Chapter 101: They are all fake

Chapter 101: Chapter 101: They are all fake

Daniel looked at the girls, his gaze sweeping over each of them with a quiet, assessing tenderness that belied the cold fury still simmering beneath his calm exterior. They were tired, bone-deep and soul-weary in a way that spoke of hours of relentless combat. They were bruised, their bodies a canvas of purple and black and sickly yellow where the enemy’s blows had landed. They were bleeding, thin trickles of crimson running down arms and legs and faces, dripping onto the torn and trampled earth beneath their feet. But they were still standing. They were still fighting. They were still ready, their eyes burning with a defiance that no amount of pain could extinguish.

Fluffy was panting, her small chest heaving with each ragged breath she drew. Her daggers were still raised, the blades catching the dim light and throwing it back in sharp, dangerous glints. Her eyes were still sharp, still focused, still filled with that fierce, unwavering loyalty that defined her very existence. She was exhausted, her tiny body trembling with the effort of simply remaining upright, but she would not stop. She would never stop. Not while her master needed her. Not while there was still breath in her body and strength in her limbs. She would fight until she couldn’t fight anymore, and then she would find a way to fight some more.

Lyra was reloading her guns, her movements mechanical and precise despite the exhaustion that weighed down every fiber of her being. Her hands were shaking, a fine tremor that she couldn’t control no matter how hard she tried. Her arms were trembling, the muscles screaming in protest with every motion. But she was focused, her mind locked onto the task at hand with a singular determination. She was determined, her will a fortress that no amount of fatigue could breach. She would keep firing until her fingers couldn’t move anymore, until her guns were empty and her arms gave out, and then she would find another way to fight, another way to protect the man who had given her purpose.

Cheeky was standing behind them, her posture unsteady but her resolve unbroken. Her metal weapons were floating around her, orbiting her body in slow, lazy circles like satellites around a planet. Her face was pale, drained of color by the sheer effort of maintaining her abilities for so long. Her body was weak, her limbs heavy and unresponsive, her muscles screaming for rest. But she was still there, still present, still fighting in her own way. She was still trying, still pushing herself beyond the limits of what should have been possible, because she refused to be a burden, refused to be useless, refused to let down the people who had come to mean everything to her.

Daniel felt a warmth in his chest as he watched them, a feeling he had grown familiar with over the past few days. It was pride, swelling in his heart like a tide as he witnessed their strength, their courage, their unwavering commitment. It was affection, deep and genuine, born from countless moments of shared struggle and shared triumph. It was love, pure and simple, the kind of love that transcended words and logic and reason. He loved them. He loved them all, each in their own way, and he would die before he let any harm come to them.

"Alright," he said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over the battlefield. "Take a break."

The three girls looked at him, their eyes wide with surprise, their expressions confused as they tried to process his words. They had been prepared to fight to the bitter end, to push themselves until there was nothing left to give. They had not expected this. They had not expected him to tell them to stop.

"What?" Lyra asked, her voice hoarse and disbelieving, as if she couldn’t quite trust her own ears.

"A break," Daniel repeated, his tone gentle but firm. "You three have done enough. Take a rest."

"But Master," Fluffy protested, her voice high and insistent, her loyalty overriding her exhaustion. "Fluffy can still fight. Fluffy is not tired. Fluffy can keep going. Fluffy can—"

Daniel smiled, a warm, genuine smile that softened the hard lines of his face and made him look almost boyish. He walked toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, and when he reached her, he reached down and patted her head. She leaned into his touch immediately, her eyes closing, her tail wagging weakly behind her as she basked in the simple affection of the gesture.

"I know you can still fight," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "But you don’t have to. Not right now. Let me handle this."

Fluffy opened her eyes, looking up at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated hope. Her eyes were bright, shimmering with unshed tears, and her small body trembled with a mixture of exhaustion and emotion.

"Master will fight?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Daniel said, nodding. "Master will fight."

Fluffy nodded slowly, processing his words, accepting them, trusting them completely. She stepped back, her movements reluctant but obedient, and lowered her daggers. The blades, which had been raised in defense for so long, now hung loosely at her sides. She sat down on the ground, her legs giving out beneath her as the exhaustion she had been holding at bay finally crashed over her like a wave. She was tired. She was exhausted. But she was happy. Master was going to fight. Master was going to win. And that was all that mattered.

Lyra hesitated, her fingers still wrapped around the grip of her gun, her body still coiled and ready for action. She looked at Daniel, studying his face, searching for any sign of doubt or uncertainty. She found none. His face was calm, serene even, untouched by the fear or anxiety that should have been present given the circumstances. His eyes were determined, hard as flint and sharp as steel, filled with a quiet confidence that she had come to recognize and trust.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice quiet but intense, needing to hear him say it, needing to know that he wasn’t just being reckless, wasn’t just putting himself in danger for their sake.

Daniel nodded, meeting her gaze without flinching. "I’m sure."

Lyra nodded slowly, accepting his answer, trusting his judgment even if she didn’t fully understand it. She lowered her guns, her movements slow and deliberate, and stepped back. She sat down beside Fluffy, her body sagging with relief as the weight of combat finally lifted from her shoulders. She was tired. She was exhausted. But she trusted Daniel. She trusted him completely, without reservation, without doubt. If he said he could handle it, then he could handle it. She believed that with every fiber of her being.

Cheeky didn’t hesitate. She had been watching the exchange in silence, her dark eyes moving from face to face as she processed the situation. When Daniel gave the order, she obeyed without question. She lowered her hands, her fingers uncurling from the intricate gestures she had been maintaining, and her metal weapons fell to the ground with a series of soft clanks. She stepped back, her movements slow and stiff, and sat down beside Lyra. She was tired. She was exhausted. But she was relieved. She didn’t have to fight anymore. She could rest. She could let someone else carry the burden for a while.

Daniel turned to Benjamin.

Benjamin was still standing there, his body broken and battered, his face a mess of blood and bruises and swelling. His arm was still bleeding, the wound refusing to close despite his regeneration. His regeneration was slow, weak, struggling to keep up with the damage he had sustained. He was a shadow of the man he had been when the fight began, a broken, desperate creature clinging to the last vestiges of his strength.

But he was still standing. He was still fighting. He was still defiant, his eyes burning with hatred and rage and a desperate, clawing need for victory.

"You," he said, his voice rasping and raw. "You think you can beat me?"

Daniel smiled, a cold, dangerous smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was the smile of a predator who had cornered its prey, the smile of a man who knew, with absolute certainty, that he had already won.

"I don’t think," he said, his voice calm and measured. "I know."

Benjamin laughed, a cold, mocking laugh that echoed through the clearing and bounced off the trees. It was a hollow sound, devoid of humor, filled instead with bitterness and disbelief.

"You’re arrogant," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think you’re better than me. You think you’re stronger than me. You think you’re smarter than me."

Daniel didn’t answer. He just stood there, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed, his expression calm. He was the picture of composure, of confidence, of control. He was everything Benjamin was not.

"You’re wrong," Benjamin continued, his voice rising with each word. "You’re nothing. You’re a human. A weak, pathetic human. You don’t have talent. You don’t have power. You don’t have anything. You’re just a man who got lucky, who stumbled into power he doesn’t deserve, who—"

Daniel still didn’t answer. He just stood there, watching, waiting, his calm exterior never cracking.

"I have talent," Benjamin pressed on, desperate to convince himself as much as anyone else. "I have power. I have regeneration. I have wind. I have everything. I am everything. I am—"

Daniel smiled, that same cold, dangerous smile. "And yet you’re bleeding. You’re tired. You’re weak."

Benjamin’s face went red, his cheeks flushing with rage and humiliation. His hands were shaking, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. His aura was blazing, wind swirling around him in a frenzy of barely contained fury.

"I’m not weak!" he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "I’m not tired! I’m not bleeding!"

"You are," Daniel said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. "I can see it. Everyone can see it."

Benjamin screamed, a raw, primal sound that tore from his throat and echoed through the clearing. He raised his hand, his fingers spread wide, and wind gathered around him, swirling and spinning and coalescing into a blade of pure, concentrated force.

"I’ll kill you!" he shouted, his voice wild and desperate. "I’ll kill you and everyone you care about!"

Daniel didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. He just stood there, his hands in his pockets, his expression calm, his eyes fixed on Benjamin with an intensity that was almost unsettling.

Then he summoned his clones.

One hundred shadow clones rose from the ground, their dark forms materializing out of the shadows like spirits summoned from the underworld. They were all Daniel. All identical. All dark. All obedient. They stood in perfect formation, their empty eyes fixed on Benjamin, their bodies still and waiting.

Benjamin’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock and disbelief. His wind blade flickered and wavered, his concentration shattered by the impossible sight before him.

"What..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. "What is this?"

Daniel smiled, that cold, dangerous smile that had become his trademark. "This," he said, "is one against one hundred and one."

Benjamin stared at the clones, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. He looked at their dark forms, their bodies made of shadow and substance, solid and real and terrifying. He looked at their identical faces, each one a perfect copy of Daniel’s, each one wearing the same calm, confident expression. He looked at their empty eyes, devoid of emotion, devoid of mercy, devoid of anything but absolute obedience.

He was shaking. His whole body was trembling, his limbs weak and unresponsive. His hands were shaking, his fingers twitching uncontrollably. His legs were shaking, barely able to support his weight. His breath was shaking, coming in short, ragged gasps that did nothing to fill his lungs.

"No," he whispered, his voice cracking. "No, no, no."

He stumbled back, his feet catching on a root and sending him sprawling to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, his movements clumsy and desperate, and stumbled back again, putting as much distance between himself and the clones as he could.

"This... this isn’t real," he said, his voice high and strained. "This is an illusion. This is a trick. These clones aren’t real."

The others heard him, their attention drawn to the scene unfolding before them.

Paul was sitting on the ground, his body broken and battered, his face a mess of blood and bruises. But he was watching, his eyes fixed on the clones with a mixture of fear and fascination. He was listening, his ears straining to catch every word.

"He’s right," Paul said, his voice hoarse and weak. "Clones are usually weak. They can’t do much damage. They’re just distractions. They’re not real threats."

Elara was standing near the edge of the clearing, her posture tense and alert. She was watching too, her eyes moving from the clones to Daniel to Benjamin and back again. She was listening too, her mind working overtime to analyze the situation.

"Maybe," she said, her voice thoughtful. "But Daniel’s clones are different. They’re not normal clones."

Paul looked at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Elara didn’t answer. She just watched, her eyes fixed on the clones, waiting, analyzing, calculating. She had seen Daniel fight before, had witnessed the impossible things he could do. She knew better than to underestimate him.

Benjamin was still stumbling back, his eyes wild and desperate. His face was pale, drained of color by the fear that gripped his heart.

"They’re fake!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "They’re all fake! They can’t hurt me! They can’t do anything!"

The others looked at the clones, their eyes moving from one dark figure to the next. They looked at their dark forms, their bodies made of shadow and substance. They looked at their empty eyes, devoid of emotion, devoid of mercy. They looked at their still bodies, waiting, obedient, patient.

Some of them looked hopeful, their eyes bright with the possibility of victory. Some of them looked relieved, their shoulders sagging as the tension of the fight began to ease. Some of them looked like they believed Benjamin, like they thought the clones were nothing more than an elaborate bluff.

Daniel smiled, that cold, dangerous smile that sent shivers down the spines of everyone who saw it.

"Do you want to test it?" he asked, his voice calm and measured.

Benjamin blinked, his mind struggling to process the question. "What?"

"Do you want to test it? Do you want to see if my clones can hurt you?"

Benjamin hesitated, his eyes darting from the clones to Daniel and back again. He looked at the clones, at their dark forms, at their empty eyes, at their still bodies. He looked at Daniel, at his calm face, at his confident posture, at his cold smile.

"Yeah," he said, his voice rough and determined. "I want to test it. But not against all of them. Just one. Me against one of your clones."

Daniel tilted his head, his expression curious. "One of my clones?"

"Yes. One of your clones. If I can beat one of your clones, then they’re fake. They’re weak. They’re useless."

Daniel smiled, that same cold, dangerous smile. "And if you can’t beat one of my clones?"

Benjamin’s face went pale, his confidence wavering. He didn’t answer.

"Then you lose," Daniel said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. "You lose everything. You lose the fight. You lose your life. You lose everything."

Benjamin swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight. He looked at the clones, at their dark forms, at their empty eyes, at their still bodies. He looked at Daniel, at his calm face, at his confident posture, at his cold smile.

"Fine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I accept."

Daniel nodded, his expression unchanged. He raised his hand, gesturing at one of the clones.

"You," he said. "Go."

The clone stepped forward, its movements smooth and fluid, its body moving with a grace and precision that was almost inhuman. It was dark, its form made of shadow and substance. It was shadowy, its edges blurring and shifting in the dim light. It was identical to Daniel, its face a perfect copy of his, its body a perfect replica. But it was also different. It was empty, devoid of emotion, devoid of thought, devoid of anything but absolute obedience. It was a weapon, a tool, a extension of Daniel’s will.

Benjamin raised his hand, his fingers spread wide. Wind gathered around him, swirling and spinning and coalescing into a blade of pure, concentrated force.

"I’ll destroy you," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I’ll destroy all of you."

The clone didn’t answer. It just stood there, waiting, obedient, patient. It didn’t move. It didn’t speak. It didn’t react. It just stood there, its empty eyes fixed on Benjamin, its body still and ready.

Benjamin charged.

He threw a punch, his fist cutting through the air with a speed and force that should have been impossible given his injuries. The clone dodged, its body moving with a fluid grace that seemed almost supernatural, slipping past the attack with ease. He kicked, his leg sweeping out in a wide arc. The clone blocked, its arm coming up to intercept the blow, absorbing the impact without flinching. He slashed with his wind blade, the sharp edge of compressed air cutting through the space where the clone had been standing. The clone sidestepped, its body moving with a speed and precision that was almost terrifying, avoiding the attack by the narrowest of margins.

Benjamin screamed, a raw, primal sound that tore from his throat and echoed through the clearing. He threw everything he had, his fists, his feet, his wind, his rage, his desperation. He attacked with a ferocity that was almost admirable, a relentless assault that would have overwhelmed any normal opponent.

The clone dodged it all. It moved like water, flowing around the attacks with a grace that seemed almost effortless. It moved like shadow, slipping through the gaps in Benjamin’s defenses with a precision that was almost surgical. It moved like wind, swift and unpredictable, impossible to pin down or anticipate.

Benjamin was getting frustrated, his attacks growing wilder and more desperate. His punches were missing, his kicks were failing, his wind blades were cutting nothing but air. His defenses were failing, his guard dropping as exhaustion and desperation took their toll. His regeneration was slowing, the wounds he had sustained refusing to heal, the blood continuing to flow.

The clone attacked.

It threw a punch, a single, simple punch that contained all the force and precision of a master martial artist. Benjamin tried to block, his arms coming up to protect his face. He was too slow. The fist connected with his face, the impact thunderous, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through his body. Benjamin flew backward, his body tumbling through the air like a ragdoll. He crashed through trees, the trunks splintering and shattering under the force of his passage. He crashed through rocks, the stones crumbling and breaking under the impact. He crashed through everything, his body carving a path of destruction through the forest.

He disappeared into the distance, his body vanishing into the darkness of the trees.

The clone stood there, its fist still extended, its expression still empty. It was waiting. It was obedient. It was ready.

Daniel smiled, that cold, dangerous smile that had become his trademark.

"See?" he said, his voice calm and measured. "They’re not fake."

[Magic Castle = 5 bonus Chapter’s the same day]

[Space craft= 15 bonus Chapter’s the same day]

[Golden gachapon= 25 bonus Chapter’s]