Tadashi Kurose sat cross-legged in the corner of his dorm room, staring at the space in front of him like it might bite him.
For the past hour, he'd been trying—and failing—to summon his so-called clone.
The evaluation had been three days ago, and the sinking feeling in his gut hadn't gone away. Cloning wasn't rare. In fact, it was practically boring compared to other abilities. People could conjure firestorms, bend time, or reshape matter. Meanwhile, Tadashi had been handed the Awakened equivalent of an office assistant.
Still, if this was what he had, he'd make it work.
He inhaled deeply and focused.
"Clone."
The air rippled.
Tadashi flinched as a shape formed in front of him—shimmering, unstable—and then solidified.
There he was.
Or rather… there it was.
A perfect copy of Tadashi Kurose stood before him, dressed in identical clothes and staring straight ahead. No emotion. No movement.
It was like looking at a mannequin wearing his skin.
Tadashi circled it slowly. "Creepy…"
The clone didn't react.
"Raise your arm."
It obeyed instantly.
"Lower it."
It followed the command without hesitation.
Tadashi stepped closer, squinting into its eyes. Nothing. No flicker of recognition. No spark of life.
"Can you talk?"
Silence.
The clone just stood there, waiting.
Tadashi shivered. "Yeah, definitely creepy."
But not useless.
...
Experiment 1: The clone could lift exactly what he could. It matched his strength, flexibility, and reflexes down to the smallest detail.
Experiment 2: It followed instructions perfectly. Whether folding clothes, reorganizing his bookshelf, or mimicking martial arts moves he barely remembered, it did everything without error.
Experiment 3: The weirdest discovery.
He told the clone to read a book—a boring economics textbook he hadn't touched since last semester.
The clone didn't just read it. It devoured it, flipping pages at an almost mechanical pace. When it finally dissolved into mist an hour later, Tadashi collapsed onto his bed—his head suddenly full.
He knew the contents of the book. Every word, every concept.
Not just memorized-understood.
Tadashi sat up, heart racing. "What the hell?"
The experiments continued for the next two days.
His clone could fight. Train. Study. Even meditate. And every experience, every skill, every moment it spent learning came back to him.
But something felt weong.
While others described their abilities as pulling from mana—a universal energy source—Tadashi felt nothing like that.
No mana drain. No exhaustion. Just a strange ache deep in his chest.
And the more he summoned his clone, the heavier that ache became.
....
Late at night, Tadashi sat at his desk, notebooks scattered around him. Pages filled with hastily scribbled theories and observations.
He tapped his pen against the desk, staring at the words he'd written:
No mana usage.
Clones disappear, but experiences remain.
Persistent chest ache after summoning.
He froze, the pen slipping from his fingers.
"No way…"
Heart pounding, Tadashi stood and summoned his clone again. It appeared instantly, as if waiting for his call.
He reached out and touched it. For the first time, he focused—not on what it looked like, but on what it felt like.
A faint pulse.
Not a heartbeat. Something deeper.
Tadashi staggered back, eyes wide.
"It's not just a clone."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
"It's my soul."
A part of him, pulled free and given physical form.
And if that was true, then his ability wasn't just different—it was dangerous.