Emissary Of Darkness

Their swords locked again, the clash resounding like thunder in the empty mirrored chamber. Hope's arms trembled under the pressure, his muscles burning, the echo of fatigue crawling up his spine. The replica leaned in close, their eyes inches apart—identical, but impossibly different.

"You're not me," it whispered. Its voice was low, calm, and slow… like a scalpel cutting into flesh. "You're weaker. So much weaker."

Hope shoved the replica back with a grunt and twisted, sending a wild slash across the air. The doppelgänger ducked under it fluidly, dancing around his attack with that same damn smirk still lingering on its face.

"I've watched you," it continued as it advanced. "Running. Always running. From fights, from people, from your past. From yourself."

"You are the reason they died, walker and kelvin.... Carrier of misfortune "

Hope gritted his teeth and lunged, blade aimed for the replica's gut. It sidestepped, and with a flick of its wrist, the odachi carved a red line across Hope's forearm.

The pain flared instantly. Blood seeped from the wound. Hope staggered, but forced himself to stay upright.

"Not much of a chosen, are you?" the replica said as it stalked him, slow and purposeful. "God of Darkness gave you a taste of power, and what did you do with it? hide the power,. bastard don't even know how to use his gift.... What a shame"

Hope responded with a sudden dash, slicing upward from a low angle. It was meant to be deceptive, aimed to draw the replica into an over-parry.

But it saw through it—his own trick. The blade met nothing.

Then pain.

The odachi came down diagonally, tearing through Hope's shoulder armor. Steel split. Flesh followed.

Hope screamed as he staggered back, clutching his shoulder. His vision blurred for a second.

"You pretend you don't care," the replica hissed. "Pretend you're a lone wolf, some broken survivor… but deep down, you're just scared. Scared of what you might become. Scared that you're nothing without your pain."

Hope growled and swung wide, forcing the doppelgänger into a defensive slide. They danced again, blades flashing, boots skidding on fractured glass. But now Hope's rhythm was off—his wounds slowed him. His left arm was sluggish. His shoulder screamed with every movement.

He tried to feint, but the clone anticipated it again, punishing him with a brutal kick to the ribs. Hope hit the ground hard, rolling to break the fall, coming up on one knee. His breaths were ragged, hoarse. Blood dripped from his side now too, staining his tunic.

"Your whole life's been one long disappointment," the clone spat. "The boy too weak to protect anyone. Too selfish to help. Too cowardly to stand tall. Tell me, Hope—"

It paused, raising its blade slowly.

"—why do you deserve to live?"

Hope didn't answer. His mouth was dry. His body throbbed.

But his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.

The replica's eyes narrowed. "Nothing to say? No final words? No self-righteous monologue about strength or survival? Just silence?"

Hope pushed to his feet, wobbling slightly. His vision doubled. He blinked it away.

"…you talk too much," he finally muttered.

The clone's smile vanished.

They collided again.

This time, Hope didn't go for finesse. He fought like an animal—dirty, desperate. His blade was a blur, wild and angry, as he pushed through the pain. The clone blocked most of it, but not all—Hope managed to scrape the odachi arm, drawing blood. For a second, it flinched.

He threw a fist into the clone's jaw—not a sword strike, just raw instinct—and the impact sent them both crashing apart again.

Hope coughed violently, spitting blood.

The clone staggered, face twisted in fury now. "You think this ends in a draw?" it spat. "Only one of us walks out of here."

Hope raised his blade again. It felt heavier now. Like it was filled with lead. His arms didn't want to move anymore. His breath came in short, painful bursts. His clothes were drenched in sweat and blood. His own blood.

But he stood.

He always stood.

"…You might know my tricks," he said, voice hoarse. "You might know how I think… but there's one thing you don't understand."

He met his own gaze—saw the shadow version falter for just a breath.

"I don't fight to win," Hope said.

"I fight so I don't have to die."

And with that, he surged forward again....