"We need to go to the Northern Tenzan Plateau," I stated, my voice firm, my gaze fixed on Tereda, a map of the Kou Empire unfurled on the desk before us, my finger tracing the route, the distance, the time. "To the grasslands. Hakuei's memories place the betrayal there, about a week before her death."
I paused, my gaze meeting his, a flicker of concern shadowing my usual confidence.
"Are you sure about this, Tereda?" I asked, my voice softening, my hand reaching out to rest gently on his arm, a silent plea for him to consider the consequences, the sacrifices, that this decision entailed. "We've made so much progress here. The Chouju Empire is finally starting to thrive. The people are learning, adapting, embracing the new order. Do you really want to leave all that behind? To risk losing everything we've built?"
The weight of responsibility, the knowledge of the countless lives that depended on Tereda's leadership, pressed down on me, a burden I now shared with him. I'd witnessed firsthand the transformation he'd wrought upon this kingdom, the hope he'd ignited in the hearts of its people. To abandon that, to risk plunging the Chouju Empire back into chaos, for the sake of a single princess from a hostile, slave-trading empire…
It felt… wrong. Reckless. Even for Tereda.
He met my gaze, his eyes a calm, unwavering sea of emerald green, his expression a mask of determination that both reassured and terrified me.
"I know what you're thinking, Ram," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within me, a warmth that chased away the chill of my doubt. "But I can't just turn my back on Hakuei. She's a victim, betrayed by her own people, tortured, left to die. I have the power to change that. To save her. To right a wrong. And I won't let fear, or doubt, or even the stability of my own empire, stop me from doing what's right."
His words, laced with a righteous conviction, a burning passion for justice, stirred a familiar warmth within me, a mix of admiration and a fierce protectiveness that mirrored his own.
He was reckless, yes. Impulsive. Often infuriatingly oblivious to social norms and the delicate dance of diplomacy. But his heart, his core, was pure. He sought to build a better world, a world free from cruelty, from exploitation, from the darkness that had plagued humanity for so long.
And I, despite my own pragmatic nature, despite my deep-seated skepticism, couldn't help but be drawn to that light, to the fire that burned within him, a beacon in a world shrouded in shadows.
"But Tereda," I pressed, my voice softening, my concern shifting from the fate of the Chouju Empire to the well-being of the man I'd come to… well, let's just say my feelings were becoming increasingly difficult to deny, "how? You can't be in two places at once. How can you possibly rule the empire and help Hakuei at the same time?"
A mischievous grin spread across his face, his eyes twinkling with a secret knowledge, a hint of the reckless brilliance that I both loved and feared.
"I've been working on something," he said, his voice a low rumble of anticipation. "A new potion. A rather… unconventional one. It allows me to… well, let's just say it's time to introduce the world to the Tereda Chouju Fan Club."
I stared at him, my brow furrowing, my confusion growing. "Fan club?" I echoed, the term bringing images of people fawning over him, its meaning and what he meant were clearly different.
"It's… complicated," he admitted, his grin widening. "But the gist of it is this: I can create copies of myself. Not just illusions, not just projections, but actual, physical duplicates, each with a portion of my power, a link to my mind, a shared consciousness."
He paused, reaching for a vial that shimmered with a faint, ethereal light, its contents a swirling vortex of silver and gold, a testament to his mastery of alchemy, his ability to bend the very fabric of reality to his will.
"This potion," he explained, holding up the vial, its coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand, "allows me to harness the energy I use for my esper abilities and mana, or even that weird ki from my unique cultivation, to fuel the creation process. Each copy is about… ten percent of my current strength, maybe a bit more, depending on the energy source."
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glee. "Imagine it, Ram. A whole army of Teredas, each capable of handling a different task, each with access to my knowledge, my skills, my powers. We could build schools, hospitals, irrigation systems, all at the same time. We could even take on entire armies, if we had to."
"An army of you?" I echoed, my mind reeling from the implications, the sheer absurdity of the concept. "But… wouldn't that be… dangerous? What if they… rebel? What if they decide they don't want to be copies anymore? What if they turn against you?"
He shook his head, his grin fading, replaced by a look of seriousness. "There's no risk of that, Ram," he assured me, his voice firm, his gaze meeting mine, a silent promise in his eyes. "They're not… independent beings. They're extensions of me. We share a single mind, a single consciousness. They're… well, they're like my limbs. My hands. My eyes. They can't rebel any more than my own arm can decide to punch me in the face."
My skepticism warred with a growing sense of awe.
The power he wielded, the sheer scale of his ambition, the very concept of splitting his being, of creating multiple versions of himself, was both terrifying and exhilarating.
This man, the one I loved, the one I'd pledged my loyalty to, the one who had shattered the chains of my past and offered me a chance at a new destiny, was capable of things that defied logic, that mocked the very laws of nature.
And I, despite my own strength, despite the power of the Oni God that flowed through my veins, felt… small. Insignificant. A mere flicker of a candle flame against the blazing inferno of his will.
"But there has to be a drawback," I insisted, my voice sharp, my gaze fixed on him, my mind refusing to fully accept the possibility of such effortless power. "Nothing that potent can be without consequences. There has to be a price to pay. A side effect. A limitation."
He hesitated, his grin faltering, his gaze dropping to the vial in his hand, a flicker of nervousness crossing his features.
"Well…" he stammered, his voice losing its usual confidence, "there is… one small thing."
"What?" I pressed, my suspicions growing, my body leaning forward, my hands resting on my hips, my posture radiating a silent threat.
"The minimum… summoning," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly, "it's… ten copies. And they all… share my mental faculties. All ten of them."
My jaw dropped. "Ten?!" I exclaimed, my voice a mix of disbelief and outrage. "Ten copies, all sharing your mind? Tereda, are you insane?! How can you possibly handle that kind of mental strain? You'll burn out! Your brain will fry! You'll-"
I stopped abruptly, my words dissolving into a strangled gasp as a chilling realization dawned on me.
"You're going to die again, aren't you?" I whispered, my voice trembling, my anger intensifying, replaced by a wave of irritation, a protectiveness that surged through me, a fierce need to shield him from the consequences of his own reckless ambition. We should only use the return ability if absolutely necessary! He's just using it frivolously and guaranteeing suffering. "You're going to push yourself too far, and you're going to suffer over and over!"
My voice cracked, the words caught in my throat, the image of Tereda, his body wracked with agony, his mind shattered, his soul extinguished, flashing before my eyes.
"It'll be fine," he said, his voice a strained whisper, his gaze flickering away from mine, his usual confidence shattered, replaced by a vulnerability that made my heart ache. "I- I have a potion for that. It helps with… mental strain. It'll… it'll just be a little… painful."
His words were a lie. A desperate attempt to downplay the danger, to shield me from the truth. I'd seen the effects of those mental enhancement potions, the way they'd pushed our minds to the brink when we used the skill shard reader/writer, the agony, the blood coming out of our ears, eyes and nose, the sheer terror of feeling our consciousness unraveling. And this potion, this elixir of self-replication, this power to split his very being…
It would be a thousand times worse.
"No!" I roared, my voice a thunderclap that echoed through the study, my anger a shield against the fear that threatened to consume me. "You're not going through that alone! Not while I'm here!"
I snatched the vial from his hand, my telekinesis surging, a wave of invisible force guiding it towards Rem, who sat frozen on the couch, her blue eyes wide with alarm.
"Drink it, Rem," I commanded, my voice a steel blade, brooking no argument. "Now."
Rem, bless her trusting heart, didn't hesitate. She uncorked the vial and drank the potion, its shimmering golden contents disappearing down her throat. A moment later, a smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes, touched her lips.
"Now you have to make another one, don't you, Tereda?" she said, her voice a playful tease, her gaze meeting his, a silent challenge in her eyes.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping, his defeat complete. He knew what we were doing, why we were forcing him to share the burden, the risk, the potential agony of this new potion.
And he couldn't deny us.
Not when it came to protecting him.
He gathered the ingredients, his movements swift, precise, his enhanced mind working overtime as he recreated the potion, his frustration tempered by a grudging admiration for our stubborn protectiveness.
Within minutes, three new vials shimmered on the desk, their contents a swirling vortex of silver and gold, a promise of power, of connection, of a shared journey into the uncharted territories of his own mind.
He handed one to me, his gaze meeting mine, a warmth in his eyes that softened the harsh lines of his usual scowl.
"I… I don't want you to go through this," he said, his voice a low rumble, his concern genuine, his affection palpable. "But… if you insist, I can't deny you. Anything for my empresses."
I nodded, accepting the vial, my heart pounding, my resolve unwavering. "It's good you know your place, Tereda," I said, my voice playfully smug and regal, my usual smugness returning.
I uncorked the vial and drank the potion, the taste a strange mix of bitterness and sweetness, the energy coursing through my veins a chaotic blast of power and fear, excitement and apprehension.
Tereda, after handing Rem her own vial, drank his potion, his gaze fixed on mine, a silent understanding passing between us.
"On the count of three," he said, his voice a low hum in the quiet room. "One… two… three…"
Our minds merged, a torrent of sensations flooding our beings, the world around us dissolving into a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. And then…
Immense agony followed by-
Darkness.
—
Tereda POV
The agony hit like a runaway train, a wave of white-hot pain that ripped through my mind, shredding my thoughts, shattering my focus. I barely registered the sensation, the sheer intensity of it, before my vision went black, my body seizing, my consciousness dissolving into a chaotic static.
Then, the familiar void. The space between moments. The shimmering tapestry of possibilities.
"Damn it," I rasped, my voice a broken whisper in the silence. "Less than two seconds. Barely even had time to adapt."
Frustration gnawed at me. I'd been so confident, so eager to unleash the full potential of the duplication potion, to experience the power, the efficiency, of having multiple versions of myself working in unison. But the mental strain, the sheer volume of information flooding my enhanced mind, had been overwhelming.
I glanced at the cord, that shimmering thread of time and space that represented my ability to rewind. It stretched further than I'd ever seen it before, a glimmering line that reached back weeks, months, wow, even up to 4 whole months. Further back than the moment we even arrived in this world by far.
For a fleeting moment, temptation flickered. I could go back. have a ton of training time.
But then I saw it, the tendrils of my chi, a vibrant gold, pulsing with a life of its own, filling the void. It was a reminder of the power that surged within me, the potential I'd unlocked, the strength I'd gained.
"No," I muttered, shaking my head, my mind moving towards Morgiana's smile. "I can't go back. Not that far. Not when I have a family member I can accidentally erase by going back to before we met."
I could feel it, the next breakthrough in my upper dantian, the one governing the mental aspects of my cultivation, shimmering just beyond the horizon of my awareness. It was within reach. I couldn't afford to waste time, to dwell on regrets. I had to push through the pain, to endure, to reach the next level, no matter the cost.
This time, something was different. I wasn't being forced to immediately grasp the cord. My choice wasn't being made by me so fast that it barely felt like a choice as I instinctively chose the first best option that came to mind. I could think. I could choose.
I shrugged, shoved every bit of chi outwards, my vision blurring, the void shimmering with golden light. Then, with a deliberate act of will, I grasped the cord, pulling it back a mere half a second.
The world snapped back into focus, the weight of my body a familiar anchor, the scent of ancient parchment and Rem's natural lavender and olive oil scent and Ram's scent of fresh soil and roses filling my senses.
"Again," I muttered. "We try again." as agony blared hot.
I channeled my chi, flooding my meridians, pushing it outwards, a wave of golden energy washing over Ram, over Rem, over myself and avoiding focusing on Morgiana who didn't need it right now. This time, I wouldn't enhance their bodies. I would fortify their minds, and reduce the mental strain.
I focused my will, through the absolute agony, amplified tenfold as my ten selves and main body screamed in unison while I tried to direct the chi between ourselves.
Ram and Rem, their selves, still screamed in agony beside me as their eyes, ears, nose, and mouth bled the same as mine, their bodies contorted, their faces etched with pain, but their cries were less frantic, their movements less chaotic.
"Hold on," I thought, my mental voice reaching out to them, a beacon of strength amidst the storm. "We can do this. We have to do this."
But even as I offered words of encouragement, a new wave of terror, a primal scream of fear and desperation, pierced through my fragmented consciousness.
"No! No! No!"
Morgiana's voice, a raw, anguished cry that ripped through my soul.
"Don't leave me! Please don't die!"
I looked up, my ten pairs of eyes widening in horror as I saw her, no longer asleep on the couch, but rushing towards us, her face pale, her eyes wide with a terror that mirrored the chaos within my own mind, her small hands reaching out, desperately trying to grasp one of my writhing forms, to pull me back from the abyss.
"Tereda!" she screamed, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her cheeks. "What's happening? Why are you bleeding?! Make it stop! Please make it stop! Don't leave me! Big brother! Sisters!"
The blood drained from my face in more ways than one, my fragmented consciousness reeling.
Oh god.
Morgiana.
She was part of the loop.
"I fucked up," I mentally whimpered, the words a strangled thought, a broken mental whisper lost amidst the blaring alarm of our suffering. "I fucked up so bad! Now I'm giving Morgiana even more nightmares! Nooo..."
Darkness, as a new dread filled me.