I will take care of the rest

Zed gritted his teeth, his entire body tense as if bracing for a blow. His hands shook at his sides, muscles coiled with helpless frustration.

"Why the hell are you so stubborn?! That's enough—I can't see you suffer like this!"

He reached out through their connection, desperate to pull his copy back, desperate to stop this madness.

But the battered figure on the battlefield did not respond.

A ragged breath escaped Zed as a voice slithered back into his mind, cold and weighty like a chain wrapping around his thoughts.

"Master Zed…"

The battlefield blurred. The sound of the wind, the distant murmurs of the stunned crowd—it all dulled into a quiet hum.

"Who—?" Zed's mind reeled. He had never heard this voice before.

"I am Vasuki," the voice whispered, coiling around his consciousness like a serpent.

Zed's breath hitched. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. His soul blade—the weapon he had wielded countless times—had never spoken before. Not once.

Yet now… it did.

"Master, please… pull in your copy. He has done enough."

Zed's gaze shot back to the battlefield.

His copy stood there, unmoving. His fingers twitched. Blood dripped from his mouth, staining the cracked ground beneath him. His mask had shattered, leaving his battered face exposed to all.

And yet…

"He's still fighting… still standing…"

Vasuki's voice deepened, almost mournful. "No, Master. He is not standing. His ribs are shattered. His skull is fractured. He lost consciousness a while ago."

Zed's breath caught.

"Then how—"

"By sheer willpower." Vasuki's tone sent chills through him. "This boy refuses to fall. His body should have collapsed long ago. But his hatred… his desperation… keeps him upright."

A storm of emotions surged inside Zed. This fight—this revenge—mattered to him just as much as it did to his copies. And yet, here he was, watching, powerless to do anything while his copy was torn to shreds.

He hated it.

He hated himself.

He wanted to pull him in. Wanted to end this. But he had made a promise—to let his copy fight, to not interfere.

Zed was drowning in his own thoughts when another voice cut through his turmoil.

"Zed."

Cold. Detached.

Copy 2.

"Pull him in." His voice was devoid of emotion, yet absolute. "He has done enough. I will take care of the rest."

Zed's hands trembled.

His instincts screamed at him. His mind waged war against itself.

But then, as he looked at his battered copy—standing purely on defiance alone—he knew.

It was time.

 "return to me my copy u did well" zed tells and copy one vanishes into thin air . 

all were stunned as it was there first time seeing that only to now realise that he was not a actual human but just a copy .

Ron from the side " he could create such a copy " was amazed . 

roadie seeing it smug " so in the end i was your trick haa " he turns towards zed and walk towards him . 

Roadie's gaze locked onto Zed's.

"Any last words, kid?"

Zed met his eyes, unflinching. His voice was cold, unwavering.

"Yeah. Go to hell."

Before Roadie could react, a blade—coated in a sickly green substance—pierced through his back, straight into his heart. His body jerked.

Then, the blade withdrew—only to stab him again.

Blood gushed from his mouth as his knees buckled. A sharp, wet gasp escaped his lips, his vision blurring.

The entire battlefield fell into a stunned silence. No one had seen it coming. Not even in their worst nightmares.

Then—

"What the hell did you just do, Zander?!" a bandit screamed.

Roadie, trembling, turned his head, expecting—hoping—that it was someone else. That it couldn't be who he thought it was.

But as his vision cleared, the truth struck him like a hammer to the chest.

It was Zander.

His own comrade.

Roadie's body jerked as the dagger twisted inside him. The sharp agony spread like wildfire, his breath hitching, his knees buckling. His mind screamed, but his body refused to respond.

Zander knelt beside him, their faces inches apart, and whispered, his voice a chilling echo of Roadie's own words.

"Death ain't the worst fate… Isn't that what you said?"

Roadie's lips parted, but no sound came out. Only blood.

Zander smirked, watching the light in Roadie's eyes flicker. He yanked the dagger free, only to stab it back in, deeper this time.

"A man robbed of everything," Zander continued, voice dripping with venom. "Made to crawl on his knees, knowing he'll never get his revenge… never get justice. You understand now, don't you?"

Roadie choked, his arms trembling as he tried to push himself up, but his strength was fading.

Zander… he wasn't human. The man standing before him now was something far worse.

Then, Zander laughed. A slow, shuddering sound that built into a manic cackle.

"For months," he muttered, his shoulders shaking. "For months, I waited for this moment!" His laughter cracked as he thrust the dagger into Roadie's ribs once more, savoring the way his enemy twitched.

"Do you know how much I despised you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, but his rage burned hotter than ever. "Every single day, being with you made me sick. I wanted to kill you the moment I joined, but—" He grinned, leaning in. "Where's the fun in that?"

His eyes gleamed with a twisted joy, his hands still drenched in Roadie's blood.

"This… this was never about just killing you." Zander pressed his forehead against Roadie's, speaking so softly it was almost a caress. "You were a tool, Roadie. A means to an end."

Roadie's breath was shallow, his mind hazy. He barely clung to consciousness as Zander continued.

"I used you. Led you like a pig to slaughter. Just like Jaeger wanted, I helped cleanse this land of those corrupted nobles. You thought you were raiding for wealth? No, Roadie… you were carrying out my plan. I fed you information, pointed you toward noble families rotting with greed and power. And you killed them. Every. Single. One."

Zander leaned back, tilting his head as if admiring his work.

"You see, Roadie… I didn't need to dirty my hands. You did it for me. And when the time was right, I gathered all those nobles in one place. Just so they could witness this moment. The great Roadie… a fallen king in the dirt."

His grin widened. "And now, it's time to put on the final show."

With one last twist of the blade, he let Roadie collapse completely, lifeless eyes staring into nothing.

The world had gone silent.

Then—

"Y-you bastard…"

Ron.

He stood, his entire body trembling in disbelief. His hands clenched around his weapon, his eyes burning with fury.

Zander turned to him slowly, as if savoring the moment.

"Ron." His voice was calm, almost conversational. "Where were you planning to go after leaving the bandits?"

Ron gritted his teeth, gripping his weapon tightly before lunging forward, roaring.

But before his blade could even touch Zander, a flash of blue light streaked through the air.

Thin, precise lines carved through Ron's arms in an instant. He stumbled, his weapon slipping from his fingers as pain shot through his body. Blood dripped to the ground. His arms… they wouldn't move.

Zed lowered his hand. The faint glow on his fingertips faded.

Zander exhaled, rolling his shoulders before stepping forward. His boot connected with Ron's face, sending him crashing to the ground.

Ron gasped for air, but instead of delivering another blow, Zander crouched beside him. His expression softened… almost tender.

"Ah, no," he murmured. "I don't want to ruin this moment with unnecessary rage."

He reached forward, gently wiping the blood from Ron's face with his sleeve.

"There," he said with a smile. "Now, let's try this again, shall we?"

He grasped Ron's chin, forcing him to look up.

"Ron," he repeated, slower this time. "Where were you going to go after leaving the bandits?"

Ron swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling erratically. His voice barely came out.

"I… I was going to look for my daughter," he admitted, eyes clouded with something between shame and sorrow. "Settle in some village… live quietly…"

Zander's smile widened. "Ahh, how sweet." He clapped his hands together mockingly. "Well, you know what, Ron? You don't have to look for her anymore."

Something in Ron's face changed. His breath hitched. His fingers dug into the dirt.

Zander's grin grew sharper. "Do you want to see her?"

All color drained from Ron's face. The rage, the disbelief—everything melted away, leaving behind only pure, naked fear.

His lips quivered. "No… No, Zander, please. It's between us. Leave her out of this!"

Zander's eyes glinted in the dim light.

"Oh, Ron," he sighed, shaking his head. "You still don't understand, do you?"

He leaned in close, his lips mere inches from Ron's ear.

"You already met her."

Ron froze. His breath stopped.

Zander chuckled, his fingers digging into Ron's shoulder.

"Do you remember that girl you killed?" His voice was barely a whisper now, yet it rang louder than any scream. "The blonde-haired maiden. The one you cut down… to save me."

The world shattered.

Ron's body convulsed, a strangled sound escaping his throat.

No. No, it couldn't be.

His mind refused to believe it. His heart begged for it to be a lie.

But as he looked into Zander's eyes… he knew.

The truth was worse than death.