Why are there dozens of copies of
standing in front of the dungeon entrance?
What’s with that other Seraphina from that photo?
And why do I not sense any life from these beings standing before ?
At least I understand what Clara ant when she said that I would need to wait, so as to cause ‘confusion in their ranks’.
But what is it that she knows that I don’t?
So part of her statent was a lie; I know that beyond a doubt.
She knows more about
and about this Project Seraphina than I do.
It’s the only way that she would have known that this was going to happen.
More and more questions pop in my head, and yet, I know this isn’t the ti to ask.
Now is the ti to act, and I will purge these cheap imitations who dare to wear my face.
Each of the sixty-four Seraphinas standing in an eight-by-eight phalanx wears its— I refuse to call them ‘her’— own eclectic armor.
So of them even have tal-colored left arms like my own.
Others have other appendages that look like they were salvaged from the scrapheap.
The shoddy craftsmanship sickens , but by that sa stroke of fortune, I’m able to blend right in.
[Dinsional Rift] makes this too easy.
Simply teleport right behind the army of impostors, rip one of them out of formation, then drag the phony behind the nearest shrub.
Stab it in the gut.
Oil, not blood.
So sort of Ethertech android.
That makes a lot more sense than organic clones of .
It also makes it easier to do what I was going to do anyway, cleaving its head from its neck with a single slice of Filia’s edge.
No Experience awarded, but excising the violation is a pleasure all its own.
Still left questions of why this, why , and why in the unholy annals of fuck do these silicon copies have the ability to [Glyphcast]?
It’s inelegant, just random assortnts of elental magic being strewn about with no real finesse.
But a lack of finesse doesn’t detract from the fact that each individual spell is still powerful, thousands of points of [Ether] being thrown about each second between the group of them.
I phase back into the open spot in the formation.
The one next to
turns toward
for a brief mont, but as less than a second passed since I disappeared with the imitator, it doesn’t do anything but glance in confusion before returning to its assigned task.
“Hold your position,” Agent Duvall’s voice echoes in my consciousness.
“If you can throw so inconsequential blasts around while avoiding striking any agents, that would help reinforce your guise.
Avoid using too much [Ether]; you will need it for what is to co.”
Just more stealthy prodding, reminders that I’m stuck playing the role of good little pawn in a sche much broader than that of which I’m currently aware.
However, I can throw so blasts.
I am so damn tempted to have them accidentally land on my doppelg??ngers; their very existence fills
with nightmarish rage.
But I hold myself back, reminding myself that so many lives depend on
not screwing this up.
As I throw around simple beams of [Light] and blades of [Wind], controlling my [Ether] output precisely, I notice that the agents are retreating, and moreover, that most of them are suffering no real damage from the attacks that profess to throw them back.
It appears like a complete rout, the agents playing the role of actors, their poor attempts to show panic and pain going unnoticed by the autonomous Seraphina-bots who advance forward with robotic precision.
All the while completely unaware— if they even are sentient in the first place— that they are but lambs being led to the slaughter.
I alone among my fakes can see the agents and soldiers regrouping, taking the lull in the fight to get healed and restore their [Ether] in anticipation of the next wave.
Chloe’s [Mass Heal] again proves to be a goddess-send, able to stitch together hundreds of wounds in the span of seconds, all without having to reveal her position behind a large tree.
I can only imagine what sort of mindblowing acts of restoration and rejuvenation she’ll be able to perform at even higher levels.
Healing a city with the sa ease as snapping her fingers?
I’d be surprised if she couldn’t.
We march.
Sixty-three Seraphina bots push outward, launching spheres of crimson fla to clear a path, while I imitate their actions as best I can.
Though, I aim my [Fire Orbs] with a bit more precision, using targeted strikes like so many controlled burns to cancel out the flas before they can devastate the woods and surrounding grasslands as a whole.
My little rebellion goes over well enough to not attract any attention.
Sixty Legion soldiers storm out of the dungeon, and only then does the plan snap into place.
Pursuers chase into the flaming trees, eager to secure so cheap kills from the supposedly wounded and fleeing agents who’d co to storm this base.
The fighting starts the mont the group breaks out of formation.
Our group’s soldiers erge from behind trees, their Etheric presence and brimming vitality shrouded by Clara’s magic.
What promised to be a rout proves to be exactly that, only with the sides inverted.
But this lasts only for a few seconds, before my false duplicates begin channeling their own magic, homing beams of light and crackles of lightning that target my allies with uncanny precision.
“Hold position, Miss Mortensen.
Wait for my signal.”
The [Tactician]’s command feels off, but I don’t push forward.
I just… play along, as I have until now.
I guess in that regard, I’m no different than the other automatons, dancing to the strings of another.
The flow of Ether shifts, gathering over my head in massive quantities.
The sky above
darkens, and the light of the flas around the Seraphina brigade starts to shimr and distort.
Horror sets in as I realize exactly what’s going on; it’s the very sa attack I used myself a few months ago: [Black Hole].
And it seems that these faux-Seraphinas have figured out a way to cast it by combining each of their individual powers, not unlike what Nicholas coordinated just over a week ago.
Stupid, terrible, foolish…
Whoever is controlling these hunks of junk is planning to sacrifice every last one of them.
Too much [Ether], the growing force of [Gravity] in the air above us too strong.
My first thought is to scrap the bots, but if they lose control of the sphere and it collapses…
I don’t want to think about the potential consequences, but I know they won’t be good.
“Any suggestions on how to deal with this, Miss Mortensen?”
“Evacuate the imdiate surroundings.
The dungeon itself generates a distortion in the dinsion which will keep those within safe from the gravitational force.
As far as counterasures, I can partially counter the spell by inverting the glyph combination they are using and annihilating the effect with equal force.”
“Will that work?”
“In theory, and with the few opportunities I’ve had to test it, yes, inverting a glyph serves as the glyph’s counterspell.
You all will be responsible for slowly whittling down the cohort of my fakers.”
I start casting my spell.
The bots don’t seem to notice that I’m partially negating their gathered [Black Hole], slowing the growth of the ebon orb floating about a hundred feet overhead, and whoever is behind this force hasn’t made their move yet either.
“I can buy you so ti.
Maybe five minutes in total.”
“I will take care of that,” Chloe says.
“You all focus on the stragglers and make sure they can’t call in for reinforcents.”
“Are you certain, Miss Jacobs?”
This ti it’s Clara who chis in to the ntal web.
“It will be dangerous.”
“I know.
But I need this for .
To prove to myself that I’m not just so ek little healer girl.
I’m going to show everyone that I’m strong enough to continue to stand by Sera’s side!
Besides, I can fly just as well as she can; that gives
a huge advantage against the majority of you, who all can’t.”
Chloe lets loose a roar as she flies in, low and fast, cupric-colored armor glistening in the twilight as her radiant blades cut through one of the Seraphina bots.
Three more turn toward Chloe and start attacking her with spears tipped by a dense and heavy alloy.
But Chloe is faster still.
The piercing stabs score only the wind and the feathers in her angelic golden wings as she darts in and out of their attack radius.
While the majority of my ntal focus is spent channeling my [Ether] to partially counter the looming spell above, I have enough brainpower left to aid Chloe in her assault.
Nothing too overt, nothing that screams ‘I’m an impostor among these impostors’.
But a subtle [Impulse] here and a barrier there and a misaid [Lightning] glyph that sizzles one of my replicas?
That sort of thing that could be dismissed as a malfunction.
And if one spear rams into the back of another of these detestable androids and takes them both out of the fight?
Well, I’ve never been one to complain about the trash learning to take itself out.
Another android crumples, although it wasn’t Chloe and it wasn’t
who bring it down.
Soone else in the background?
Hopefully one of ours, but if it happens to be a third party working on our side, I won’t complain.
Chloe continues to work with precision.
Two [Mirage Swords] flare forth in front of her, carving a path of destruction.
But sothing seems off.
It’s too easy.
Chloe is strong, absolutely.
And she was fast too.
But the gap in power shouldn’t be this great, not by the standards of what power the Legion dickheads showed before.
By now the mass of fake Seraphinas should be taking Chloe a lot more seriously than they actually are.
Instead, it’s almost like they want to be cut down.
They care more about the spell than they do about the–
“Everyone, get as far away from here, now!
This whole spell is going to blow!”
“Are you sure?” Clara’s voice calls out through the ntal link.
“No, I’m not sure.
But we don’t fucking have any ti to go into depth and see if my instinct is wrong!
Take everyone and get as far away from here as possible, now!”
“Do it,” Clara says authoritatively.
“And you two?”
“It wouldn’t be the first ti we’ve cheated death in this manner.”
“Alright.
I trust you.
In return, you have to promise that you’ll both erge alive.”
“We will.”
Just as the connection goes idle, I notice the issue of why my counterspell is causing a destabilization in the [Black Hole] rapidly breaking down.
And it’s one that fills
with vicarious embarrassnt.
These automatons are using shitty, imprecise glyphs.
It’s so subtle as to go unnoticed, just a small imperfection, the result of literal machine error in the programming of these cheap imitations, unguided by the appropriate Skills to properly [Glyphcast].
But in this particular case, my correct glyphs are not perfectly countering their wrong ones, creating a note of dissonance in what should be perfectly destructive interference.
An error term which is dominating the intended effect as Chloe cuts down these automatons which dare to wear my face.
And a concentrated mass of Ether without direction… explodes.
If I find out that all of this was by design, I might just be impressed.
Right after I wring soone out to dry for ruining my good reputation with these cheap knockoffs!
“Chloe?
Get ready to heal us; we’ve got about three seconds before we need to slip into subspace.”
“On it, Sera!”
Right as the spells fully desync, and in the instant before the explosion’s sonic boom hits us both, Chloe takes my hand and the two of us [Dinsional Slip] our way into subspace.
Again it hurts like hell to stay here as the harshness of the secondary layer of space attempts to tear us apart, but it’s not quite as bad as it was a week ago.
Part of that is our higher stats and greater health, but more than that, it’s as Madison told
in my past life.
We’ve gained a few levels between then and now, and beco more magical in the process.
Our bodies, less organic, less reliant on biology, are less affected by being in this space, and we’re able to hold out for nearly five seconds before I phase us back to the principal layer.
But it seems we’re not alone; the third wave is already encroaching to greet us.
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