The beating of the drums pierced the sky. Their roar was like the pounding of hungry beasts' hearts, announcing that blood would inevitably spill.
The arena before him was not just a battlefield… it was an open hell, a massive calcium expanse the size of a city, its stones stained with blood, every crack telling a story of ancient death.
Around the edges, a sprawling graveyard rose, its tombstones leaning as if weighed down by curses. Above them, massive coffins hung in the air on rusty chains, with monstrous creatures banging the drums, their bulging eyes savoring the sight of the coming blood.
Ashen stood in the middle of the arena, his body bleeding from previous battles, but his eyes shone with red madness.
The five-star Blood Frenzy erupted around him: a terrifying blood aura, like a boiling ocean, dancing with the ghosts of death. His power doubled, his speed doubled, even the beat of his heart pounded like a drum inside him.
But… in front of him stood
a distorted version of himself, soaked in blood, broader in the shoulders, heavier in movement, eyes sunk in deep darkness like lakes of death. It was as if a dark mirror reflected his worst self, amplified.
"Hahaha…" the clone's laugh was harsh, metallic, cutting through the air.
"I am you… but without weakness… without mercy… without limits."
Ashen felt a weight pressing on his chest. He was not afraid of fighting… but confusion filled him. He realized that continuing the fight had no meaning; any injury he inflicted on his enemy returned to him the same. His fight with this monster… meant fighting himself.
"Damn it, even if I kill him, I'll die."
Yet hesitation was not an option. In this world, weakness was the greatest sin.
He unleashed Blood Chains. Three red chains sprang from his back, clashing like hellish swords. They rushed forward, piercing the clone's chest.
But at that very moment, pain tore through Ashen's chest, a deep wound bleeding heavily.
The clone smiled savagely: "See? Your blood… is your curse."
And holding the chains, instead of letting them go, she pulled them in, absorbing the blood.
Ashen roared, his body igniting:
"I will tear you apart, even if I shatter a thousand times!"
He summoned the Blood Crocodile. Thick blood scales wrapped his body, a solid iron-like armor making him nearly invincible.
At the same time, he summoned the Blood Bear Fist, his arms swelling with a dense aura, each punch carrying immense force capable of shattering stone.
He charged.
The air tore between them.
Punches clashed.
Bones cracked.
Blood sprayed like rain.
Every hit the clone took left marks on Ashen's body.
Every wound he dealt… appeared on his own skin as well.
The fight was not against an external enemy… but against a harsh mirror of himself.
Could I kill myself… to stay alive?
This poisonous question gnawed at him as he staggered under the blows.
Yet the Blood Frenzy gave him determination, almost like madness.
He kicked the ground with force, sending a wave of blood, along with the Blood Hawk. His claw aura flared on his legs, his speed exploded, his body becoming red lightning.
He appeared behind the clone, striking her with a massive blow, his fist like a hammer hitting her face.
The clone staggered back a meter… but at that moment, Ashen's skull shook, almost breaking from the pain.
He spat blood and smiled madly:
"Hahaha… even if I bleed every last drop… I will not stop!"
The clone licked the blood dripping from her lips.
"You are just a shell, Ashen, a mirror of regret and a reflection of hatred. Sadly, there is no escape today… and I will prove it… with your blood!"
Then she used the same abilities: Blood Chains, the Blood Crocodile, and even Blood Frenzy. But she was not as skilled as Ashen… she was wilder, more savage.
The arena turned into a mutual slaughter.
The stones cracked, the graveyard trembled, even the hanging coffins shook with their collisions.
The drums in the sky grew louder, each beat reminding Ashen that his fate was death, unless he found a way.
…And in the middle of this hell, despair began to gnaw at his heart.
Every attack he made wounded him just as much.
Every step brought him closer to his end.
But his eyes, despite the pain, blazed.
He raised his head toward the massive coffin at the edge of the arena.
Perhaps salvation was there… perhaps the answer… was not in killing, but in breaking the source of its emergence.