Mark hesitated, readying himself to enter the cave. The sky was clearing up, and venturing into his duplicate's lair seemed like a wise decision, for now at least. But was it really? Mark knew his duplicate might have returned when the sword rain began, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he'd have to face it soon. He stretched his muscles, preparing for the unknown, before stepping into the darkness of the cave.
"Don't enter, I'll come outside," a voice called from within the cave. Mark stepped back, allowing the speaker to emerge. Zico slowly walked out of the cave, his eyes fixed on Mark. When he reached a meter away, he spoke in a detached tone:
"It's been a while, Mark."
Mark's mind raced as he tried to recall the face, but the voice sparked a memory. He remembered Zico, the one who had both saved and tried to kill him.
"Zico," Mark replied, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and wariness.
The wind blew silently, carrying the weight of their complicated past. Their last encounter had ended with Zico leaving Mark to die, yet Mark didn't feel anger. Instead, he sensed a hint of mercy in Zico's actions, as if he had spared Mark's life despite his initial intention to kill him.
Zico's gaze remained cold, his tone indifferent, as he asked:
"Should I kill you now or after you tell the story of how you survived?" Mark noticed a change in Zico, a chilliness that hadn't been there before. He seemed more detached.
"I don't know, but you've changed," Mark said, his eyes narrowing as he adopted an Orthodox stance. His missing arm reappearing with a green glow, his hands raised behind him. A sly smile spread across his face:
"Maybe I don't remember you well enough... Whatever, I've also changed."
Zico's gaze remained icy as he produced two daggers from thin air:
"You're sure you want to fight right now? I don't see you winning, even in my worst-case scenarios."
Mark snorted, a long black scythe materializing in his hand:
"We're going to fight anyway, why postpone it?"
In an instant, both mark and Zico vanished from their positions, reappearing in a flash of movement. Zico blocked Mark's scythe with his daggers, the clash of metal on metal producing sparks and crackling noises that filled the air. The two continued their deadly dance, their movements lightning-fast and precise.
"Two humans if front, there strong but nothing compared to me " Henry said, his voice dripping with arrogance as he strolled towards the fight. His third eye, the one on his forehead, gleamed with an otherworldly intensity, as if it served a purpose beyond the capabilities of his other two eyes.
As he drew closer, his third eye beheld the auras of the two individuals before him. Their life forces were immense, a sight that brought a sinister smile to Henry's face. "I'll relish devouring those two energies," he sneered, his eyes gleaming with malevolent intent.
Zico and Mark clashed at lightning-fast speed, their movements seemingly invisible to the naked eye. They were so fast that if someone were to look, they would only see afterimages. Zico showed no signs of fatigue, but Mark was already battered and bruised, his breathing labored. The fight had only been raging for 30 seconds, and yet Mark was on the brink of exhaustion.
Despite his weariness, Mark wielded his scythe with precision, but Zico's daggers were quicker, weaving and parrying the scythe's path with deadly accuracy. With each strike, Zico's blades sliced through the air, cutting Mark with precision and ease. Mark stumbled back.
"See, I told you I would give you power," a voice whispered in Zico's mind, but he swiftly silenced it with a thought: "Shut up, or I'll crush you."
Zico approached Mark, who lay on the ground, breathing heavily:
"Zico, that monster inside you will kill you... I don't know why you let it in, but whatever, I'll kill you together," Mark said, his voice weak but determined.
"Staying here has made you lose sight of reality?" Zico asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Why do you say that?" Mark replied, his brow furrowed.
"So your intelligence has diminished... Couldn't you see that I'm not even putting in an effort to kill you?" Zico sneered.
"Do I look like I was putting in any effort?" Mark retorted, his strength waning, but he refused to admit defeat.
Just then, Zico raised his dagger and stabbed Mark. Mark didn't scream, but his eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh, let's test that, shall we?" Zico said, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light.
Mark knew he couldn't do anything, but he spoke anyway:
"You've become soft... Let me show you real strength."
Just then, a voice interrupted them: "Would you two stop kissing already?" Henry said, walking closer to the pair.
Henry halted before them, his presence commanding attention. Mark's gaze met Henry's, and his initial thought was:
"What the hell is this devilishly handsome bastard doing here?" Mark's envy of those with above-average looks simmered beneath the surface, his own average features a constant reminder of his inadequacy. But Henry's chiseled face and ominous aura made Mark's resentment simmer.
Zico, driven by instinct, attacked Henry without hesitation. His mind raced with warnings from his duplicate, screaming that Henry was a threat. No time to admire the enemy's face, Zico struck with precision. But Henry didn't flinch. He let the dagger reach his neck, and Zico's eyes widened in shock as it failed to cut him.
Henry's smile was a cold, calculated gesture as he kicked Zico away. Zico stumbled, landing hard on the ground beside Mark, who was rising to his feet:
"Ouch, that got to hurt," Mark said, dusting himself off with a smirk.
Zico sprang up, his eyes blazing with determination, and attacked Henry once more. Mark joined the fray, his scythe slicing through the air with deadly precision. A sinister grin spread across his face as he revelled in the chaos.
The air was electric with tension, the three warriors locked in a dance of death. Henry's aura pulsed with an otherworldly power, drawing Mark and Zico in like moths to a flame. The outcome was far from certain, but one thing was clear: only one would emerge victorious.