A hierarchy exists within the ranks of Buezrith's egos.
So have achieved little in their pursuits, while so have co close to the strongest—the 'main' self. As the tides of mobs pour into Zircon, so dense they consu a significant portion of sunlight, Claire finds herself facing a formidable opponent.
''Hah... hah...''
''Keep going. I'm far from being satisfied.''
Having eliminated several clones, the heroine has initially gained so confidence. After all, her hard work has finally paid off. She wields the holy sword, which has been upgraded again by the goddess, and with the guardian Skylar by her side, it doesn't feel as though she can be stopped.
That is, until a certain version of Buezrith stands in her way.
In terms of appearance, she doesn't differ much from the others, though her smile seems sowhat more enigmatic. The enemy holds Claire in place with patience and leisure, even creating a barrier to prevent anyone from interfering.
''Huu...''
The heroine inhales sharply.
The distinct tallic scent enters her nose—it's her own blood. The weight of her sword has never been heavier, and the sun hasn't been shining brighter upon this forest, even by a little amount.
To Claire, every breath feels like sharp needles pricking against her lungs. Still, she, the heroine, has to fight. There is no one to rely on for this now, only herself. She can expect no heroes to co and save her, for she is the heroine herself. And above all... the person she admires has never run away from a fight.
If she hadn't chosen to learn from that example years ago, then she wouldn't have co this far.
So, Claire, even in her battle-worn state, poses a smile that's brimming with hope. Behind her, Skylar furrows her brows at the heroine's current state, ''Child...''
''...Don't worry. I have a plan.'' Claire whispers. ''We won't lose here.''
That said, Claire doesn't intend to keep going like this. She isn't an honorable knight, and this isn't an honorable duel. She refuses to back down, but also refuses to sacrifice herself for so little.
After all, isn't she standing on Zircon soil? If she doesn't rely on her teammates—the people she has bonded with thanks to Aurora, then who should she rely on? Even now, perhaps they are also finding ways to break in. She can only analyze carefully while fighting and find an opening.
As Claire pushes forward, dragging her light-clad holy sword, the opponent responds adeptly. A thick shield of dark magic blocks the way, behind which stands a composed Buezrith. A dozen magic bolts manifest around the woman in less than a second, all aid at the heroine, forcing her to instinctively pull away, clashing against her own montum.
Having wasted stamina, Claire's movent speed takes a hit. Despite that, the heroine further sidesteps the incoming attack, yet she can't help but groan at the dominance Buezrith shows.
At this level, the fights beco less about raw firepower and more about techniques and experience. As every opponent possesses the strength to effectively end every other opponent in a single strike, it is vital to wear them down while showing as little weakness as possible. Such is the fighting philosophy applied until the god's level, as affird by Neveah.
'I still have a long way to go, huh...'
Claire chuckles to herself, deprecatingly.
Giving herself a harsh slap on the cheek, the heroine shoots herself at Buezrith again. By this point, the light on her sword has beco noticeably dimr, though the power it carries still appears to be effective against Buezrith's dark magic.
Mimicking Slenderman's movents, which she has faced many tis before in mock battles, Claire swings her sword nimbly at her opponent, like whips striking, while zooming around the target. Perhaps, on the mindset of wanting to wear her out, mixed with a touch of overconfidence, Buezrith only creates half-shields to block the holy sword, leaving lots of openings—ones Claire cannot access at her current state.
As if taunting her.
As the skirmish accelerates into hyperspeed territory, Buezrith still faces Claire with a leisurely smile. She allows even more attacks, letting the heroine get agonizingly close to injuring her body.
Until the mont when she finds the perfect opening.
'I can land a hit!'
Clenching her teeth, Claire draws power from the holy sword, giving herself a burst of power. In half a mont, a silver, ethereal gleam escapes her sword's golden-white case. The light of the blank soul, with its unique property, is squarely thrust into Buezrith's torso.
''Kgh...!''
At the sa ti, a blade of darkness pierces through Claire's abdon, and at its base sits the opponent's hand.
With another groan, the heroine wobbly kicks herself away from Buezrith, a slight grin spotted on her face. Though they have exchanged a hit, Claire should co out on top cleanly. After all, the chance of Buezrith escaping from having a piece of blank soul shoved right into her body is...
''...Huh?''
Yet, Claire's erald-like eyes tremble at the sight of her opponent, of the light that briefly shines but ultimately dims under the swirls of dark magic. Shortly after, Buezrith's wound closes as if it had never been opened, while Claire's stomach keeps burning with intense pain.
''Wondering why it didn't work?'' The woman poses an eerie smile as she approaches the heroine. ''Should I tell you?''
Claire remains speechless, strength leaving her body. This has been her only silver lining—her only chance of winning. Unbothered, Buezrith gently lifts the girl's chin with her finger, whispering, ''That's because I'm the original.''
''...!!''
''Yeah. I wasn't brought here from other realities. This place is my ho. That's why the will of the world can't hurt .''
''No...''
When Claire's face pales rapidly, shrouded by anxiety and disbelief, Buezrith finally feels satisfied enough to chuckle, ''You and I—we're the rare 'genuines' in this world. Think about it. Doesn't it seem like our world has been intruded upon by too many beings? In a way, our battle here feels quite unique, isn't it?''
''...''
''The clash of the heroine and the big, bad evil—classic. But then again... I guess not too many will bear witness to the end of it. Like this planet, we're but grains of sand in an endless universe, destined to be swept away by cosmic forces.''
The heroine now has her head down, unmoving. One can barely feel her weakly trembling shoulders up close, her dainty fingers that are clinging to her bloodied stomach, and the despair pressing on her slender fra.
Buezrith's smile deepens. Ever since the other version of herself arrived in this world and demanded control, she hasn't been quite as happy as she is now. While the other egos, on top of their designated soul pieces, have a certain other aspect neutralized, she, as the original, doesn't have to comply.
Unlike those clones whose hostility and envy for the overlord are extinguished, she remains whole as a person. And as a human with greed, she can't help but covet what the overlord has—the things that should have been hers.
So, she clings to a hope—and that hope is none other than Claire, the original bearer of the world's fate.
Or, the original protagonist.
''Claire.'' She calls. ''I have a proposal.''
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