had won, that he had beat everyone who hadn't believed in him.
"He lost." Selene stood up, declaring proudly.
Erhart seemed to be too enthralled by what he had seen to even look up.
"What do you mean? Who lost?" A random in the crowd shouted back.
They wouldn't take it well but she had to say it anyway.
"Aren lost, he fell just a moment before Deon." She responded, much to the dismay of the crowd.
A large booing erupted from the crowd, echoing off the walls of the huge building.
It happens.
Although nobody expected Aren to do well, when he did do well, people expected him to go above and beyond.
But sometimes, that just wasn't possible.
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I woke up to the smell of antiseptic.
Again.
I was starting to get really sick of this smell.
I stared up at the familiar white ceiling tiles, counting the water stains I hadn't noticed the last time I was here.
What happened?
The memories flooded back in a rush along with a skull-breaking headache. The fight. Deon. The audience. The exhaustion that felt like someone had pulled the plug on my life support.
I sat up, expecting the rest of my body to scream in protest. It did, but it was a dull, numbing ache rather than the sharp agony of broken bones. Just mana exhaustion then.
"System," I croaked. My throat felt like I'd swallowed sandpaper and sawdust.
[Emergency Quest: Failed]
Fuck.
[Points available: 150]
I let my head fall back against the pillow with a thud. I wasn't angry about losing the chance of top 100. I didn't even care about the number next to my name.
I was angry because my calculation was off.
My mind knew exactly how to win. My experience knew exactly how to dismantle him. But this body… this weak ass hardware couldn't keep up with the software I was trying to run on it.
It was a wake-up call. Techniques meant nothing if the fuel tank ran dry before the finish line.
[However…]
The system window flickered, expanding a little more.
[Performance Evaluation: Exceeded Expectations (Grade B)]
[Audience Reaction: Shock/Awe]
[1,402 people are questioning your ranking.]
[700 Points Awarded.]
[Current Points: 850]
I blinked.
850 points?
That was… substantial.
It seemed that proving people wrong was almost as lucrative as blowing up buildings. And legally safer, too.
I swung my legs off the bed. I was still in my gym uniform, though it was scorched and torn in places.
"Leaving already?"
I looked up. The nurse—the same one as before—was standing by the door with a clipboard. She didn't look surprised, just resigned.
"I'm fine," I said, testing my weight on my legs. They held. "Just tired."
"Your mana circuits were completely drained. You were running on fumes for the last five minutes of that fight. If you weren't so stubborn, you would have passed out long before he did." She shook her head, signing something on her paper. "You're free to go. But try not to make this a weekly habit, Aren."
Although she said that in a scolding tone, she had a slight smirk on her face.
"No promises."
I walked out of the infirmary, the hallway quieter than usual. Most students were likely still at the training grounds or heading to the cafeteria to gossip about the upset.
I checked the time.
1:30 PM.
I had the rest of the day.
The weekend started tomorrow, but technically, since I was "injured," I was excused from afternoon classes.
Perfect.
I turned the corner toward the exit, my already considering the the quickest route to the dungeon, when a figure stepped out from the wall, blocking my path.
Black hair. Piercing red eyes that seemed to shine purple at times.. Arms crossed.
Selene.
I suppressed a sigh. Of course.
"You lost," she said. No hello. No 'are you okay.' Just the cruel reality.
"I heard," I replied, not breaking my stride. I tried to step around her, but she side-stepped to block me again.
"By 0.04 seconds." She stared at me, her eyes searching for something on my face. "You shouldn't have been able to stand for half that fight. Your physical stats are average. Your mana capacity is slightly above average. But your control…"
0.04?
We couldn't be fucking serious.
By that thin a margin?
She took a step closer. The air around her grew heavy.
"That wasn't the control of a student. You compressed a mana ball to near B-Rank stability while dodging a berserk student 100 ranks higher. Who are you?"
[An important character is suspicious of your identity.]
[+250 Points.]
[Points available: 1100]
I paused.
I could very easily lie. I could tell her I practiced really hard. I could tell her it was a fluke that would never happen again.
I knew better.
The B-Rank attempt was above my current capability. I could only drag the B-Rank mana out due to experience in my last life.
But Selene wasn't stupid, and she wouldn't believe that. Or any lie I tried to cook up. And right now, her suspicion was paying my bills.
I met her gaze, managing the poker face I had perfected in my previous life.
"I'm just a guy who hates losing," I said, my voice flat. "Even if it is by 0.04 seconds."
I stepped past her.
She didn't stop me this time.
"I'm watching you, Aren!" she called out as I walked away.
"Join the club," I muttered to myself, just loud enough for her to hear were she still concentrating on me.
I pushed open the heavy double doors of the academy and stepped out into the cool autumn air.
The sun was high, the weather was pleasantly cold. The campus was peaceful.
But the timer in the corner of my vision was ticking down, relentless and cold.
[5 Days Left]
I had my ID. I had my points. And thanks to the entity, I had a new skill I hadn't even tested yet.
It was time to see what [Clone] could actually do.
I started running toward the gate, trying not to go too fast as to trigger the sensors.
Next stop: The Dungeon.
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I had 1100 points. The cost of activating an S-Rank skill was unknown, but I wasn't going to risk wasting time by standing in front of a dungeon entrance and suddenly finding myself broke.
I took a deep breath, focusing on the empty well where my mana usually resided. I needed to pull something from nothing.
"System," I whispered, holding out my left hand—the one still bearing the faint, cold black mark.
[Activate Skill: Cloning (S)]
A cost estimation appeared instantly.
[Cost: 50 Points per hour.]
Not cheap, but manageable. I had 22 hours of operation on tap.
"Accept."
The air around me didn't flare or crackle. There was no theatrical explosion of light. Instead, the atmosphere in the tiny parking lot grew dense, heavy, and impossibly cold, like standing next to a cryogenic tank.
A shadow peeled itself from the ground beside me. It wasn't flat, but three-dimensional, like a cut-out of darkness rising to its feet. It moved with a slow, mechanical precision, assembling bone, muscle, and skin from coalesced gloom.
When the process finished, I stood there.
The Clone was a perfect replica: same gym clothes, same exhausted eyes, same flat expression. It even had the slight tremors in its left hand from the mana drain.
The only difference was the eyes. Where mine were currently dull from lack of sleep, the Clone's eyes were a strange, unsettling silver that reflected no light. It had an immediate sense of... wrongness.
I didn't need to ask if it was functional. I knew it was. The question was, what was inside?
"Speak," I commanded.
The Clone turned its silver eyes toward me. Its voice was mine, but devoid of all inflection.
"I am ready for instruction."
My jaw tightened. Ready for instruction. It wasn't an independent being; it was a sophisticated tool.
"Good. We're going to the dungeon. But first, a test. Try to use your F-Rank Barrier."
I wanted to know if the Clone inherited my stats, my skills, or my crippling lack of control. If it inherited my skill, it would fail.
The Clone raised its hands. A thin, transparent sheet of mana instantly formed, rock solid and utterly perfect.
It was an F-Rank Barrier, flawlessly executed.
I stared. The Clone had my skill, but none of my limitations. It had perfect control.
"System, display Clone Status." I demanded.
[Name: Aren Vale (Clone)
Strength: 3.40 / Agility: 9.19 / Stamina: 3.30 / Mana: 5.52 / Vitality: 3.36 / Potential: ?]
Like the skill had stated, it simply copied the clone with 60% of my stats.
"The barrier is flawless," I acknowledged, frowning. The Clone, with its synthetic perfection, had created a shimmering F-Rank Barrier whereas my own body still produced a messy, sputtering shield.
"I need to know your physical limits." I backed up four paces, my body shifting into a low combat stance. "Clone, engage. Treat this as a test of evasion and defence."
The Clone's silver eyes locked onto me, shifting into my combat stance even better than I could. "Instruction received. Commencing evasion protocol."
I knew its numbers now. Its Agility (9.19) was respectable, even more impressive for a first-year, but it was nothing compared to my hyper-specialized 15.32.
I moved.
It wasn't a blur, but a distinct shift—a spatial distortion that allowed me to cover the distance in a fraction of a second. The Clone's eyes tracked me, but its body was simply too slow to react fully. It made a half-decent attempt at dodging, but there was simply too much of a physical gap.
My fist, imbued with the raw force of my strength, aimed for its centre mass.
The Clone raised an arm, managing to pull off a partial block, but it already was too late.
My blow connected with its ribs, pushing the air out of my own knuckles. The sound was a sharp, brittle crack. The Clone stumbled back violently, its low vitality failing to absorb the full shock. It didn't slide; it nearly collapsed.
I tensed, ready to catch it, terrified of the 65% penalty I would receive.
The Clone wobbled, then rigidly righted itself. Its silver gaze remained impassive.
"Damage sustained," the Clone reported, its voice an unnerving monotone. "Structural integrity maintained. Stamina reserves reduced by 15.3%."
My brow furrowed. 15.3%? One hit consumed over fifteen percent of its already tiny stamina pool. This was not the resilient sandbag the last test suggested. It was a glass doll that moved like a professional.
I had my answer. I could destroy this Clone with three more solid hits, easily. It couldn't evade me, and it couldn't tank me. The only thing keeping it alive was my fear of the consequences.
I dropped my stance. "Stop. Test complete."
I wasn't sending a durable worker to the dungeon; I was sending a fragile specialist. It was too slow and too weak to survive any spontaneous high-level encounter, but its existence gave me a 50% chance at stamina gain without risking my own body. That was a risk worth taking.
"Instruction one," I commanded, pointing toward the highway. "You will walk to the Dungeon Zone. You will focus exclusively on low-risk Stamina and Vitality tasks. Do not engage any C Rank or higher entity. You are only to fight F and D rank creatures. Is that understood?"
I would be the specialized fighter; the Clone would be the specialized grinder.
"I am going to the library," I continued, turning away. "If I call you, you are to immediately rush to my location. I trust you can sense where I am."
"Understood, Primary." The clone responded.
It bolted off, it's physical form perfect, but overall speed was slightly lower than mine.
It's travelling speed was far more impressive than it's speed in combat.
I should've gotten it a separate smartphone shouldn't I?
I didn't have money, but having knowledge of the future provided more than enough benefit.
[Clone (S) cost: 50 points per hour]
1,050 points remaining. That gave the Clone 21 full hours of operation. More than enough time to secure a half decent Stamina boost.
I pulled out my own worn-out phone, which was useful only for basic calls. The plan was set: I would head to the university library. I needed information, and a lot of it.
The true value of the Clone wasn't just the 40% stat gain; it was the 'Swap' mechanic. I hadn't tested the range, but it should be functional
The Clone was a low-Stamina grinder. But what if I needed its perfect control for a difficult spell or task that required my full current Mana pool, without the instability of my own body?
If I used the Swap feature while the Clone was deep in the Dungeon, fighting a D-Rank monster, I could instantly materialize in its place. I could execute the flawless B-Rank spell, kill the monster, and then immediately swap back to the Clone's location, leaving it to deal with the minor clean-up and continue the grind.
It was an ideal strategy: Use the Clone's body as a mana-stabilizing turret and a portable teleport anchor.
The only drawback was the moment of vulnerability during the Swap. In a high-level fight, arriving with my own damaged body in the middle of a monster horde could be fatal. But for now, this was the fastest way to get both the physical stamina and the technical skill I desperately needed.
[Maybe don't divulge your plans while I'm right here?]
[Cooldown on Sub-Ability of Clone (S): 'Swap' now can be used twice per 6 hours]
I had given up when it came to arguing about my skills and their potential benefit.
I reached the sidewalk and turned toward the centre of the campus. I needed a specific book—one that detailed the forgotten Runes of Augmentation. It had been important in my last life, but the news reports never mentioned the specific location, and Erhart had gotten to it just before I had previously.
The library's gothic spire loomed ahead, a bastion of forgotten knowledge.
It was probably the largest library in the country, which was out of the ordinary for a school library.
I just hope the Clone doesn't trip and break its ankle before I can get through the first chapter.