Not knowing what to do, I racked my brain, desperately grasping for even the smallest shred of an idea. Before I could formulate a plan, a sword cloaked in a shimmering light blue aura came hurtling toward me. My heart skipped a beat—it was the very manifestation of my own [Sword Aura] skill. Acting on instinct, I threw myself to the side, narrowly evading the blade that could have easily decapitated me if I had been even a second slower.
As I regained my footing, I countered with a swift front kick, my boot connecting solidly with the doppelganger's knee. The impact caused its leg to buckle, sending it crashing to the ground. Spotting an opening, I pivoted sharply and swung my sword down in a powerful arc, the [Sword Aura] radiating from the blade. But it was a futile effort. The doppelganger, mirroring my own skill and tenacity, twisted out of the way and countered with startling precision. My attack was deflected, leaving me at a disadvantage once more.
This grueling cycle repeated itself—advantage followed by disadvantage, each move and counter draining more of my stamina. Every time I thought I had the upper hand, the doppelganger would adapt, turning the tide against me. It was like fighting a shadow that knew my every thought and action before I could commit to them. Frustration and fatigue gnawed at me, and I finally made the difficult decision to retreat and regroup.
I backed off, creating some distance between us. The doppelganger, to my surprise, didn't pursue me. Instead, it stood still, its weapon lowered but its gaze fixed intently on me, as if waiting for my next move.
Panting heavily, I tried to steady my racing thoughts. My mind replayed every exchange, every strike and counter, searching for a flaw in its technique—something, anything—that could tip the scales in my favor. This battle felt like an endless stalemate, neither of us able to deliver a decisive blow. It was a fight that seemed both unwinnable and impossible to lose. Yet deep down, I knew that if I didn't figure out a way to end it soon, exhaustion would make the decision for me.
After almost a minute of looking back at the previous events of the battle a weird feeling began to overcome me almost like I was nearing a solution but couldn't quite grasp it. It felt like it was right there for the taking but for some unknown reason i could never reach it, I started to go insane trying to grasp the idea on the tip of my tounge but before I could go any further the doppelganger began to move forward again with its sword once again raided ready to attack.
Seeing this I knew that I would have to figure it out latter as I got ready for another couple rounds of grouling battle.
After ten more grueling minutes of combat, both my [Sword Aura] and the doppelganger's had finally gone on cooldown. Deprived of the enhanced power and precision that the skill provided, we were left to rely solely on our physical capabilities. My body was screaming for rest, every muscle aching as I approached my absolute limit. The thought of retreating once again to catch my breath loomed in my mind but for some inexplicable reason, 1 decided to try one last desperate gambit.
I dashed forward, swinging my sword in a high, sweeping arc, aiming for the doppelganger's torso. It deflected the strike, just as I expected. Using the momentum of the block, I transitioned smoothly into an elbow strike aimed at its jaw, but the doppelganger
anticipated this too, twisting to avoid the blow. Frustrated, I threw my head forward in a wild, reckless attempt to land a hit.
To my surprise, my head collided squarely with the doppelganger's. Pain exploded in my skull as the impact sent both of us staggering backward. Stars danced in my vision, and I struggled to regain my balance, but before I could fully process what had happened, the doppelganger dashed forward determined to press its attack.
It came at me with a sequence that felt eerily familiar. First, it slashed clumsily with its sword--just like I had moments ago. Then, it attempted an elbow strike that was poorly executed and easy to evade. Finally, it threw itself forward delivering a reckless headbutt that missed as I sidestepped . I barely had time to register it, but the realization hit me like a lightning bolt: the doppelganger wasn't just mimicking my fighting style anymore. It was mimicking my desperation
I backed off, creating distance between us again. This time, however, I wasn't retreating to catch my breath. No, this time was different. A small, triumphant grin tugged at my lips as I steadied myself, my confidence growing. In that wild exchange, I had uncovered its weakness-a critical flaw I could exploit.
The doppelganger could match my skill, my strength, and even my strategy. But it could only do so because it mirrored me, move for move. And now, by forcing it into a state of desperation,I had introduced something it couldn't copy: unpredictability. I finally knew how to win.
To win, I simply needed to break free from my own patterns, forcing the doppelganger to stumble over its own mimicry. It had become clear that its goal wasn't just to match me—it wanted to surpass me, almost as if it was trying to prove itself as the superior version. Knowing this, I decided to push it into unfamiliar territory by doing what I normally wouldn't: fighting unpredictably, chaotically, and inefficiently.
I took a deep breath, conserving my dwindling energy for one final push. Then, I dashed forward, raising my leg high like an axe before chopping down in a clumsy, telegraphed kick. The move missed by a mile, but I didn't let it deter me. Following through, I swung my sword in a wide arc—not for precision, but for speed—before rushing in for a shoulder barge that the doppelganger easily sidestepped.
Each attack was deliberately awkward, far from the practiced techniques I had relied on so far. As expected, none of them landed. I could feel my exhaustion mounting, and my strikes were getting sloppier by the second. But that wasn't the point. Every move I made wasn't just for my benefit—it was a trap for the doppelganger.
Sure enough, it mimicked my sequence with unnerving accuracy. It raised its leg for an awkward axe kick, followed by a haphazard sword swing, and finally, it lunged forward in an attempt at a shoulder barge. Each move mirrored mine exactly—equally ineffective, equally clumsy. Watching it struggle with these unfamiliar techniques, I smirked.
This was it. All I had to do now was wait for the perfect moment. The doppelganger would try to follow my lead no matter what, and that blind devotion to mimicry would be its downfall. It didn't matter that my strikes didn't land—what mattered was forcing it into a rhythm it couldn't handle. My plan was in motion, and soon, the victory would be mine.