Meanwhile, Gabriel slowly raised his right hand.
The Mana had subsided, yet the pressure in the air had not fully dissipated.
"This is an evaluation," he said flatly.
His gaze swept over the Seven Shades—then shifted to their clones standing opposite them.
"You are not strong enough yet," he continued calmly. "Therefore… you will surpass your own limits."
The campfire crackled softly. And beneath the lingering pale glow of Mana, Shadow Garden entered its next phase.
Gabriel snapped his fingers.
In an instant, the clones' bodies—once pale white—changed, gaining color, texture, and details nearly indistinguishable from the originals.
"Fight yourselves," Gabriel said. "They share 99% similarity with you. So… take this seriously."
Without hesitation, the Seven Shades activated their Slime Weapons. On the other side, the clones did the same—their movements synchronized, almost identical.
Both sides stepped forward.
One step.
And—
Thunk!
Gamma's clone suddenly stumbled over empty air and immediately flipped gracefully… before losing control of her sword.
The blade was sent flying into the air.
With perfect reflexes, Gabriel stepped back half a pace. The sword stabbed straight into the ground right in front of him, trembling softly.
"…"
Gabriel glanced at the sword briefly, then smiled faintly.
"Remember?" he said casually. "They have ninety-nine percent similarity."
His gaze shifted to Gamma, who had frozen in place.
"That means," he continued, "they also inherit the same flaws."
Gamma stiffened, her face turning red.
Gabriel added in a flat yet sincere tone, "Gamma. I have to praise your… unexpected accuracy."
He turned back to the Gamma clone still sprawled on the ground.
"And… good. Your clone is the first to fall."
A brief silence settled over the courtyard—then Delta burst out laughing.
"Gamma lost to Gamma!"
And so, the evaluation training began… in a manner that was unmistakably Shadow Garden—new-generation edition.
***
Ten minutes passed.
Gabriel sat atop a fallen tree trunk—one leg bent, the other hanging loosely.
His black cloak barely stirred, even as a faint wind swept across the base.
Before him, the Seven Shades fought fiercely.
Not against an external enemy, but against reflections of themselves.
If Gabriel increased Gigan's output and tracked Cid's aura beyond the bounded field, he could see what his so-called brother was doing.
And indeed, he could see it.
Cid was unleashing several random slashes. His movements looked meaningless, like pointless practice—yet that was precisely where their perfection lay.
Every swing was repetition, every carelessness a foundation.
Gabriel did not interfere.
He let Cid walk his own path.
And so, Gigan's output was lowered once more.
His attention shifted.
And this time—it settled fully on Alpha.
Alpha's sword clashed repeatedly with her clone's.
Clang…!! Clang…!! Clank…!!
Alpha's footwork was light and precise. No wasted motion. No haste. Yet precisely because of that, her clone was always one step ahead—as if it already knew where the blade would come from.
Alpha frowned.
"…You're waiting for me," she muttered.
The Alpha clone did not reply. It simply attacked—clean strikes, safe angles, correct decisions.
Gabriel crossed his arms.
"Because you always wait for the perfect moment," he said. "And the perfect moment… rarely exists on the battlefield."
Alpha twisted her body, parried, then stepped back once.
"If I'm careless," Alpha replied quietly but firmly, "the others will get hurt."
Gabriel glanced at her.
"And if you're too careful," he countered, "they die first."
Alpha fell silent.
Her sword met the clone's again—this time harder. Closer. The distance between them shrank, until it felt almost like a personal duel.
"You know your weakness," Gabriel continued. "That's good. But you've turned it into a principle, not a choice."
Alpha clenched her teeth.
"…I'm the leader," she said shortly. "I have to make sure everyone comes back."
The Alpha clone thrust straight toward her chest—striking at the exact moment Alpha hesitated for a fraction of a second.
Alpha deflected it, but the tip of the clone's blade grazed her slime shoulder.
Gabriel let out a quiet breath.
"No," he said flatly. "You're the leader. Which means you must be brave enough to be the one at the front."
Alpha lifted her head. Her gaze met Gabriel's—no anger, no defiance.
"…And if I fall?" she asked softly.
Gabriel answered without hesitation.
"Shadow Garden doesn't collapse because its leader falls. It collapses when its leader stops moving forward. If you want to know… that's something that happens again and again in every era."
Silence lingered for a brief moment.
Then Alpha smiled faintly—almost imperceptible.
"…I understand."
She stepped forward.
Not with safe calculations, not with a perfect plan—but with a swift decision. Alpha's strike this time was not optimal… but it was real.
The Alpha clone was late by half a heartbeat.
Bam—!
The clone's sword was knocked aside. Its body staggered back as fine cracks spread across its surface.
Alpha stood there, breathing heavily, then spoke softly.
"Thank you… for allowing it."
Gabriel turned his face slightly away.
"Don't misunderstand," he said. "I didn't give permission. I simply removed what you call the chains binding your potential."
Alpha looked at her clone as it began to crumble.
"…Then," she said calmly, "I'll move forward on my own."
Gabriel's gaze shifted to another area.
There, Beta stood with a slime bow in her hands. Her silver hair fluttered lightly as she moved sideways.
Opposite her, the Beta clone had already drawn its bowstring, an arrow ready to fly.
Twang!
Two arrows shot forth almost simultaneously, crossing paths in midair and shattering before reaching their targets.
Both continued to move, maintaining distance, calculating their positions with precision so as not to interfere with the other battles.
Gabriel watched closely.
"Beta," he called out suddenly.
Beta leapt sideways, narrowly avoiding her clone's arrow, then replied without turning her head.
"Yes, Gabriel-sama?"
"You shoot perfectly," Gabriel said. "Angle, velocity, breath control—almost flawless."
Another arrow was released. The Beta clone returned fire. Both took cover behind separate tree trunks.
"But?" Beta asked, her tone already anticipating it.
Gabriel let out a quiet breath.
"Every arrow you fire carries the same intent."
"Careful. Beautiful. Unwilling to wound more than necessary."
Beta fell silent for a brief moment.
Then she drew her bow again—but this time, her arrow curved sharply, ricocheted off the ground, and emerged from the clone's blind spot.
The clone barely had time to react.
"If I rewrite my intent," Beta said softly with a faint smile, "does the story change?"
The arrow shattered the clone's bow, forcing it to retreat.
Gabriel nodded once.
"Yes," he replied briefly. "And that is why you're suited to be both the recorder… and the shooter."
His gaze shifted.
On the other side of the field, two large scythe blades collided, scattering pale sparks each time Dark Matter met Dark Matter.
Epsilon.
And Epsilon's clone.
Their movements were… beautiful. Too beautiful.
Every swing traced a perfect arc, every angle precise, every posture flawless—as if it were a dance practiced thousands of times.
And that was precisely the problem.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes.
"You're too busy looking perfect," he said flatly.
Epsilon spun, her scythe deflecting the clone's strike with elegant ease before she leapt back. Her pale blue hair fluttered gracefully.
"Perfection is a form of respect toward power," Epsilon replied in a sharp, refined tone. "I cannot fight carelessly."
The Epsilon clone attacked again—a rapid sequence, beautiful, polished… and hollow.
Gabriel clicked his tongue softly.
"No," he said. "Your perfection is a mask."
Epsilon frowned.
"…What do you mean?"
The two scythes collided violently. The vibration rippled through the ground.
"You hide your weaknesses behind technique," Gabriel continued. "And your clone does the same."
Epsilon clenched her teeth, twisting her scythes to break the clone's rhythm—but failed. Their patterns were identical.
"…I'm not allowed to fail," she whispered, barely audible. "I'm not allowed to look bad."
Gabriel looked at her for a long moment.
"On the battlefield," he said quietly but firmly, "the ones who die aren't the ones who look bad."
"If you want to win," he continued, "stop acting."
Epsilon fell silent.
The clone attacked—wide swing, a clear opening on the left.
Normally, Epsilon would have closed that gap with flawless technique.
But this time, she stepped forward with a rough swing—uneven, asymmetrical, and anything but beautiful, yet undeniably real.
Epsilon's scythe smashed into the clone's weapon shaft, forcibly twisting its direction, then followed through with a kick that sent the clone flying.
Cracks spread across its body.
Epsilon was panting. Her breathing was no longer steady.
"…So this is how it feels," she murmured.
Gabriel gave a small nod.
"Good," he said. "That's your real face."
Epsilon did not smile.
But her grip on the scythe… was firmer than ever.
Gabriel's gaze shifted again.
Toward the most… unsurprising scene.
Eta.
And Eta's clone.
The two stood facing each other.
Silent.
Ten seconds.
Twenty seconds.
Eta yawned.
"…Tired," she said.
The Eta clone yawned as well.
"…Sleepy."
Gabriel blinked once.
"Why aren't you fighting?" Gabriel asked.
Eta turned her head lazily.
"Gabriel-sama," she replied flatly, "if I already know I'm going to lose…"
She pointed at her clone.
"…why waste energy?"
The Eta clone nodded in agreement.
"Waste of energy."
Gabriel fell silent for several seconds.
"…You do realize this is a combat evaluation, right?"
Eta nodded.
"I do."
"Your clone shares ninety-nine percent similarity with you."
"Yep."
"…And you still don't want to try?"
Eta thought for a moment.
Then she sat down on the ground.
"If I win," she said calmly, "I'm tired."
"If I lose," she continued, "I'm tired."
"…Conclusion: still tired."
The Eta clone sat down as well.
Gabriel rubbed his temples.
"…Alpha," he called without turning around. "Please make a note. Eta is, in theory, the most honest unit here."
Eta raised her thumb.
"Thank you."
The Eta clone raised its thumb as well.