Alen stumbled backward, clutching at his stomach as blood poured from the wound. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath and struggling to stay conscious.
But even in his weakened state, Alen knew that he had to keep fighting. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand up, his eyes locked on the figure as it lay motionless on the ground.
With a deep breath, Alen summoned all of his remaining strength and charged toward the figure. He raised his fist, ready to deliver the final blow.
But as he drew closer, he saw something that made him hesitate. The figure's appearance had changed, revealing a face that was identical to his own.
Alen froze, his mind racing with questions. Who was this figure? Was it a clone? Or was it something else entirely?
As he stood there, lost in thought, the figure suddenly stirred. It slowly sat up, its eyes locking onto Alen's.
"Who...who are you?" Alen asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
