Jacob Tan
patreon
Solo Apocalypse - 33
🕑 Added 2022-03-27 02:37:54 +0000 UTC“Is this not ever strange to you?” Rose asked me—asked Ninth.
Ninth shifted. “Honestly, this is the first I’ve done this.” He said. “Believe me when I tell you it’s pretty disorienting.”
My original self was testing the [Twilight Saber], facing against Sixth, the only uninjured clone. It was strange setting myself against myself. I knew every movement, every thought of my opponent because it was my own.
And yet, there was a strange mental remove I’d never been aware of until now. The punch came at me and I blinked as it stopped at my nose. Simultaneously grinning at a triumph and frowning at the strangeness, one emotion on each face. Confusion apparent on both.
I saw everything, every perspective, and yet it was at that odd mental remove. The peculiar state of my consciousness through [Never Alone] being shed light upon. Each clone was undoubtedly me, but that certainty guaranteed my independence in each of them.
I was every clone. They were also me. It was like touching two fingers together and trying to understand what each was feeling. Or something like that. It was one of those things too convoluted to think about and easier to feel.
Was that wisdom or intelligence, to understand that?
Perhaps it was the way I could trust my hand to grab something, that same notion applied to the fight. I didn’t need specifics, neither my original self nor my clone. But one never doubted their own hand. I could feel every muscle, every movement if I needed to. I just didn’t.
I had surprised myself. And two parts of me adjusted, both rising to the bizarre challenge.
I was both David and Goliath, original and clone. I dodged as Sixth came at me. Fearlessly, aggressive, the element of surprise. It’s what I would’ve done. I stepped to the side and found him there but I was ready, dodging again and bringing my sword in a wide slash up his neck.
We both paused.
“Again.” We said.
The same exact person, but one just more? The result was a foregone conclusion. But loss or victory neither added nor stole from my ego. It was all me. And so we went again.
Every swing of my sword I saw looked wrong, I corrected. Every inefficient movement of mine, I attempted to optimize.
As David, I poked at every weakness, every opening. I moved into blind spots, exploited the uncertainty of my form. I played every mind game I could, went for whatever would work. A handful of dirt, a reckless tackle. I approached my superior self with my death as a given, and then with my life as a treasure.
As Goliath, I pressed every inferiority. I became overwhelming. Speed, power, and strength of body where simple technique failed. I challenged strength with strength, speed with speed when I knew I would win. I was cocky, confident because here my power demanded it.
An incredible display of coordination, even in a spar. Each bout ended in sometimes two or three moves before Sixth found a blade at his throat, his arm, or his leg. An injury was all it took. As much as an underdog story was loved, it was never realistic and I proved it to myself over and over.
Sixth defeated me once, a goblin knife to my wrist. It had happened in a split second, at the apex of my swing, the knife had been there. At this point, I was only slightly taxed. Sixth’s breath was labored.
Eventually, I realized that Ninth had better use for the sword in these circumstances and weapons were swapped. The utility of the sword was pointless when I had overwhelming attributes to lean on, at least in this fight. It was a better tool when actually needed.
“Again.” I didn’t go easy on myself.
Sixth held the [Twilight Saber] against my neck, the deadly edge twinkling softly like the night sky. And I simultaneously stared down, gulping at the very real cold unearthly metal upon my neck.
“Again.”
Ninth watched nearby, analyzing every move as I reset. Seeing movements neither of my battling selves did, noting them down. Ninth observed the original with the same quiet intensity as I’d been watching myself. Trying, as all my clones did, to discover any inconsistency in my physical expression. My Title covered any mental bids of subjugation.
The symbiote had not made itself known to me in any perceivable manner. And yet I felt good. Good enough to put me on edge. Nothing came without a price and it felt like I was waiting for a shoe to drop that simply wasn’t.
“How are you moving like that?” Rose asked, pulling me from my focus. “It must be a Skill, of some sort, obviously. But it’s… it looks choreographed.”
Rather, it was my raw stats. “I think we have to assume everything’s possible.”
“It’s odd, talking to you here, and seeing two of you there,” Rose said shaking her head. “It’s so uncanny. I can almost convince myself you’re triplets. At least, when there’s only three.”
“You get used to it.” I chuckled. “Now imagine watching yourself—well, enough to say it’s not always just strange. It’s horrible, sometimes.” I said softly.
She looked at me, eyes searching. “When they get beheaded you get beheaded. When they burn alive so do you.” She quoted me, voice gentle and coming to a conclusion. “You’ve seen yourself die. You’ve watched yourself. Back then… in the fire, the Field Boss. You didn’t escape, did you?” She said, eyes going round. “When you told me you sacrificed yourself… you meant that you literally…”
I gave her a wan smile.
“You feel it all?” She asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes.” I said, staring as my original body clashed with Sixth. At the spar I felt every inch of. Saw from the perspective of both combatants as well as an observer. “Everything.”
I was both there fighting, and here as Ninth. I shifted again, that stinging sear acting up. A bright line of pain across Ninth’s chest, just one of the injured clones. I groaned, regretting the noise, and Rose immediately noticed.
It took her only a second of scrutiny.
“My god.” She whispered. “Your chest! You need medicine! That needs to be treated!” She exclaimed, moving my clothes to see the extent of the injury. Her eyes were focused, gauging the damage.
“It’s okay, it’s not lethal. Not in this body.” I said, giving her a pained smile.
“You’re insane.” She looked up at me. “You’re in pain! If I had a first aid kit I could help…” She said worriedly.
In fact, in my [Spidersilk Backpack] I did have some first aid kits. Pilfered from the science building before I burned it down. I wasn’t keen on using it on my clones though. It wasn’t worth it.
“I guess there’s something I could try.” I said trailing off.
Without any particular fanfare or obvious signal, the sparring session ended and Ninth approached my original self. I stared at him.
And he merged into me as if our steps and breath became entirely the same. That we moved in such a perfect resonance as to become one. And then, barely a heartbeat later, he stepped out of me, forking once again into individualism. Tougher than the rest of the clones.
And importantly, Sixth was now whole. Undamaged.
“Woah.” Rose said, watching quietly. “That’s that.” She said, looking at me. “And this is normal for you?”
“It’s getting to be.” I replied, not sure which one of me responded.
Items didn’t copy over when I used [Never Alone], I had tried. But… without a doubt, the new Ninth had an increased constitution. So why did the stat bonuses from the symbiote apply to my clone? It didn’t take me long to figure out why. It was because I wasn’t wearing any Item. I had gotten a new Trait.
Because the symbiote was now part of me. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It was a roundabout way to confirm an unsettling truth and I opted to focus on another revelation instead.
With the boost to my statistics, I had to ‘update’ the clones. They retained the physical attributes of their conception, meaning clones Sixth through Ninth, the ones I had created after gaining the Title and coming into the [Sleepywood], were the only ones benefitting from the physical attributes. The others outside, after checking, were indeed more limited.
I recognized that truth instinctually, some aspect of my Class or [Never Alone] itself lending some inherent intuition. Since my consciousness was pseudo-shared across every clone, the mental attributes were constant regardless of what they were at the time of each clone’s creation.
“So this is your Skill.” Rose said, attentive. “Is it some kind of magic?” She looked at me curiously, watching my clones walk about.
“I don’t think it’s like your [Firebolt], if that’s what you’re wondering.” I said contemplative. Then, after a moment. “They’re here, by the way.”
I stopped further sparring as Rickson, Parker, Seventh, and Eighth returned. The place we had chosen to shelter in was a particularly thick copse of trees, with a single unobstructed exit such that the small area could be watched with relative ease. It was our current base of operations.
Rose looked at me, the original who hadn’t left the clearing. “Run into any trouble?” She asked. He sees what they see, feels what they feel. That means this Evahn should know what those ones do.
“Troubling, more like.” I replied to her, greeting Parker and Rickson as they returned.
I absorbed the injured Seventh and Eighth, the motion so smooth it looked as if they simply stepped through me. And it was with the addition of them that I realized this particular interaction didn’t come without a cost.
I felt a fraction of the injuries. No, I recieved a fraction of them. I pulled my clothes forward and glanced down my chest. A shallow cut across it. A small wound in my arm. My shoulder was stinging in a circle, the shape of a bite mark. All diminished versions of the injuries Ninth, Eighth, and Seventh sustained, respectively.
If I had a hunch, it was that the fraction was an even ninth of each injury. The exact number of my clones. I winced, the pain lesser overall though more consequential. This was the cost of absorbing an injured clone.
It was also the first time I felt some small fatigue from using the [Never Alone] Skill in such quick succession. Both absorbing and creating.
I sat on a log, rummaging through my [Spidersilk Backpack] and took out a first aid kit. Then I pulled my jacket and shirt off as two my clones broke away to assist. They popped open the kit, inspected the unfamiliar contents for a moment, before simply starting unprompted.
I held my arms up as Sixth and Seventh bandaged my chest and arm, sterilizing and applying antibacterial ointment. I closed my eyes as my shoulder was wrapped, the stinging across my wounds subsiding minutely. It itched and my movements were stiff, but it was better.
Meanwhile, Parker and Rickson updated Rose on what they had found. Naturally, I already knew the result of their scouting since two of me had been there. Technically, all three of us were updating Rose.
We had found a trap.
