Under Liko's and Gast's utterly stunned gazes, Jason transformed into a Ceruledge.
Sleek violet armor covered him from head to toe; at the joins of his shoulders and arms, the same purple ghostfire burned as on the real thing across from him.
The resentment-forged arm-blades—down to the sheen of energy flowing along them—matched with uncanny precision. Even that cold, haughty aura that seemed to seep from the bones—he mimicked it to perfection.
For a moment, there were two identical Ceruledge on the field.
Liko's sapphire eyes went round; her small mouth fell open. Gast hovered motionless, zipping twice around Jason's Ceruledge form to look him over from left and right. If not for the familiar presence she still sensed, she might have thought someone had swapped Jason out.
Jason… seemed stronger again!
The real Ceruledge, after a heartbeat of shock, quickly regained its calm. It looked him up and down, eyes full of open disdain.
"Hmph, parlor tricks," it rasped. "You think looking like me means you can beat me?"
To it, this was just a Ditto's death throes. You can copy shapes, but not hard-won combat sense. A clumsy imitator never beats the original.
What it didn't expect was that Jason—still in Ceruledge's body—actually nodded, taking it seriously.
"True. If we traded straight one-on-one right now, odds are I wouldn't win," he said in a tone of reluctant agreement.
He meant it. It was his first time in this form; he needed time to learn the body. And the opponent's strength was real—he could feel it, only a notch below the two clan leaders from before. A head-on slugfest would be forcing it.
Hearing this "capitulation," the scorn in Ceruledge's eyes deepened. No more wasting time. While that human girl was distracted—finish the Ditto and the Haunter.
"Since you know it—then die."
With a roar, it struck first. Its torso dipped, the ground underfoot crazed with cracks, and the knight became a purple blur; twin blades drew two fatal fire-lines for Jason's vitals. Fast, ruthless—no quarter.
"Good!" Jason barked under his breath. He wasn't fluent yet, but he wasn't afraid. He set his stance, legs pushing off to meet the attack.
Clang!
Twin resentment-blades crashed midair, a hiss of metal-on-metal, a gust whipping grit from the floor. First clash decided the gap: an irresistible force hammered down Jason's arms, numbing them; his just-familiar body slid back several meters before he planted his feet. The true Ceruledge only rocked and flowed into a second flurry—relentless, airtight; each cut simpler, faster, heavier—pure killing craft honed in battle.
Jason fell behind at once—an awkward apprentice against a veteran master, forced to rely on Transform-instinct to block and slip away.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Blades rang in rapid-fire. Under Liko's and Gast's anxious stares, Jason's figure looked precarious amid the storm—dodging death by a hair again and again, violet armor already nicked with shallow white lines.
"Too weak!" Ceruledge pressed with both steel and words. "Trash that can only mimic appearances—be gone!"
A heavy chop pinned Jason's blades. As it went to finish him—
Jason, held down, showed no panic. The corner of his mouth tipped up—scheming.
His pinned left wrist flicked at a wicked angle, and a translucent hexagonal pane of pure light snapped into being before him.
Reflect.
"What! How do you know that move?!"
Ceruledge's pupils pinched. Only a few in its clan knew that trick—how could this mimic?
No time to think—the heavy blade struck the wall. Vmmm! The light shivered, but didn't break; a soft force bled the savagery from the blow—nearly halving it. In that instant of slack—
Jason seized the opening.
His right arm whipped, knocking the blade aside as he stepped in; the ghostfire on his blade flushed dark purple.
Poison Jab.
Shhk!
The thrust was quick and mean, punching into Ceruledge's left flank.
"Nnh!"
A pained grunt. It felt an alien energy racing in through the wound—stacking on the poison it had picked up earlier when it stepped on Toxic Spikes fighting Jason's Glimmet. Old venom uncleared—new venom added—both layers compounded, and its motions hitched.
Worse—the Poison Jab hit far harder than expected—the previous poison state amplified the strike. It sprang back, staring in disbelief.
"Y–you… how can you use those moves?!"
Jason casually flicked his blade, tone matter-of-fact. "Oh, that? I know plenty more."
He'd learned Poison Jab watching Glimmet; with the Ceruledge entry unlocked, general moves like that came with him.
Waves pounded Ceruledge's mind. Reflect, Poison Jab—too much. Even its clan leader knew less. Wariness crept in; the carefree aggression died. What else did this fake have?
Curiously, in the exchanges that followed, neither used Fire moves. For Ceruledge, it was obvious—its Flash Fire made it immune; if the copy had the same trait, fire would only tickle—or "charge" it. Jason omitted Fire simply because he knew Flash Fire was useless to hit.
The fight stalemated—until, with time, Ceruledge realized something horrifying:
It was falling behind.
It had been on top at first. But now—the enemy was getting faster. Every slash missed by a hair, and the counter hit first. More than once, Ceruledge had barely started a swing when pain bloomed—Jason's strike landing early. Defense held, damage small—but being a beat slow everywhere drove it mad.
"Why are you… faster?!" it snarled after a narrow dodge.
Purple afterimages sketched Jason's path as he slipped its now-clumsy cuts. "Oh, that?" he said lightly. "Simple."
He stopped in front of it—blades crossed in a guard—and grinned. "Bet you didn't expect this."
"My Ability is Weak Armor."
Weak Armor: when hit by a physical move, Defense falls and Speed sharply rises.
Thunder cracked in Ceruledge's head. It understood. Every "clean hit," every blow it thought had put it ahead—had only fed the foe's Speed. The harder it hit, the faster the other got. It had been set up—since the moment the copy took its form and played weak to lure the rush.
"You—!"
Fury and fear surged—but Jason wasn't giving it another inch.
"This ends now."
He vanished. This time, he was too fast to follow—only violet lightning danced around Ceruledge's body. It flailed—but its swings crawled in slow motion next to that speed.
Shhk! Shhk! Shhk! A staccato of steel biting flesh—fresh wounds blooming.
Jason stopped behind it, right blade raised; Dark energy coalesced at the tip in a black point—
Night Slash—for the vital.
"Goodbye."
With the soft declaration, the blade flashed—irresistible—and speared into Ceruledge.
"Nn—"
It froze. It looked down at the blade through its chestplate, disbelieving. The ghostfire guttered like a candle in wind and died. The big body swayed—and toppled face-first with a thud, kicking up dust.
With the arrogant knight down—out cold—the air felt clean again.
Ceruledge-Jason stood still, blade held in the finishing pose. He looked once at the felled foe, then lowered his swords. A beat later, he melted back into Ditto.
Jason exhaled long. Transforming into Ceruledge burned far more mind and body than Glimmet or Tinkatuff—especially that final overclock; he'd nearly flown out of himself.
Good thing the result was good.
A black blur zipped up to him—Gast. Her big eyes shone with worship. She circled his floppy body, poking here with one big hand, patting there—curious at his strength and eager to show off her hands.
"Jason, you were amazing~" she sang, worry and tension gone. "I was stunned! Two identical Ceruledge dueling—so cool!"
Then her tone dipped. She floated in front of him, fingers fidgeting together, and mumbled, "I thought—since I evolved—I could finally help you in a big way. But in the end you solved it all by yourself…"
Her voice trailed small, a little crestfallen.
Jason couldn't help but smile. "No way—Gast was awesome, too. If you hadn't paralyzed it with Lick and kept it busy with Shadow Ball, I never would've found the opening."
"And after evolving, you're much stronger—faster, your moves hit harder. I can trust you to cover my back even more now."
The unvarnished praise blew away her little gloom. Flustered warmth bubbled up; if a gaseous face could blush, hers did. She shrank shyly and hid behind those big purple hands, peeking at him through the fingers—like a love-struck girl who'd just been praised by her crush.
~~~
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