Chapter 5 — Twin Blades of Death
"Let's go."
Denken stepped forward first, his boots echoing faintly against the cold stone floor as he descended into the bottomless darkness ahead. Richter, Laufen, and the others followed closely behind, their movements cautious yet determined.
Lain hung back at the rear of the group, one hand resting instinctively on the hilts of the twin swords secured at his waist. The faint glow from the magic lamps embedded in the walls revealed the long, spiraling staircase that seemed to drop endlessly into the tomb's depths. Shadows twisted and stretched unnaturally, making the walls appear alive.
"Watch your step," Denken warned, his eyes scanning for traps.
"Ancient tombs like this are usually riddled with them. One careless move and we could trigger something deadly."
The group had only advanced a short distance when a sudden movement caught their attention. A group of gargoyles—stone abominations with bat-like wings and twisted bull horns—lunged from the walls and ceiling. Their grotesque faces twisted into silent snarls as they attacked with shocking speed.
Lain reacted instantly. With a spring, he planted his foot on the massive stone fist of a swinging gargoyle, using its momentum to launch himself into the air. His body twisted mid-flight, and his right leg descended like a battle axe.
Crack!
The gargoyle's neck snapped under the overwhelming force. Its massive stone head was flung across the hall, tumbling end over end before shattering on the ground. The decapitated body collapsed with a thunderous crash, scattering rubble across the floor.
"Well done," Denken said with a rare smile, nodding in approval.
"It seems our group is hiding an exceptional warrior."
"Ah!"
But their relief was short-lived. Almost immediately, Lüge triggered a hidden trap. A section of the wall slid shut, sealing her off on the opposite side.
Lain acted without hesitation, slashing at the barrier with his sword—but the steel simply bounced off harmlessly. "Miss, smash the bottle! Escape first! Your life is more important than anything!"
Moments later, a sturdy golem emerged through a section of broken stone, carrying Lüge safely in its arms as it sprinted toward the maze's exit.
"That golem… it's unbelievably strong," Laufen exclaimed, eyes wide with astonishment.
"I didn't expect someone to be eliminated so quickly," Denken added, regret shadowing his face.
"Let's keep moving," Lain said calmly, already refocusing on the path ahead.
The group pressed forward in tense silence.
Then, in unison, both Lain and Denken stiffened. Their eyes turned sharply toward the same point in the darkness.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of deliberate, measured footsteps echoed from ahead, sending chills down their spines.
A figure emerged slowly from the shadows. She wore a high-slit dress, a playful bun hairstyle accented by side bangs, and a face that was… identical to Laufen's.
Everyone froze.
Laufen pressed a hand to her mouth, her wide eyes reflecting utter shock.
"Th-That is… me?" she whispered.
The "Laufen" who stepped forward raised her hand, ready to strike—but Denken moved faster, erasing the replica with a precise beam of magic.
"I've never seen a replica achieve this level of accuracy before," Denken said gravely, lowering his staff.
"Everyone… from this point on, stay alert. Things are about to get dangerous."
With that warning, he led the group cautiously onward.
Lain deliberately hung back. He had no intention of confronting a high-level replica head-on—not with his current strength. Waiting for the real Frieren and Fern to arrive would be far safer.
---
After passing through a massive stone gate, an oppressive wave of magic hit them, almost like a physical weight pressing against their bodies. The energy was ancient, vast, and carried a languid, almost cruel calm.
In the center of the hall, a petite figure awaited. Silver-white hair, pointed ears, and that unmistakable staff in her hand.
It was Frieren.
But something was deeply wrong. Her eyes, once bright and alert, were hollow and lifeless. Magic radiated from her so densely it seemed almost tangible, thick enough to distort the very air around her.
"Everyone, halt," Denken ordered, his voice taut with tension. He held his staff horizontally in front of him, sweat beading on his forehead.
"I… I really want to smash my bottle and escape right now," he muttered under his breath.
"You're kidding…" Richter whispered, barely able to breathe as he stared at the replica.
"We're seriously expected to fight something like this?"
The Frieren replica slowly lifted her staff.
In an instant, the entire hall was drained of magical energy. Countless miniature magic circles bloomed in the air, each one brimming with destructive potential. The pressure was overwhelming, suffocating.
"Run!" Denken shouted, low and urgent.
Without hesitation, the group turned and bolted toward the gate. The sound of stone crashing and explosive energy followed them relentlessly.
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shook the hall, dust and debris filling the air. They didn't stop running until the magical pressure had lessened enough to breathe freely.
Denken leaned against the cold stone wall, chest heaving, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Lain.
"Lain… you knew this would happen, didn't you?"
"Just a bad feeling about what awaited ahead," Lain replied calmly, his back resting against the wall as if he hadn't been running for his life just moments ago.
At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed from another corridor. The real Frieren and Fern appeared, side by side, their presence immediately stabilizing the chaotic magical energy around them.
"Now we wait," Lain said quietly, sitting down in a corner.
"The rest is up to them."
After a brief recovery, everyone except Lain returned to the hall. Frieren and Fern entered together, their presence radiating authority.
The hall shook as a terrifying surge of magic erupted from them, a force so powerful it seemed capable of reshaping the very stones around them.
---
Before long, the chaos inside the hall settled.
As the dusts settled, they saw Frieren tending carefully to an unconscious Fern.
Fern's robes were torn and singed, her staff missing—evidence that she had given everything she had. Her breathing was shallow but steady, a testament to her endurance.
"We won?" Laufen shouted, her voice a mix of disbelief and joy.
"Yes," Frieren confirmed, putting away her staff. A faint sheen of sweat covered her face, and her shoulders sagged slightly, betraying fatigue.
Just as relief began to wash over everyone—
Lain's hair suddenly stood on end.
The next instant, a pitch-black shadow plummeted from the ceiling at a speed too fast for the eye to follow.
Its target—Laufen, completely unaware, about to celebrate.
"Watch out!"
The stone tiles beneath Lain's feet shattered explosively as he vanished in a streak of motion, leaving only a blurred afterimage behind.
CLANG—!
Twin blades met with a deafening crash, sending sparks scattering across the floor.
Lain's eyes widened. The attacker wasn't just anyone—it was a man wielding dual swords, dressed identically to him, radiating the same presence.
His own replica.
"Another big problem," Denken muttered, his brows drawn tight.
The replica Lain twisted through the air with inhuman agility, landing lightly before springing off the ground again. He became a whirlwind of steel and shadow, charging like a storm unleashed.
Lain drew a slow, deliberate breath, a cold, ruthless gleam flashing in his eyes.
"Fine… I'll play with you to the end!"
The air itself seemed to shatter as the two Lains collided midair. Twin blades clashed in a furious dance, the ringing metal echoing like hundreds of hammers striking in unison. Shockwaves rippled through the hall with each strike, sending dust and small stones skittering across the floor.
Among all the mages present, only Frieren's eyes could track their movements with clarity.
Laufen raised her staff, instinctively wanting to help—but her gaze couldn't keep pace with the ghostlike duel. She tried to edge closer, desperate to contribute.
"Don't interfere!" Denken snapped, pulling her back with a forceful grip.
"At this level of close combat, even the smallest misstep would shred us to pieces."
Boom!
A crushing downward strike from the two Lains collided with bone-rattling force. The recoil shattered the stone beneath them, spiderweb cracks radiating outward in every direction.
Lain twisted to the side, narrowly dodging a horizontal slash that could have decapitated him. He countered instantly, driving his knee into the replica's abdomen with brutal precision.
The replica did not evade. Taking the strike head-on, his right-hand blade shot upward at a bizarre, deadly angle—aimed straight for Lain's throat.
A move designed for mutual destruction.
Lain jerked his head back just in time. The blade skimmed past the tip of his nose, the icy wind it carried cutting off a few strands of hair from his forehead.
"Frieren, are you just going to watch?!" Lain shouted without looking away from his foe.
"Do you still intend to pass the exam—or not?"
Only then did Frieren react. She raised her staff, magic gathering rapidly at its tip.
Several black magic bullets tore through the air, crackling with lethal energy, sealing off the replica's escape routes. Each shot hit its mark with surgical precision, forcing the dark doppelgänger into a corner, its options shrinking by the second.