The silence after the Nullicite Tear was deafening.
Like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see which Kaelen would bleed first.
Then.
They moved.
A blur of motion—Kaelen launched forward, shoulder dipping low, feet sliding across the slick marble like a fighter born in the blood-soaked pits of the underworld.
The clone mirrored him perfectly.
Their fists collided midair, bone to bone, shockwaves cracking across the glassy surface of the platform.
Kaelen twisted, spun into a heel kick, aiming for the clone's temple. But the doppelganger ducked, stepped in, and slammed an elbow into Kaelen's ribs. Kaelen grunted, pain flaring, but he caught the next strike mid-swing and headbutted the clone in the nose.
CRACK!
Blood painted the air in a crimson mist, thin and fleeting.
The clone staggered back, lips peeling into a savage grin, teeth slick with red. "Is that all you got?" His voice was a taunt, a challenge, laced with the metallic tang of his own blood.
