Since I unlocked the [Dungeon Creation] ability, I've discovered my passion for battle, and I've made it a point to spend at least an hour inside one of them.
The sound of my heart beating in my chest, the blood coursing through my veins, the scrape of my shoes on the floor, and the mental awareness that I could take my last breath in this deadly dance made me feel more alive than ever. The adrenaline pumped through my body, and I experienced an emotional high brought on by the reaper drawing closer, its scythe hovering at my neck… I became addicted to that rush.
However, over time, it stopped being enough. After my first year of ambushing zombies with the help of my weapon and mana, I craved something greater—a higher challenge. Yet, as delicious as that high was, I kept my wits about me and refrained from tempting fate.
That's why I only ventured into the [Skeleton Dungeon] after reaching level 40 in [Spearmanship]. While this might have seemed like an overreaction, as skeletons require nowhere near that skill level, my caution wasn't just for that reason. I didn't want to become the battle equivalent of a drug addict, so I exercised self-control. My [Calmness] benefited from this restraint, allowing me to gain [Addiction Resistance], which became my most developed resistance skill, and [Bloodlust] ceased to revel in my emotions.
To improve my self-control, I began studying martial arts—mundane ones, to be precise. I eventually maxed out my [Meditation] skill. This was beneficial as my [Chi You] skill tree was progressing at a snail's pace, with the highest skill, [Chi You - Armor Form], only reaching level 6.
Yes, five levels in nearly five years.
Initially, I wasn't sure why this was the case. But after practicing aikido at a nearby dojo, I finally understood the reason: my physical stats were lacking.
To clarify, I am better than the average adult, but a god-killing martial art demands more than just human physiology to effectively deliver and withstand blows. I rationalized that the same principle applies to powerful spells—having low INT and WIS means a level one wizard is incapable of casting Wish properly, even if they happen to have a scroll.
Anyway, despite the long tangent, what I really wanted to say is this: I love to fight.
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My clone and I are enjoying our sparring session. Five minutes have passed since we started, and we are still going strong.
During those five minutes, I noticed something: my clone is not just an empty copy of myself; he's a perfect reflection of me. Thanks to my [Cold Reading], I realized that he shares my habits, and he noticed it as well. He baited me with a cocky smile, which I mirrored and responded to, and I now found myself slowly losing ground after he struck my wrist, forcing me to defend against his relentless attacks.
BAM! A direct overhead strike came towards me. I managed to parry it before backflipping into a better position and regaining a firmer grip on my weapon. He didn't hesitate and went for the kill, dashing forward with a stab.
I took a firm stance, trying to deflect his spear using mine. But my reflection had keen perception; he noticed that I was not applying any pressure against him. It was a feint. Letting go of my spear, I sidestepped the spearhead. As it grazed my side, I remained unflinching and pressed forward. I stepped between his legs and delivered a powerful palm strike with my right hand.
He tensed his pectoral muscles to resist the strike, but that proved to be his downfall.
Despite his intense focus, he didn't realize that it was another faint.
The hand jerked up from its trajectory, and although losing momentum, it struck true on his jugular. Yeah, it was a mean hit.
When someone hits your Adam's apple, the first reaction is to take a breath and then use your hands to try to defend it.
And as he exactly did that, he took a step back, I used the feet on his now collapsed stance and interloped with his, making him fall on his back.
Taking the spear from the place he dropped it, I posed, making sure to look cool as hell, and pointed right at his head.
"Yield"
He didn't try and fight, instead relaxing his body and taking a breath.
"Damn, that was mean."
That got me surprised. He didn't talk before.
"Yes, I prepared the scene, with you and me in reversed positions. 'Yield' was even the word I chose to use."
"Sucks to be you then."
"Hey, you are me."
The back and forth continued for a few moments until I discarded the spear and offered him a hand, which he took.
"Well, all this moving around made me hungry. Snack?"
"Sure"
We decided to take a break while munching on a Snickers bar, which I got from the [Shop] at 2 Shards.
I tried taking two but just before I made the second purchase...
"Hold on. I have the same inventory as you, and for each item you buy from the [Shop] here, I obtain a copy of it. No, they are not real. No, you can't sell them."
"Gotcha."
We just relaxed for half an hour before we decided it was time for an explanation.
"So, I'm you, down to the last detail, and unlike monsters inside dungeons, I don't have hate or anything like that. Also, I probably don't have a soul or the equivalent of a normal person?"
"Like a copy from the tutorial in [Hell Difficulty Tutorial]?"
"Exactly like that."
"SO you will try and cheat the system and try to switch with me?"
"Not interested, and I'm not a bullshit older-than-anyone absolute who can do anything."
"Shit, you got the reference."
"No shit, Sherlock."
We continued to play around, making references like I never did before and talking about bullshit situations.
"Did you think we could cause an Identity Crisis for someone in our party if I let them encounter their duplicate?"
"Yes. It will be fun as hell. We'll call it a Ben situation."
And I noticed something else in our discussion. He knew more references than I did.
"So, I'm basically you, but additionally, from your normal memories, I got the discarded memories from drinking the Essence and some others. Yes, I'm nerdier than you. I'm a fan of fan fiction."
"So you're also creepier than me."
"Fuck you."
"No, I'm straight."
And as we continued our discussion, he went and planted the revelations that would cause me a brain problem.
"Yeah, so basically, you're a protagonist."
"Fucking called it."