Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

The doppelgänger took a step forward, its movements eerily fluid, like something that wasn't quite human. "You shouldn't have come here."

Jude narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The figure tilted its head. "I am you."

Jude's grip tightened on his sword. "You're lying."

The doppelgänger chuckled, the sound low and unnatural. "Am I?"

Then it lunged.

Jude barely had time to raise his sword before the clone was on him, moving with an unnatural speed. Their blades clashed, the impact sending a jolt through his arm. The force of the strike was immense, more than he had expected.

He barely had time to process before another attack came, forcing him back. His reflection was relentless, every strike perfectly mirroring his own movements. It was like fighting his own shadow.

Lyara moved to help, but before she could, another figure stepped from the darkness. A perfect copy of her.

Her double wasted no time, attacking with the same ruthless precision. Steel clashed against steel as Lyara was forced into battle with herself.

Jude gritted his teeth. This wasn't just a fight. This was something else entirely.

The doppelgängers weren't just mimicking them. They were them. Every movement, every instinct, they matched it perfectly.

Jude dodged a strike aimed at his throat, countering with a quick slash. His double evaded effortlessly, as if predicting his move before he made it.

"You can't win," the reflection whispered. "You know that, don't you?"

Jude didn't answer. He focused. He had to find a weakness. There had to be something different about them.

Then he noticed it.

The heartbeat.

The pulse of the anchor.

His reflection's movements were precise, too precise. It was almost mechanical, as if responding to something beyond its own will. And every time the pulse of the anchor surged, there was the briefest hesitation.

It was small. Almost impossible to catch. But it was there.

Jude shifted his stance, watching carefully. He waited, counting the rhythm of the heartbeat.

One… Two… Three…

The pulse surged.

And in that moment, he moved.

He twisted his blade, feinting left before driving forward. His reflection reacted, but too late. His sword cut through, slicing across its chest.

The doppelgänger staggered, eyes wide with shock.

It hadn't expected that.

Jude didn't give it time to recover. He pressed forward, striking in time with the heartbeat. Each attack landed, cutting through the reflection like it was unraveling from within.

And then, with one final blow, it shattered.

The moment it disappeared, a shockwave rippled through the air.

Jude turned just in time to see Lyara strike down her own double, using the same timing.

For a brief moment, silence filled the plateau.

Then the obelisk pulsed violently.

Cracks formed along its surface, light spilling out from within. The ground trembled, the very air shaking with the force of the energy it contained.

Jude barely had time to react before the obelisk exploded.

A burst of power surged outward, knocking him and Lyara back.

For a moment, everything was white, blinding light swallowing the world.

Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Jude gasped for breath, pushing himself up. The obelisk was gone. In its place, a swirling void remained, its edges shimmering like the surface of a lake.

Lyara groaned, rubbing her temple. "What… just happened?"

Jude didn't have an answer.

Then a voice echoed from the void.

"You are not ready."

The air grew heavy.

And then, from the depths of the void, something began to emerge.

Jude braced himself as the air around them twisted. The voice had been deep, resonant, filled with something ancient and knowing. It wasn't just a sound, it was a presence. Something beyond human comprehension. And it was coming closer.

The swirling void where the obelisk once stood pulsed, rippling like the surface of disturbed water. Shadows stretched unnaturally, bending toward the disturbance as if drawn by an unseen force. Then, from within the churning darkness, a figure emerged.

At first, it was formless, shifting like liquid smoke, but then the shape solidified. Tall, imposing, draped in black robes that moved without wind. A mask covered its face, smooth, featureless, save for two hollow eyes that burned with a faint golden glow.

Jude's breath hitched. This presence, it was unlike anything he had ever faced before. It wasn't just power. It was something deeper, something fundamental.

Lyara stiffened beside him, her blade still drawn but her grip tense, uncertain. "Jude…"

"I know."

The figure took a step forward, the very ground seeming to recoil from its presence. Then it spoke again, its voice calm, steady, yet carrying the weight of eternity.

"You have shattered the first anchor. But you remain unworthy."

Jude narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The figure tilted its head, as if considering the question. "I am the Watcher. The Guardian of Balance. The Keeper of the Rift."

"The Rift?" Lyara echoed.

"The space between," the Watcher said. "Where reality fractures. Where what is, and what could be, collide."

Jude felt a chill run down his spine. "And what does that have to do with us?"

"You walk a path you do not understand," the Watcher continued. "You seek to sever the chains, yet you do not comprehend the weight of what you undo."

Jude exchanged a glance with Lyara. He had felt it too. Destroying the obelisk had done something, something irreversible. The world around them no longer felt the same.

"Explain," he demanded.

The Watcher remained silent for a moment, then raised a hand. The void rippled again, and suddenly, images flickered into existence.

A city, vast and shining, floating above an endless abyss. A battlefield, where warriors clashed beneath a sky split in two, one side engulfed in fire, the other in unending darkness. A throne, empty yet waiting, shrouded in shifting mist.

And then, Jude himself. Standing alone, surrounded by countless figures. Some were familiar. Others were not. All staring at him with expressions unreadable.

Then the vision faded.