Mark sprinted through the forest, dodging trees with agile leaps as he desperately fled from the terror behind him. He scaled a towering tree in a few swift movements, using the branches as a launching point to jump back down to the ground. The maneuver gained him some distance from the monstrosity, but the sound of snapping trees and crunching underbrush echoed through the forest, closing in fast.
"Shit, how did I run into that bastard so soon?"
As he continued to flee, a thought suddenly struck him:
'It's crazy, I've been here for so long, yet I still don't have the Armorment or a clear sword skill.'
He halted his escape and turned to face the terror that was felling trees behind him, its relentless pursuit forcing him to confront his inadequacies head on.
"Okay, let's try this again," he thought, his grip tightening around the long black scythe that materialized in his hand. He had dedicated himself to mastering the slash, practicing every day without fail. Without a defined fighting style, this was his sole recourse. With a swift motion, he merged the scythe's twin blades, forming a sleek, long handled sword or spear, its blade stretching as far as the handle.
As the monstrous creature charged towards him, its eyes blazing with fury, he waited with calculated patience for the perfect moment to strike. When the behemoth was close enough, he channeled his energy into the scythe-spear-sword, and with a lightning fast slash, he cleaved the monster in two. A moment later, a resounding "WHOOSH" echoed through the air, the sound of his blade slicing through the air.
This time, his slash was flawless, a marked improvement from his previous attempts, which had ended with him barely avoiding splitting the ground apart. The scythe-sword seemed to hum with power.
As Mark sat on the ground, laughing, the scythe transformed back to its original state. He couldn't believe it, one slash had taken down the monster he had feared for so long. He had studied it, searching for a weakness, but found none in the previous month. Yet, here it lay, dead at his feet. His laughter echoed through the area, but he didn't notice the sound of something moving on the ground.
The slash, his only strong attack, had drained him significantly, which was why he was lying on the ground, laughing in exhaustion.
"Haha, I'm officially the strongest around here," Mark said, not out of victory, but from relief that the threat to his life was gone. Or so he thought.
Unbeknownst to Mark, the monsters blood had been flowing towards a single point, and after a few minutes of his resting, the blood formed into a humanoid figure. It assumed all of Mark's features, creating a perfect copy of him. The duplicate looked at itself, as if given new life. Mark only noticed it when it moved, and his reflexes kicked in, he jumped away with his scythe, surprise etched on his face.
What was he looking at? A mirror image? No, a copy of himself. As he stared in fear, a smile crept onto his face as he thought:
"If something is too good to be true, it's too good to be true."
The monster, now a perfect replica of Mark, stretched its new body, and a voice, identical to Mark's, spoke:
"So this is how it feels to be human. I don't like the emotional aspect, but the body is perfect."
Mark gripped his scythe tightly and spoke:
"Don't praise my body."
The duplicate smirked:
"Your body? This is my body. You'll be killed, and I'll remain the only owner of this vessel." As it spoke, the same scythe that Mark had materialized in its hand, a eerie identical image of Mark's weapon.
"Okay, this is definitely going to be challenging. I can't beat myself, no, it must be the perfected version of me. What skill did it use? I've seen countless abilities since these monstrosities appeared, but what is this? It copied me whole!" Mark's mind raced as he stared at the duplicate, which had assumed the same fighting stance as him.
The duplicate's movements were identical to Mark's, its scythe held at the same angle, its feet planted in the same position. It was as if Mark was staring into a mirror, but this reflection was alive, and it was determined to defeat him.
Remon and Ariana stepped into the imposing building, its logo - a stylized "W" crowned with a globe, gleaming like a beacon. Remon trailed behind his sister, his face somber, as if he sensed a storm brewing. They approached the elevator, and Ariana pressed the topmost key. The doors slid open, revealing a serene garden that defied expectation. The air was redolent with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the soft chirping of birds created a symphony of tranquility. It was a haven so enchanting that once you entered, you'd never want to leave.
As they strolled deeper into the garden, a vision of loveliness emerged. A man with long, golden hair that flowed like the ocean's waves turned to face them. His features were chiseled perfection, his face a masterpiece of beauty. Every aspect of him exuded an ethereal aura, as if he embodied the ideal of humanity. His voice, like the harmonious notes of a violin, sent shivers down their spines:
"Go back, you failed," he declared, his tone a gentle reprimand.
Ariana's voice was laced with humility as she replied:
"We know we failed, but the one they sent was stronger than us, and the first official gate is about to open." Remon remained silent, his eyes fixated on the enigmatic figure before them, his expression a mask of quiet contemplation.
The man's radiant smile illuminated the surroundings, casting a warm glow over the serene garden. It was as if the divine had descended upon them, blessing them with an otherworldly presence. His lips curved into a gentle, knowing smile, and his voice resonated like a benediction:
"That's indeed wonderful news! With this development, we shall venture into the uncharted realm and claim it as our own dominion."