Evelyn's POV
I never truly stopped tinkering with the Mirror Image spell my mother had taught me. Every spare moment, I refined it, tested its limits, and tonight I was ready to see the result of all that work.
As I poured mana into the spell, I shaped the construct with purpose. This time, not just a puppet like Arthur, but something more specialized. I pictured a woman in her early twenties—long black hair, sharp brown eyes—dressed in a dark hooded outfit suited for stealth. Her weapons: a bow for ranged combat, and a dagger as backup.
When the figure opened her eyes, she gave me a look that almost felt amused. For a heartbeat, I could have mistaken her for sentient.
I asked, "Do you know who you are?"
Her voice was calm, precise. "I am a construct created by you. I appear to think, but that is only a function of my design."
Good. She wasn't alive, but she could simulate thought well enough to adapt.
"Your name is Sarah," I told her. "Unlike Arthur, you're not built for strength. Your armor makes you as strong as half a third-stage cultivator—but twice as fast. You'll specialize in speed, stealth, and ranged attacks. You can generate your own arrows from mana, so you'll never run out."
She gave a short bow. "Understood."
I continued, "Your role will be different from Arthur's. You'll operate alone when needed. You can contact me directly through your mind, and if you fall, I can recreate you with your memories intact. You're not alive, Sarah—but you're reliable."
Her expression sharpened. "Then give me my first task."
I didn't hesitate. "The Barren Lands. Watch the area, find the vampires who plotted against Lucas, and kill any directly involved."
"The child's safety will be ensured," she replied, and turned without another word.
I watched her vanish into the evening, swift and silent. Unlike Arthur, who needed my constant guidance, Sarah could act on her own. She was faster, more flexible, and perfectly suited for scouting or assassination. And since she carried her own mana core, the miasma of the Barren Lands would not touch her.
Relief welled up in me. Sending her into such a dangerous place carried no real risk—if Sarah was destroyed, I could respawn her with all her memories intact. She was not alive, she could not truly die, and that made her the perfect weapon for high-risk missions.
Arthur was my blade. Sarah was my arrow. And with both in hand, I had taken one step closer to protecting Lucas—and reshaping the battlefield itself.