"You… what kind of soul is this?!" For the first time ever, 500's voice cracked. His distorted tone wavered as his threads trembled in the air. "How can you split yourself into so many fragments and not get erased?"
Before him stood a legion — over a hundred Tylers, all in their female form, each gripping an Abyssal Trident that gleamed with abyssal light. They did not waver, did not break. Their unified gazes bore into him like a tide of mirrors.
Mana's voice resonated inside the copper pot where the original Tyler sat cross-legged, her tone half-teasing, half-serious. "I thought that copper pot couldn't copy souls."
