The camp lay heavy under the weight of silence. Around the flickering fire, the clones stared at the scattered ironwood shards. They had everything—a map, information, and a plan—but no weapons. The irony was almost cruel. Victory lay within reach, yet an insurmountable wall loomed before them. The clones exchanged weary glances, frustration etched into their features.
Rio sat cross-legged, eyes fixed on the glowing embers, deep in thought. His body was worn, hunger gnawing at the edges of his focus. The others mirrored his condition—faces gaunt, movements sluggish. Days without food had drained their strength, and morale had plummeted.
Clone 4 broke the silence, his voice bitter. "We have the map. We know the village's weaknesses. But what good is all that if we can't arm ourselves?" He kicked a shard of ironwood, the solid piece refusing to budge.
Clone 8, always quick with a comeback, smirked, though the usual spark was absent. "What are we supposed to do? Charge in with sticks?"
A half-hearted chuckle escaped Clone 5. "Might as well. They'd probably laugh us out of the village."
No one laughed. The grim reality of their situation pressed down like a suffocating blanket.
Clone 7 crossed his arms, voice low. "We can't shape the ironwood. It's too tough, and we don't have the tools. Even if we could, none of us know how to forge weapons." He glanced at Rio. "We need a solution. Fast."
The silence deepened, broken only by the crackling fire. Hunger twisted in their bellies, and despair gnawed at their resolve.
Clone 3's voice trembled with irritation. "We haven't eaten in days. We can't fight like this."
Another clone interjected, a hint of defiance in his tone. "Technically, we don't need food. We're clones. If Rio eats, it's enough."
"But I want to eat," Clone 3 snapped. "I want to feel the warmth of food in my stomach. We've been starving for days!" His eyes darted to Rio, accusation lurking beneath the surface. "Even Rio hasn't eaten. Look at him."
Rio's hollow eyes met theirs, weariness evident. He didn't argue; he couldn't. The truth hung heavy in the air—they were in no shape to conquer anything.
Clone 6 attempted a weak joke. "Why not just grab some sticks and charge in? Maybe we'll scare them with our desperation."
The silence that followed was suffocating. No one was in the mood for humor.
Desperation thickened the air until Clone 2's voice broke through, hesitant but hopeful. "Rio, what about your cloning ability? Maybe... there's something in the system?"
Rio's eyes flickered with confusion. "Cloning? What do you mean?"
Clone 2 frowned. "Not the ability. The system! Your inventory!"
A collective realization dawned. Rio's eyes widened, shock washing over him. How could he have forgotten? The system. The inventory. The very tools that had sustained him through countless trials. He had been so consumed by their new reality that it had slipped his mind entirely.
The clones stared at him, incredulous.
Clone 5 shook his head. "You're telling me we've been starving, weaponless, helpless, and you forgot about the inventory?"
Rio didn't respond. His heart pounded as he whispered, "System interface."
A translucent blue screen materialized, hovering in front of him. Stats, abilities, and inventory details scrolled across it, glowing in the dim light. The clones crowded closer, eyes wide with awe and disbelief.
Rio's fingers trembled as he navigated the interface, the forgotten treasure trove of resources unfurling before them. Weapons, materials, artifacts—everything he had collected over countless quests. Items he had stored and forgotten.
Clone 8's voice was thick with disbelief. "How... How could you forget this?"
Rio didn't answer. Shame clawed at him. He had been their leader, their anchor, and yet he had overlooked something so vital.
Clone 4's eyes locked onto a particular item in the inventory. "Food." The word was almost a prayer.
Without hesitation, Rio accessed the stored provisions. The clones watched as bundles of preserved rations appeared, piled high on the ground. The aroma of long-forgotten meals filled the air, a scent more intoxicating than any victory.
They fell upon the food, tearing into it with desperate hunger. Laughter and sighs of relief replaced the heavy silence. Strength returned to their bodies, hope rekindled in their eyes.
Amidst the chaos, Clone 3's voice cut through. "Rio, what else do you have in there?"
Rio scrolled through the inventory, eyes scanning the list. Weapons—rare, powerful ones—appeared. Armors, materials, tools. And then, something caught his eye. An artifact-grade material.
It was a small, cube-shaped object, pulsing with a faint glow. The clones gathered around, curiosity replacing exhaustion.
Clone 6 whispered, "Is that... an artifact-grade material?"
Rio nodded, awe in his voice. "It's an Architect Cube. It can shape materials into whatever we need. Swords, armor... anything."
Clone 7's eyes widened. "There's a catch, though. Artifact-grade materials always have limitations."
Rio's fingers hovered over the cube. "It can be used five times a day. But... if the materials are compatible, it can shape them in bulk."
Silence descended again, but this time it was different. Charged. Hopeful.
Clone 8 grinned. "It's perfect. We can shape the ironwood into weapons and armor."
They set to work immediately. The Architect Cube pulsed as it transformed the ironwood shards, molding them into sturdy weapons and armor. Each piece was a masterpiece—stronger than steel, lighter than air.
Clone 4 marveled at a newly-forged blade. "This... This changes everything."
Rio's voice was steady, a hint of resolve returning. "We have the tools. We have the plan. Now, we prepare."
The camp buzzed with activity. Armor was fitted, weapons tested. Every clone moved with purpose, the earlier despair replaced by determination.
Clone 3 clapped Rio on the shoulder. "Next time, don't forget something so important."
Rio managed a weak smile. "I won't."
As dawn approached, the clones stood ready. Clad in ironwood armor, weapons gleaming, they were no longer a desperate band. They were an army.
Rio's eyes scanned the horizon, the village hidden beyond the trees. "This is it. The beginning of everything."
The clones nodded, faces set with grim resolve.
Clone 8 grinned. "So... when do we strike?"
Rio's voice was a low growl, filled with quiet fury. "At dawn. This village has no idea what's coming."
The forest seemed to hum with anticipation. The clones disappeared into the shadows, silent and deadly.
Victory awaited.