Beat up

The mimic attacked again.

Kael braced as he swung his sword— But he was too slow. It caught his strike mid-air, twisted his wrist with bone-snapping precision, and slammed a foot into his stomach, sending him airborne again. His back hit the floor with a wet crack, breath ripped from his lungs like paper.

He gasped, coughed, and groaned. Then stood up.

Again.

The mimic didn't charge this time. It waited. Like it knew he'd get back up.

Kael wiped blood from his mouth, vision doubling, sword arm trembling. "Okay," he wheezed.

"Maybe I'm… not as good looking as I thought."

The mimic tilted its head, a perfect mirror of his gesture. Smiled, and said, in his exact tone: "Maybe this one's friendly." Then charged again.

The next few moments were a blur of pain. Blade to ribs. Knee to shoulder. A pommel strike to the jaw that rattled his vision. Kael kept swinging and kept getting punished for it.

The mimic wasn't just copying him—it was evolving around him. Improving on his weaknesses. Mocking him with every flawless move.

"Stay down, idiot!" Theo suddenly shouted from the edge, barrier magic glowing faintly in his hands as he shielded him from an incoming blast.

A blur of silver flew past him. And the mimic was sent flying backward. It hit the far wall with a resounding crack, dust exploding around it.

Kael blinked, stunned, as a shadow moved past him.

Seraphina. Her sword drawn. She didn't say a word. Just walked calmly toward the mimic, her blade glowing faintly with white heat.

The mimic rose, shaking slightly. It stared at Seraphina for a moment and smiled again. Then slowly its body pulsed—melted—and took shape again.

This time… Seraphina. Identical height. Sword. Expression. Eyepatch and all.

They stood across from each other. Two perfect mirrors.

Kael, still coughing, turned to Theo, who was now by his side. "Took you guys long enough."

Theo gave him a blank look, utterly deadpan. "We thought it was personal."

'Lying bastard.' Kael narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't have the energy to argue.

The mimic moved first. It darted in with the exact same stance Seraphina used earlier, a blur of practiced precision.

But this time, the mimic met something different. Unlike Kael, who was immediately sent flying, Seraphina blocked the strike perfectly, twisted under its blade, and retaliated with a sharp upward slash that nearly caught its chin.

The mimic backflipped, copied the move, and lunged in again.

For a moment, it was like watching two gods duel. Blade met blade in a whirl of motion too fast for the eye. Dust swirled. Sparks flew. But only one of them was fighting to end it. Seraphina never flinched.

She moved like she wasn't trying to match the mimic,she was dismantling it. Cutting into its timing. Slipping past its defenses. Predicting its next steps before it even made them.

And then— An opening. The mimic overextended just slightly on a horizontal swing. And Seraphina stepped through it. Her sword flashed— Once. Twice. A final, brutal diagonal cut.

The mimic froze. Then cracked straight down the middle.

Its stolen face—her face—split apart as the body liquified into yellow sludge, melting across the arena floor and fading into steam.

Silence.

Kael sat there, jaw open slightly, dumbfounded.

Theo gave a low whistle. "Well… She could probably beat ten of you combined."

Kael, still marveling at what he had just witnessed, murmured, "Make it twenty."

Seraphina turned to the group, slid her sword back into its sheath with a soft click, and simply said: "Next time, don't let the clown fight alone." Then she walked off to her corner, leaving them in stunned silence.

Kael blinked. "Why don't I feel offended?"

"Because you are a clown," Theo mumbled, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"..."

Rylen clapped slowly from the edge, his grin back to full power. "Ten out of ten performance. Would pay to see it again."

Kael flopped flat onto his back and groaned, his body still aching. "Just get Liri, please."

******

The air in the chamber began to shift. Faint particles of golden light drifted down from the ceiling like falling ash. Then, the Archive appeared, notifying them of their victory.

...

[Gate Two Guardian Defeated]

[Key Obtained]

[Team 417 – Status: Pass]

[Preparing for Transition: 5 Minutes]

...

Everyone let out a breath they hadn't realized they were holding.

Everyone had been worried that that might have not been the actual guardian.

Kael slumped against one of the smoothed arena walls, his legs refusing to support him any longer. Liri was at his side immediately, her hands glowing soft green as she gently pressed them over a forming bruise on his collarbone.

"You really do attract trouble," she whispered with a tired smile.

Kael tried to smile back. "If I say I'll stop, do you think the universe will listen?"

"Doubtful."

Her spell pulsed through him, comforting and warm. The sharp pain in his ribs finally dulled to a manageable ache.

Everyone waited in silence. No words were needed. They'd survived. Even though just one of them had been beaten to a pulp.

The floor beneath them began to glow. Runes, etched deep into the marble, lit up with vibrant blue, spiraling outward from the center of the arena. The ground rumbled—soft at first, then stronger. A faint hum filled the air, like the sound of thousands of strings being pulled taut.

"Here we go again…" Theo muttered, adjusting his glasses.

The runes flashed once— Then everything shattered. The chamber dissolved into light. Kael felt weightlessness. There was no wind, no gravity. Just silence and motion.

Like being flung through a thousand strands of glowing thread. He tried to speak—but no words came out. He couldn't even feel his own body.

And then—

Thud.

He landed on something solid. Grass? He slowly opened his eyes.

There were sounds now. Voices, footsteps, movement. Kael blinked. And blinked again. The transition magic faded, and the world finally returned to clarity.

He was standing on a wide stone platform, surrounded by thick white clouds below and a faint shimmering sky above. The platform connected to other platforms with arched bridges—and on each one were people. Lots of people. Candidates. Hundreds of them.

Maybe even thousands. All of them in the same black or blue uniforms. Some sitting, some standing, others recovering.

"What's this all about?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet.