"Michael Shifuru."
A wave of crimson energy erupted from her, enveloping her body. When it faded, her appearance had changed.
Her pink cheongsam was now a fiery red, its design even more daring than before. New pieces of armor clung to her limbs. Michael, the key, had transformed into a fearsome halberd.
This was the form she took when she unlocked her full potential. Her amber eyes, no longer vacant, now held a sharp, serious focus.
This time, she attacked first.
Seeing that I hadn't yet summoned a weapon, she saw an opportunity for a decisive first strike. She lunged, her halberd aimed at my heart.
" Aeterna Defensio "
A translucent golden wall shimmered into existence between us, just barely deflecting her attack.
…..
Several Minutes Later:-
Mukuro had a new assessment of this second robot.
It felt different from the first. The original had overwhelmed her with sheer speed and power. This one was still strong, still faster than she was, but the gap was much smaller.
Its shield, however, was absurdly tough. No matter how she attacked, from what angle she struck, the shield would appear, perfectly positioned to block her every blow.
But strangely, this one never counter-attacked. It only defended. And all the while, its golden eyes glowed with that same, relentless, analytical light as the first one.
She didn't know what it meant, but she knew a direct assault was futile.
She feinted another forward thrust. As expected, my shield appeared in front of me to meet the attack.
"Michael Tefete!"
On the opposite side, directly behind me, a black portal tore open. A copy of her halberd shot out, striking me in the back where my shield offered no protection.
"Data acquisition complete... analysis complete... mission... accomplished..."
As the words echoed in her mind, my body dissolved into a cloud of familiar golden particles.
Mukuro's eyes widened. This one was a fake, too?!
She scanned the empty void around her, desperately searching for the real enemy she was sure was waiting to ambush her. But there was nothing. The robot, and all traces of it, were gone.
….
…
..
.
At the Same Moment, on Earth:-
Inside a nondescript apartment, a girl with long, violet-blue hair suddenly looked up from the book she was reading. She turned her head, her gaze directed at the sky beyond her window.
Her golden eyes began to glow with a strange, otherworldly light.
….
…
..
.
Success.
The moment my remote unit dissolved, the real me, sitting comfortably in my apartment miles below, knew the plan had worked.
Zafkiel Chet. The Eighth Bullet. The power to summon a clone from a past point in time.
My version of this ability differed from Kurumi's. Her clones were individuals, each with their own consciousness, memories, and desires. Mine were not. They were empty shells, puppets equipped with only the most basic AI, slaved to my primary consciousness.
Like the original Ex-Machina Cluster, I could act as the central command unit, linking them all into a single, cohesive network. But unlike my creators, who were a true collective of individual minds, my clones were merely tools. Unthinking, unfeeling extensions of my own will.
This was a significant advantage. I never had to worry about a rebellion from within, a clone deciding it wanted to be the original.
There was, however, a shared limitation. The clones were weaker than the original. Kurumi's clones couldn't use Zafkiel. My clones, while retaining my full physical capabilities, could only manifest one of my replicated armaments at a time.
Unlike my main body, which could summon every Angel in my arsenal simultaneously, each clone was limited to a single weapon.
But that was a minor issue when one could field an army.
Imagine it. A legion of my clones, each one wielding El Nahash. An entire volley of storm-lances, fired in perfect unison.
The only real constraint was my own processing power. Maintaining the neural link to each clone consumed a significant amount of my operational memory. It was an intensive process, one I didn't use often.
But for a target as unpredictable as Mukuro, it had been the most logical, conservative choice.
Through the data stream shared by my clones, I sat comfortably in my apartment on Earth and completed the analysis and replication of Mukuro's Angel.
A quick diagnostic confirmed that my new Pseudo-Michael was a near-perfect copy. All four of its core abilities [Segva], [Rātaibu], [Shifuru], and [Tefete] were present and functional.
Of all the Angels I had copied so far, only Nia's Rasiel had suffered significant functional loss in the replication process. A thought echoed in my mind: Old lady, your Angel is the most useless of all!
And with that, I had collected nine of the ten primary Angels. Only one remained: Metatron.
Origami Tobiichi. The last girl in the original story to become a Spirit.
As things stood, a significant amount of time would have to pass before that happened. And as I had already determined, I would not simply wait if another path was available.
Furthermore, Mio was now aware of me. I could not afford to linger in this world indefinitely.
Therefore, to acquire Metatron as quickly as possible, there was only one viable option.
….
"So, you came to me?"
Nia looked at me, sitting on her living room sofa watching TV, her tone a mixture of confusion and resignation. A golden portal had opened in the middle of her apartment without warning, and the familiar mechanical girl had stepped through.
After I had rescued her from DEM, Nia had used her own Angel, Rasiel, to learn about Ratatoskr, the organization dedicated to helping Spirits.
Seeing no threat, she had promptly tracked Shido down and, after a brief introduction and some minor verification, moved into the Spirit-only apartment complex they provided.
This was where I had been hiding while my clone engaged Mukuro.
After I explained the situation to her, Nia hadn't objected to my presence. She owed me her life, after all. A little trespassing was easy to forgive.
"I understand the situation," she said, plopping down on the sofa next to me. "But I don't see how I can help you."
She had tried. The moment I mentioned being targeted by the Spirit of Origin, she had attempted to use Rasiel to look up information on Mio. But her Angel, for the first time, had come up completely blank.
I knew why, of course, but I didn't tell her. My reason for being here wasn't to use her Angel to find Mio. I already knew who and what she was.
"You'll see soon enough," I replied simply, my eyes still fixed on the television.
Nia was intrigued. She could use her Angel to find out what I was planning, but where was the fun in that? Forgoing her manga drawing for the afternoon, she decided to simply wait and see what I had in store.
….
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