Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

The shift was immediate.

One moment, he was in the hall. The next, he was somewhere else entirely.

The air was thick with mist, curling around his feet like a living thing. The ground beneath him was smooth, solid, yet it felt like he was standing on something ancient. There was no sky above him, only an endless expanse of swirling gray.

Jude turned, but the doorway was gone.

He was alone.

A sound echoed through the mist, faint at first, then growing louder. Footsteps.

Jude tensed, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Then, out of the mist, a figure emerged.

Jude's breath caught.

It was himself.

Not a reflection. Not a shadow. But a perfect copy, standing a few feet away, watching him with the same steady gaze.

Jude took a step back. The other him took a step forward.

The air around them crackled with something unseen.

Jude swallowed. "What is this?"

The other him tilted its head. "The fourth step."

Jude exhaled. "And what am I supposed to do?"

The other him smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was knowing. Amused. Almost cruel.

"You fight," it said.

And then, it moved.

Jude barely had time to react. The copy lunged, striking fast. Jude dodged, twisting to the side, but the movement was mirrored perfectly. Before he could regain his stance, a fist slammed into his ribs.

Pain exploded through him.

Jude staggered back, gasping. The copy didn't hesitate. It pressed forward, relentless, precise. Every move Jude made, it countered. Every strike he threw, it anticipated.

It was him. It knew his every thought, every instinct.

Jude gritted his teeth.

If he kept fighting like this, he would lose.

The copy struck again. This time, Jude didn't dodge. He moved forward, catching the arm mid-swing, using the momentum to throw the copy off balance.

The copy twisted, landing smoothly, but Jude didn't stop. He pressed forward, breaking his own patterns, moving in ways he wouldn't expect.

For the first time, the copy faltered.

Jude saw the opening and took it.

He struck hard, aiming for the center. The impact sent the copy stumbling back. The mist around them shifted violently.

Jude didn't stop. He lunged, forcing the copy onto the defensive. For the first time, it didn't mirror him perfectly. It was reacting, not anticipating.

Jude pressed forward, his strikes landing, his movements sharp and precise.

Then, the copy's form began to flicker.

Jude froze.

The copy straightened, its expression unreadable. Then, it smiled again, but this time, it was different.

"You understand now," it said.

Jude exhaled, his chest heaving. "What was this?"

The copy tilted its head. "A lesson."

The mist around them shifted again, the space trembling. The copy stepped back, its form flickering once more.

"Remember," it said.

And then, it was gone.

The mist began to clear.

Jude blinked, and suddenly, he was back in the hall.

Lyara was there. The masked figure was waiting.

Jude let out a slow breath. His body still ached from the fight, but he felt steady.

The figure nodded. "The fourth step is complete."

Jude met their gaze. "What now?"

The figure gestured. Another doorway appeared.

"The final step."

Jude inhaled deeply.

Then, he stepped forward.

Jude felt the shift the moment he stepped through the doorway. It wasn't as disorienting as before, but it was still jarring, like stepping from one world into another with no time to adjust. He landed on solid ground, though it took a second for his mind to catch up to the sudden change in scenery.

The sky overhead was a deep, endless blue, streaked with bands of golden light that seemed to pulse and flicker. The ground beneath him was smooth, a polished stone surface that stretched out in every direction. In the distance, towering structures loomed, their shapes indistinct but massive, their forms shifting ever so slightly as if they weren't entirely solid.

Jude exhaled slowly, scanning his surroundings.

He wasn't alone.

A figure stood a few meters away, their back to him. They were tall, clad in dark robes that billowed slightly even though there was no wind. Their presence was unsettling, not in a way that spoke of immediate danger, but in a way that made the air feel heavier.

Jude took a cautious step forward.

The figure turned.

Jude stopped breathing.

It was him. Again.

Not the same as before, not the mirror-image copy that had fought him in the mist. This one was different. Older. Worn. There was something in his eyes, something that made Jude's stomach twist.

This version of him looked like someone who had seen too much.

Jude swallowed. "Who are you?"

The other him smiled faintly. "You know who I am."

Jude's fingers twitched at his sides. "If this is another test, "

"It is," the older Jude interrupted, stepping forward. "But not the kind you're expecting."

Jude braced himself. "Then what is it?"

The older him tilted his head. "A conversation."

Jude frowned. He had expected another fight, another trial, something physical that would push him to his limits. Not this.

Still, he stayed alert.

The older him studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "Do you know why you're here?"

Jude hesitated. "Because I chose to be."

The older him nodded. "Yes. But do you know why that choice matters?"

Jude didn't answer immediately.

The older him sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You're still at the beginning, after all."

Jude narrowed his eyes. "Then why don't you enlighten me?"

The older him smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Because this is something you have to figure out yourself."

Jude clenched his jaw. "Then what's the point of this?"

"The point," the older him said, "is to make sure you're ready."

Jude exhaled sharply. "Ready for what?"

The older him didn't answer. Instead, he raised a hand.

The world around them shifted.

The smooth stone ground cracked, giving way to rough, uneven terrain. The towering structures in the distance faded, replaced by the crumbling ruins of what had once been a city. The sky darkened, the golden streaks swallowed by heavy, rolling clouds. The air smelled of smoke and something acrid, something wrong.