I Can Create Clones

A hush fell over the great hall as bronze-gilded doors at the far end groaned open, spilling a shaft of golden light across the mosaic floor. The conversation and laughter of a hundred noble children faded, replaced by a tide of expectation. Servants in crisp uniforms strode in with measured precision, bearing between them an ornate crystal pedestal—atop which rested a sphere pulsing with a faint, ethereal glow: the Spirit Core Examination Orb.

Ethan rose from his corner as his name—and all the others—were called. The young scions of branch and main families alike drifted to the testing dais, grouping by age, anxious faces tight with hope or bravado. He found himself shoulder to shoulder with Kael and Darius; their prior confrontation left a subtle tension, but today, the true audience was the array of elders watching from above in the balcony shadows.

A wizened examiner, draped in dark blue robes, greeted the assembled children with a slow nod. His eyes flicked over each face, pausing on Ethan with a hint of curiosity—perhaps sympathy, or maybe calculation.

"Drake family blood stands before old tradition," the examiner's voice rang out, echoing. "Today, your fate aligns with legacy. Place your hand upon the sphere, and let the spirits judge your path."

One by one the children stepped forward. Some, upon contact, saw the orb blaze with color—scarlet for fire, emerald for wind, azure for water; exclamations met each result. Kael approached, eyes hard, jaw set. The instant his palm met the crystal, a proud gold flared: "Mid-intermediate-tier spirit talent," the examiner announced. Applause followed. Darius performed next, receiving a bright silver—"Low-intermediate-tier talent"—earning him no small praise from the watching nobles.

Ethan's turn came. The hall seemed to close in around him; he felt the familiar pressure he'd carried all these years, heavier than ever with the eyes of the main family fixed upon him. Still, his expression remained composed as he rested his hand atop the orb.

For a long moment, nothing happened. A few quiet snickers rose from the crowd. An elder's voice murmured: "As expected…"

But Ethan sensed the hidden surge: his body's true power coiled deep, the system's gifts woven perfectly behind an unbreachable veil. He willed himself utterly still, refusing to let a single ripple reveal the ocean beneath.

The sphere flickered faintly—just for an instant, barely perceptible, almost as if reality itself had hesitated. And then… nothing. The orb dimmed. Silence rippled across the room.

The examiner shook his head. "No innate spirit talent. No spirit core detected," he intoned, voice soft but final.

Disappointment, both feigned and genuine, spilled from every direction. Kael's lips curled in a small, victorious smirk; Darius looked away, uncomfortable. Ethan's parents, seated at the edge of the gathering, held each other's hands tightly, anguish flickering in their eyes.

Ethan bowed his head—outwardly resigned, a dutiful son accepting fate. Yet inside, though he felt the sting, a strange steadiness took root. It was as if the humiliation—a script played out countless times—had finally begun to lose its meaning.

From the gallery, the grand patriarch's deep voice rose: "Aurora, Anthony. You may take your son."

Anthony started, anguish creasing his brow. Aurora rose immediately, pale but composed, her gaze never leaving Ethan. Together, they moved to his side. Ethan could sense the storm of emotion each held at bay.

As they left the dais, heads turned and whispers fanned out behind them—"waste," "unfortunate," "such a pity"—echoing down the marbled corridor as Ethan walked on, his face unreadable.

Yet beneath the mask, something cold—and quietly fierce—began to crystallize. He had lived in their expectations, their disappointment, far too long. Today was simply another mask, another page—one he would soon rewrite, on terms of his own.

As the doors closed and the hall's noise faded behind the trio, Ethan's mind settled. Plans—the real plans, dangerous and dazzling—awaited outside the old walls.

He smiled, so faintly no one noticed.

The gathering storm, he knew, would soon break. And this time, he would not stand in its shadow.

...

After they left the estate of the main lineage of the Drake family, there was a different kind of feeling in the car where Ethan sat with his family—his mother and father. It could be sadness, pity, love, or something else entirely, but it hung heavy in the air like incense after a funeral.

The car wheels rolled steadily over cobblestones, each click marking the distance between them and the grand estate that had just cast its final judgment. Ethan stared out the window at the passing cityscape, his reflection ghostlike in the glass, but his mind was elsewhere—cataloguing every whisper, every sneer, every pitying glance that had followed them from the hall.

Sensing Ethan's gaze upon them, both Anthony and Aurora flinched slightly, as if caught in some private moment of grief. Then, as if summoned by parental instinct, sudden smiles bloomed on both their faces—forced, but fierce with protective love.

Aurora's voice broke the silence first, warm despite the tremor beneath. "It's nothing, dear. Even if you don't have a spirit core or any spirit talent, mom and dad will find you something which will make you stronger than everyone else—a being worthy of respect, someone who can crush everyone who spoke behind your back just now, or years ago."

There was parental love in both Anthony and Aurora's gazes, pure and unwavering, fixated on Ethan as if he were their entire world. Their eyes held promises written in steel—that no matter what the orb had revealed or failed to reveal, their son would not walk this path alone.

Anthony nodded, his jaw set with determination. "The Drake blood runs in your veins, Ethan. Spirit core or not, you are our son. And we will move heaven and earth to ensure you have the strength to stand above those who would look down on you."

Ethan felt something warm unfurl in his chest—not the system's power, not the clone's strength, but something simpler and more profound. He agreed silently that this was indeed what he was going to do. The rivals, the enemies who would strike his family at this vulnerable stage—they would all die. He would make absolutely sure of it.

"I know you will," Ethan said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made both parents pause. "And I promise you—everyone who thinks today's result means anything will learn otherwise. Soon."

Aurora's eyes glistened, and she reached over to squeeze his hand. "My brave boy. You've always been stronger than they know."

Anthony's expression shifted, pride mixing with something harder, more calculating. "We'll need to be careful in the coming months. Today's result will... complicate things. But we've weathered storms before."

As the car rolled on through Skyvault City's winding streets, another thought crept into Ethan's mind, unbidden and curious. His brow furrowed slightly as he realized something that had been nagging at him throughout the ceremony.

I didn't find that girl.

The thought struck him oddly. Throughout all the testing, all the children he'd observed, he hadn't seen her—the one he'd heard whispers about, the girl with the peak advanced tier spirit talent whose birth had shaken the very foundations of the family hierarchy. His supposed fiancée, though that engagement felt more like smoke than substance now.

Where had she been? Why wasn't she among the children being tested? The absence felt deliberate, significant in a way that made his tactical mind spin with possibilities.

Ethan filed the thought away as the city began to thin around them, giving way to the quieter roads that led home. Whatever game was being played, whatever pieces were moving in shadows he couldn't yet see, one thing remained constant: his family's love, and his own growing resolve to protect what mattered most.

The real test, he knew, was just beginning.