With the level Caine's Will had reached, it was nearly impossible to create a clone of him without his consent. Even if an entity like Fate attempted it, Caine would imdiately sense when a replica of himself had been made.
His existence was his own domain to control.
But this… the figure standing before him… he could tell it wasn't a clone. It was him. Truly and actually him, pulled from the past and brought to this mont in ti.
As realization dawned on Caine, his past self ca to a similar conclusion. Unlike Caine, who struggled to comprehend why such a mont had co to pass, the past version of himself seed entirely indifferent. He accepted the situation in a heartbeat.
"I suppose my plans have borne fruit," he said calmly, his gaze shifting to the distant horizon.
His eyes were cold, calculating, and distant—a predator's gaze. It was as if he were always on guard, always devising counterasures, always analyzing the world for flaws to exploit.
A true predator. A true monster.
Slowly, his gaze returned to Caine. Their eyes locked, and his past self gave him a once-over before shaking his head.
"Strange," Past Caine remarked, his tone dripping with disdain. "You seem… dull. I would have expected my edge to be sharpened by the wonders of freedom, but…"
His gaze narrowed.
"I suppose this artificial period of teenage developnt will eventually forge a form of myself—or should I say, ourselves—greater than anything I envisioned before."
He sighed, his disappointnt palpable. "Still, it's disheartening that such emotional instability and idiocy would affect even ."
Caine, having long since recovered from his initial shock, chuckled at his past self's words.
He understood them, of course. How could he not? But instead of being offended, he found them amusing.
How could this version of himself possibly understand what he had beco? What he had endured?
"The echo of my voice truly is a gnawing parasite that eats at the mind, isn't it?" Caine mused. "Perhaps Nova's dislike of us wasn't entirely unwarranted after all."
Past Caine raised an unimpressed brow. "Not only have I beco an emotional sack of conceited waste, but I've also turned into a talkative little fox?"
He sighed dramatically. "Oh, Lord, what have I done to deserve such a bleak future?"
Genuine sadness rippled through his tone, outwardly exaggerated yet undeniably real.
Caine smiled, his amusent clear. "Says the curious little bastard. Instead of trying to rattle answers out of , just ask. Why on earth would I hide anything from myself?"
Caine knew himself too well. If their positions were reversed, he would have done exactly what his past self was doing: fishing for information by baiting his future self into an argunt. What better way to coax the truth out of soone than to insult their character and provoke a defensive response?
But at the end of the day, Caine wasn't just himself. He was an older, far more experienced version of this Caine—a version with depth his past self couldn't fathom.
"Don't play gas with ," Past Caine snapped, shaking his head. "You'd purposefully lead astray, you little venomous snake."
"Judging by the surprise on your face, you didn't know this mont would occur. That ans my mories of this instant will most likely vanish."
Caine laughed openly at this. "And yet you still tried to bait for information. A superior form of what you are, and you still dared to call the snake? You stupid, arrogant brat."
Uriel, who had been standing behind Caine all this ti, watched the exchange with wide eyes. The two versions of Caine bickered and insulted one another with increasing intensity, their sharp words striking like sparring blows.
What was going on? Why did the air between them feel so charged?
[Conquer the Fracture of Ti and Fate (0/6)]
The ssage flashed in Caine's mind.
The platform beneath their feet trembled and shifted. Caine and his past self were separated, moved to opposite ends of the platform. In the middle, a massive stone tablet rose from the ground.
Uriel appeared in the air above them, his aura heavier and more imposing than before.
"Fate has ordained a ripple through ti, and thus it will occur," Uriel declared, his voice booming with the authority of a sovereign.
"Present and Past shall vie for truth."
"This will be an Artes Ignition."
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An Artes Ignition—a battle centered around the Nine Great Arts, where only one could erge victorious. A trial that tested the very essence of one's artistic path.
WHOOOSH!
Nine rings appeared behind both versions of Caine as they began to circle each other, moving in deliberate, asured steps along the edge of the platform.
"The Artes Ignition will be lawless, encompassing all nine disciplines," Uriel announced. "Begin."
Uriel vanished, leaving the two Caines alone on the platform.
Caine—Present Caine—watched his past self closely, analyzing every movent. He had no intention of underestimating himself, especially not this version of him.
Past Caine, or Oldest as he'd decided to call him, observed him with equal scrutiny. His gaze betrayed no reaction, even as he studied Present Caine's nine rings.
The tension was palpable.
Oldest waved a hand, and in an instant, twelve massive white formations materialized in the skies above. Each formation was etched with complex jagged runes, their layers interlocking to form a web-like pillar.
Oldest's extended palm closed into a fist, and the pillar exploded into a brilliant tapestry of colors that dyed the world.
From the swirling colors, butterflies began to bloom, their delicate wings fluttering through the air in a hauntingly beautiful display. The skies echoed with their presence, a symphony of visual and auditory art.
Caine remained silent, observing. With a wave of his own hand, he began to work.
What did an Artes Ignition an? How could one win? It surely wasn't a simple matter of combat.
The answer was obvious — victory would go to the one who created the most complex, beautiful, and authentic piece of art using the Nine Arts.
This was not a battle of brute strength. It was a clash of pure artistic vision and Will.
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