Amidst the chaos of the city, a spatial appeared in mid-air before expanding into a corridor which a figure walked out of.
Blake emerged, radiating no aura at all, but that was exactly what immediately captured the attention of all the angels locked in battle. His aura was like a still lake even in the midst of chaos, unbothered by the battles going on as if he were sightseeing.
As their eyes fixated on him, a collective realisation washed over them. They exchanged startled glances, their expressions morphing from confusion to disbelief.
For moments that felt like an eternity, their gazes moved back and forth between Blake and the clone. The truth hit them like a bolt of lightning, they had been entangled in a frenzied struggle against a mere clone.
A chill swept through the ranks of the angels, a shared sense of foreboding settling in their hearts. It was common knowledge that clones were universally recognized as inferior replicas.
