The campfire flickered, shadows dancing across the tense faces of Rio and his clones. The silence was thick with unspoken truths, each clone feeling the weight of the decision that lay before them. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting.
Clone 5 (whispering): "So... another sacrificial piece. Who should we send this time?"
The question hung in the air like a blade. The first clone who had ventured into the village, still bearing the mental scars of that encounter, stepped forward.
First Clone (resolute): "I'll go again."
Rio (shaking his head firmly): "No. You're not going."
The tone in Rio's voice was unyielding, final. The clones looked at each other, confused.
Clone 3: "But why not? We can respawn. He's willing."
Rio's eyes darkened, his gaze distant, as if staring into a memory no one else could see.
Rio: "Because pain isn't just a moment. It lingers. Every cut, every drop of blood... it's real. The clones feel everything. Every agony. If one of us is tortured, they endure every second of it. Even when the body dies, the pain doesn't vanish. It's remembered. Etched into them."
The clones fell silent, the gravity of Rio's words settling over them like a shroud. They weren't just disposable copies. They carried the weight of their experiences and their suffering.
Clone 4 (softly): "So, who then? Another sacrificial piece?"
Clone 7 (half-jokingly): "Guess we'll draw lots again. See who gets to play the martyr."
A strained laugh rippled through the group, a thin veneer of humor masking the tension. Each clone knew what was at stake, yet they masked their fear with bravado.
---
Into the Village
The lot was drawn. Clone 8 stood, determination etched into his features. He nodded to Rio, who met his gaze with a mixture of pride and sorrow.
Rio: "Remember, no talking. No interactions. Just observe. Get as much information as you can."
Clone 8: "Understood."
With a final nod, he disappeared into the shadows of the forest, the silence swallowing him whole.
---
The Village
The village loomed ahead, shrouded in twilight. The wooden structures were crude but sturdy, built from the thick, ironwood trees of the forest. Clone 8 slipped through the outskirts, his movements silent, his eyes sharp.
He moved through the narrow alleys, careful to avoid direct contact with the villagers. The first rule: blend in, observe. He watched, listened, memorized.
---
Gathering Intel
1. Geographic Insight
Clone 8 lingered near the village center, his eyes scanning a large, roughly drawn map nailed to a wooden post. It showed the village and its surrounding territories, marking rivers, mountains, and forests. They were far to the east of the known world—isolated. The forest they were in wasn't just dense; it was a natural fortress: dangerous but rich in resources.
Clone 8 (murmuring to himself): "Far east... isolated. We're in uncharted territory."
2. Rare Materials
He watched villagers carry bundles of strange, shimmering plants and sturdy, bark-covered logs. The materials were unlike anything he'd seen before—metallic vines, stones that glowed faintly in the dark, and wood that looked as tough as steel.
Clone 8 (noting mentally): "These materials... they must be common to the villagers, but to us? They could be rare. Valuable. The trees alone could be used for armor, weapons."
He trailed a group of villagers to a small forge, where they molded the materials into tools and weapons. The craftsmanship was crude but functional. If they could master these resources, they'd have an advantage.
3. Cultural Understanding
The villagers communicated in a language of harsh, clipped sounds. He noted their gestures and routines. They were a tight-knit community, wary of outsiders but disciplined. A rigid social structure, with clear hierarchies.
Clone 8: "They're not just villagers. This is a military outpost. They're organized. Trained."
His observations painted a clearer picture of the challenge ahead. This wasn't a simple village—they were in enemy territory, surrounded by potential threats.
---
The Map
As the evening deepened, Clone 8's eyes kept drifting back to the map in the village center. It was the key to everything—locations, resources, potential threats. But taking it now would be suicidal. The villagers were alert, their eyes sharp.
Clone 8 (thinking): "If I take it now, they'll know. They'll follow. Rio could be in danger. No... I'll wait."
He melted back into the shadows, biding his time. Midnight was his window.
---
The Midnight Heist
The village was quieter at midnight, the air thick with the scent of burning wood and the distant echoes of nocturnal creatures. Clone 8 crept back to the map. The night concealed him, every step deliberate, every breath controlled.
He reached out, carefully prying the map from its fastenings. For a moment, it felt like the entire world held its breath.
Then he ran.
---
Return to Rio
The forest blurred around him as he sprinted back to the camp, the map clutched tightly in his hand. Branches whipped past, the shadows familiar yet foreboding. When he finally burst into the clearing, Rio and the others were waiting, tense.
Clone 8 (gasping): "I've got it. The map. And... so much more."
Rio took the map, spreading it out. His eyes flickered with a mix of relief and resolve.
Rio: "You've done well. This... this changes everything."
The clones gathered around, their confusion replaced by a spark of hope. They had a plan, a direction. The pieces were falling into place.
And for the first time, they weren't just surviving—they were preparing to conquer.