The silence after Dawon's last growl was unsettling. The cavern no longer rumbled with the breaths of thousands of beasts, but rather pulsed with a strange rhythm—like a heartbeat beneath stone. Om noticed it first in the flicker of Dawon's golden Sanskrit patterns. The lion's mighty form sagged, eyes dimming, until it collapsed onto the rocky ground, chest rising and falling in a deep, unnatural slumber.
"Dawon!" Om knelt by his companion, alarm flashing across his eyes. The great beast was alive, its breath steady, but its consciousness was sealed in that same dreamlike stillness that gripped the others.
Dev stumbled, his claymore slipping from his grip as his knees buckled. "Om… what is… happening…?" His voice cracked, trailing into silence as his body hit the ground. Within seconds, even his panicked heartbeat slowed into the calm, steady rhythm of sleep.
The four apex beasts followed, their titanic bodies folding to the cavern floor. The Seismic Howler's thunderous chest ceased its growls, the Mother Spider curled her limbs, the serpent coiled into stillness, and the mammoth-like behemoth exhaled a long, misty breath before surrendering to slumber.
Om stood alone.
His gaze swept across the pond again. Perfectly clear. No ripples, no hidden depth—just water. Yet every beast in this hollow—apex, lesser, even Dawon—had fallen under its silent influence.
"Zero," Om muttered. His voice echoed faintly.
[The phenomenon centers on the pond,] Zero's monotone carried, calm as ever.
[Recommend physical examination.]
Om exhaled through his nose, pulling a pebble loose from the ground. He weighed it once in his hand, then tossed it into the pond.
Plop.
The sound was almost insulting in its simplicity. The pebble sank, leaving concentric ripples across the surface. No light, no surge, no reaction. Just water.
His jaw tightened. "So simple… and yet…"
[Reconsider further testing,] Zero advised.
[Direct contact. Suggestion: ingestion.]
Om's fingers curled. "Drink it?"
[Affirmative.]
For a moment, he hesitated. The weight of countless sleeping beasts pressed into his chest. Why am I the only one awake? he wondered.
But hesitation was foreign to Om's nature. His grandfather's words echoed faintly in memory:
"Truth lies not in fear, but in the step you dare to take."
Om crouched by the pond. Slowly, he dipped his hand into the cool water. The temperature was sharp, almost biting, yet strangely invigorating. He lifted his palm, clear droplets trembling in the dim glow.
Then, without another thought, he brought it to his lips.
The taste was ordinary. Pure. Almost too pure.
And then—
The Sanskrit symbols etched across his body flared to life, searing golden against his skin. One by one, they unraveled, streaming out of him like living flames.
"—Zero?" Om's voice cracked, but the Zero reply fractured into static.
[—inte— … —sys—error— … —recor— …]
The voice fizzled and went silent.
Om's mind was quiet. Utterly quiet. No calculations, no second voice, no warnings.
Only silence.
And clarity.
It should have been terrifying, yet it wasn't. Om drew a breath, steady and unshaken. Somehow, he did not feel loss. In fact, his body felt lighter, his thoughts sharper.
The golden characters circled him like fireflies, faster and faster, until they began tugging at the pond.
Water rose.
Droplets streamed upward in ribbons, pulled not by gravity, but by will—his will. Sanskrit lines wrapped around them, weaving symbols into the liquid until the pond itself trembled.
The chamber glowed.
The sleeping beasts stirred faintly, but none woke.
Time lost meaning.
.
.
.
.
Seven days passed in silence.
Om's eyes snapped open. His breath rushed in, sharp and alive. He sat upright, his body no longer heavy, but changed.
And then—he froze.
Across from him, lying in the same position, was himself.
Another Om. Identical. Breathing. Alive.
He reached out, instinctively, to shake the figure awake—
—but before his hand could touch, the other Om's eyes opened.
They met his gaze.
And they both froze.
The first sensation that returned to Om was the faint weight of breath, the steady expansion of lungs. But the air did not belong only to him. He could feel the rhythm of another chest rising, falling—synchronized perfectly with his own.
Slowly, his eyes opened. The world was as it had been before: the cavern's dim glow, beasts strewn across the ground in deep, unnatural slumber, Dawon curled protectively near him. But what froze Om's breath was the figure across from him.
It was himself.
The boy mirrored every line of his face, every Sanskrit character embedded and muscle etched into his body. Even the faint curve of his lips was identical, though not from intent—it was because the body was breathing the same way he was. His other self's eyelids fluttered, and at that exact moment, Om felt his own vision shift.
For a heartbeat, he was not only looking at his other self—he was looking through him.
A sharp gasp escaped both mouths at once.
"…What—?"
Their voices overlapped, one sound echoing from two throats.
Panic struck. Om raised his right hand instinctively—and saw both hands rise. It wasn't mimicry. It wasn't delay. It was perfect simultaneity.
Every movement, every sensation was shared. Two bodies, one consciousness.
The realization made Om stagger. And, naturally, the other him staggered too, both falling to the side in mirror collapse. They sat there, wide-eyed, staring at themselves while being themselves.
To clear the haze of panic, Om clenched his teeth and whispered, "…Zero. Are you there?"
For a moment, there was silence. Then a faint distortion crackled in his mind, like broken static smoothing itself into clarity.
[Affirmative.]
Relief hit him, but quickly gave way to urgency.
"Explain. What… is this? Why am I looking at myself?"
[What you see is not an illusion] Zero replied, its tone analytical, clipped.
[That body is completely identical to you.]
[Reason: Unknown]
[It shares the exact same consciousness. Every sense, thought, and memory is linked.]
Om's throat went dry. He raised his head again—instinctively, his other self mirrored the movement. They locked eyes, and the sensation was dizzying: staring into a mirror that stared back with your own thoughts.
"Two bodies… one mind," Om muttered, shaking his head. "That's impossible."
[Impossible?] Zero hummed in its faintly metallic voice.
[Perhaps by our prior understanding of this world.]
[The Sanskrit patterns that emerged from your body before entering this state are still of unknown origin.]
[The water was also unknown.]
Om's fists tightened. He wanted to argue, but he knew Zero was rarely wrong.
"Wait," Om said suddenly, as a thought sparked. "If this is my consciousness… and you're a part of me too… then can you—"
He stopped midsentence. His gaze narrowed on his other self. "Zero. Could you… possess this body? Move it without me?"
There was a pause. Then a quiet: [I can attempt it.]
Om swallowed, a strange tension building in his chest. "…Do it."
The cavern seemed to thrum faintly with silence. Then Om felt something shift—like a thread being pulled from the back of his skull. His other body twitched.
Then… it straightened.
The clone's eyes sharpened, the aura subtly different. Its shoulders rolled with a precision Om didn't recognize. The lips parted, and in a clear voice, the clone said:
[Test successful. This body is under my control.]
Om's heart skipped. "It… it worked."
The clone stood up smoothly, brushing dust from its clothes. It didn't feel like looking in a mirror anymore. This was himself—but not him. Zero had taken residence within.
Om's original body stayed seated, staring at the clone as his mind reeled. He was sharing vision, sensation, consciousness with two perspectives at once—yet now, one of those perspectives moved independently, guided by Zero.
"This…" Om whispered, his own voice trembling in awe. "This is beyond what I imagined possible."
Zero flexed the fingers of its borrowed hand, gazing down at them.
[The integrity is flawless.]
[No deterioration, no rejection.]
[This clone is indistinguishable from your true body at a cellular level. Even the Sanskrit patterns embedded within the flesh are functional.]
[But the molecular structure of the body is in crystalline structure similar to diamond.]
"…now," Om muttered slowly, "you can move freely in this second body. Without interfering with me directly."
[Correct. This gives us tactical advantage. Two fronts of combat, perfect synchronization. One consciousness cannot be deceived by illusions, since the mind is singular. One body may fall, yet the other remains.]
A shiver passed through Om at the possibilities. He remembered the time he had been cornered, wounded, nearly broken in fight with assasins. What would have been different if he had another him, fighting at the same time?
The thought was intoxicating.
But then, caution slid into his mind. "Zero… is there a limit? Will this… other me survive forever?"
The clone tilted its head, the expression eerily similar to how Om himself would react.
[Unknown. The phenomenon is unprecedented.]
[The energy source—the pond—is now depleted. Without it, replication cannot be repeated.]
[The stability of this second body must be tested.]
Om exhaled sharply. He rubbed his face, frustration biting him. "…So, we don't know how long this will last. Could be permanent. Could vanish tomorrow."
[Correct.]
Om stared at his other self. Two versions of himself, sitting in a cavern surrounded by sleeping beasts. His chest tightened with both awe and unease.
He muttered under his breath, "This changes everything."
For a moment, silence lingered between them. Both bodies—his and the clone's—took a steadying breath together. It was uncanny, unnatural, yet strangely empowering.
Om rose to his feet, and the clone moved in tandem, though controlled by Zero.
Looking around the cavern, Om felt his pulse quicken. Dawon still slumbered, massive chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Dev was collapsed against the stone floor, face peaceful in unconsciousness. The four apex beasts remained sprawled across the cave, unmoving. The world was frozen in a strange stillness.
And only Om—two of him—remained awake.
"…Zero," he said, his voice steady now. "Let's test this power."
The clone's lips curved faintly, though the voice that came was machine-cold.
[Agreed.]