"Would you stop copying me!" Lucius roared.
For the past hour, his Doppelgänger had mirrored his every move. If Lucius paced the room, the clone paced beside him. If he stretched, the clone stretched. When he lay down, the clone lay down too. It wasn't obedience, no, Lucius had tried dozens of times to command it. The truth was worse: the Doppelgänger simply wanted to be annoying. He even tried to absorb the rest of the resources as Lucius did. This time, Lucius poured the extra resources into the Helios pathway, which let him reach the silver rank.
This was so not worth it. I'm known as the shitty prince… and this is my great ability?
With a groan, Lucius flopped onto his bed, arms spread wide. A single tear threatened his eye.
Thud!
His Doppelgänger threw itself to the ground in perfect mimicry, limbs sprawled out identically.
Lucius tilted his head, glaring. "Why are you doing this?" he sighed.
The clone paused, then smirked with his own face and spoke in his own mocking voice.
"Because I'm trying to get a better feel for what it's like to be you. And I gotta say… I'm not liking it, sir."
"Well, get used to it," Lucius replied, annoyed.
He half-expected a witty remark, but instead the room filled with a sudden glow, bright green light spilling from the floor beneath his Doppelgänger. Then came the final quip:
"Geez, get your rank up. What a shitty master."
With that, the clone dissolved into sparks, vanishing as the time limit ran out.
Lucius exhaled through his nose. So… at Bronze Rank, Stage Four, I can only keep him active for about an hour… An hour too long, what an annoying guy.
…
The next day, the Helios kingdom stirred with unease. The first day of fall had arrived, softening the usual oppressive heat. The sidewalks no longer scorched the soles of boots, but inside the city walls, the people still burned, this time with tension, dread, and anticipation.
"Our reports show Boreas will reach our shores in less than three days," a commanding female voice rang out. She stood tall atop a stage, addressing a sea of Scions. "Two armies approach: a smaller force from the south, and a larger company pressing from the north."
The woman was built like a fortress, every line of her posture radiating authority. Her red cloak bore two emblems—the golden sun of Helios, its rays etched as sharp triangles, and below it, a blazing orange fist crushing stone. On the opposite side of her chest gleamed three stars: the mark of a commander.
The Helios army's hierarchy was clear and merciless. Soldiers with no stars filled the ranks, Scions like Lucius. One star denoted an officer, tasked with leading small squads on minor missions. Two stars marked a company captain, commander of a hundred Scions. Three stars belonged to battalion commanders, powerful yet often still untested by actual war. Four stars were warlords, seasoned veterans who commanded multiple battalions. And five stars… five belonged only to one man. The supreme commander. The king of Helios himself.
The woman commander's voice cut sharply across the room, heavy with authority.
"This battalion will be responsible for the southern front."
Her words sparked a wave through the crowd. Murmurs rose, not fear, but excitement. Scions lived for war, and the promise of bloodshed electrified the air.
Only one boy stood out to her. The newest addition to her battalion. The one whose name carried more weight than anyone else's. The prince, the fragile hope of Helios itself, and here he was… yawning.
"Soldier Lucius!" she roared.
Lucius stiffened instantly, snapping to attention.
"Yes, ma'am!" he barked.
Hundreds of eyes cut toward him, burning with envy, hate, and even spite.
Loreia narrowed her burgundy eyes. "Tell me… is there an invisible ice cream floating in the air?"
Lucius cocked an eyebrow and shrugged.
"Maybe. I can't really see invisible things."
The room erupted with laughter. For a moment, the mighty commander flushed crimson. Then her expression hardened like iron. A suffocating wave of pressure rolled off her, magic thick enough to freeze the marrow in every Scion's bones. Silence devoured the room.
"I see… so you can't see invisible things," she said, tapping her chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Well then… I think the floor is visible. Why don't you drop down and give me five hundred pushups!"
Lucius didn't argue. His cocky grin dissolved as he hit the ground and started pumping out pushups, sweat already breaking across his brow.
I don't think I've ever been scared of a woman before. But she's different, she is terrifying.. This is Commander Loreia…
The name carried its own legend: Loreia, the Iron Fist of Helios. The strongest Scion in the kingdom, her power already rivaling the Stage 8 record that no one had touched in history. Broad-shouldered, her frame was a blend of raw muscle and sharpened beauty. Her burgundy eyes, however, carried nothing but death. To stand against her aura was to invite annihilation.
Loreia resumed her speech as if nothing had happened, her tone measured but heavy.
"It is believed the northern Boreas army is nothing but a ruse to draw our numbers away. But if we do not respond, they will invade. And if we fail in the south, they will also invade. The next three days are critical. Each of you will receive orders, and our battalion will be split into companies to hold the lines."
The room held its breath. The only sound was Lucius's grunts as he kept pace with her command.
Then Loreia placed a hand over her chest, her voice ringing like a war drum.
"I expect nothing less than an absolute slaughter."
The battalion erupted. War cries shook the hall, Scions stomping and pumping their fists, their blood ignited by her words.
Lucius winced as boots trampled over his hands mid-pushup. He shouted curses at the offenders but didn't dare stop. Not with Commander Loreia's eyes somewhere above him.
She was too terrifying to disobey.