Lucian and Blaidd slowly passed through the narrow stone walkway. The cold, pressing walls loomed on both sides, exuding a mysterious and ancient air.
As they advanced further, faint glimmers began to appear at the end of the path—starlight, bright and pure.
When they finally emerged from the cramped passage, the sight that unfolded before them was so beautiful that it stole their breath away.
What had moments ago been suffocating and confined now opened into vastness. The heavens above shimmered with countless radiant stars, scattered like diamonds across the black velvet of the sky.
The towering cliffs stood solemn and majestic beneath the light, their outlines sharply defined, forming the very boundaries of this subterranean world.
The stars hung before them—so close they almost seemed within reach. But when they moved, the constellations shifted and vanished, like illusions dissolving into the dark.
Lucian's gaze roamed across the expanse. In the distance stood the remnants of the ancient realm of Nokron, the Eternal City beneath the night.
Those magnificent structures, once the pinnacle of human ingenuity, now stood as gravestones of a bygone civilization, whispering of lost ages and untold stories.
The entire scene, bathed in the eternal starlight, exuded a breathtaking stillness—so serene that time itself seemed to have halted.
The fleeting brilliance of mankind and the eternal endurance of stone intertwined here, creating a beauty beyond words.
At that moment, Lucian finally understood what "The Eternal City" truly meant.
Even if a thousand years passed, or ten thousand—the night sky here would never change.
Even a false sky, he thought, possessed its own kind of beauty.
Though Blaidd had been to the underground realms before, even he found himself awestruck once more by this sight.
Melina stood beside Lucian, her gaze lifted toward the glittering firmament, lost in quiet reverie.
Lucian drew himself from his momentary daze, his eyes settling on the distant domain of night—a faint unease stirring in his chest.
In the game, reaching the Night's Sacred Domain required jumping across the chasm.
He wasn't sure how the Nox people used to cross, but surely it wasn't by leaping like that.
Now, however, the domain stood completely isolated—an independent structure floating apart from the surrounding cliffs.
He quickly gauged the distance between the cliffs and the city, it was far too great to cross by jumping alone.
With the power of the storm, he could glide short distances, even briefly take to the air. But sustained flight… that was still beyond him.
He silently memorized the terrain of the Night's Domain. He would observe more closely once they reached it.
If it truly couldn't be crossed, he could always rely on Wind Spirit Moon Shadow's Zero Equipment Weight state and use the storm to carry himself across.
His recent battles against gravity-based foes had inspired a realization—perhaps Moon Shadow's weight-nullification was akin to their total loss of gravity.
—
The two defeated the silver tears and the maddened Nox swordsmen that barred their way.
Later, in another ruined pavilion, Lucian discovered a Larval Tear—now he had two in hand.
They eventually arrived before the place where the Mimic Tear awaited.
It was an open temple-like structure, blocking the path deeper in.
From the entrance, they could already see two shimmering puddles of silver liquid lying motionless on the ground.
Lucian began checking his gear, preparing himself for what would be an intense battle—he wanted to experience firsthand what it felt like to fight against himself.
After a moment's thought, he drew the Sword of Night and Flame.
This weapon served both as a melee blade and a conduit for sorcery, while the Dragon Communion Seal was always within his grasp.
This meant the Tear would be able to use all of his spellcasting abilities.
Lucian and Blaidd slowly approached the two silver puddles.
As soon as they crossed a certain threshold, the silver masses began to quiver and shift, reforming themselves into shape.
One began mimicking Blaidd, while the other struggled to take Lucian's form.
In moments, a perfect duplicate of Blaidd stood before them.
Blaidd stared at his mirror image, disbelief in his eyes. "What… is this? It can imitate our forms?"
"And even… our weapons and armor?"
However, the imitation of Lucian was not proceeding smoothly. The silver mass trembled for a long time, unable to hold its shape.
Seeing this, the "Blaidd" imitation walked over and merged into the unstable mass.
Only then did the copy of Lucian finally complete its transformation.
So it seems… when the target's attributes are too high, it requires more than one Tear to replicate it.
Before them now stood a figure identical to Lucian in every possible detail—appearance, expression, even the faint ember marks on his skin.
Melina looked between the real Lucian and the duplicate.
"It's… truly indistinguishable…"
Seeing that two had merged into one, Lucian motioned for Blaidd to step back.
"Blaidd, stay out of this. Let me test its strength."
Blaidd nodded, retreating to a safe distance.
The imitation barely finished forming before it lunged forward, a storm swirling around its frame.
It crossed the distance in an instant, swinging its Sword of Night and Flame, sending blazing fire surging toward Lucian, carried by roaring winds.
Lucian didn't flinch. His own blade flared with flame and storm, meeting the attack head-on.
The moment their powers clashed, Lucian noticed something off—the opponent's fire lacked his strength.
Though the imitation bore the same burning ember scars as him, it seemed to have mimicked only the outward appearance, not the outer god's blessing behind it.
However, the stat bonuses from his Great Rune appeared to have been copied perfectly.
Perhaps it replicated not the source of strength, but only the final numerical output.
"Fine by me," Lucian muttered.
Knowing the imitation couldn't use the power of the Sun, he decided to fight without it as well—no sunlight, no solar flame, no blood-burning.
The passive effects, however, he couldn't suppress.
Their twin blades clashed and parted, then immediately struck again.
The imitation raised its sword high, slamming it into the ground. The storm enveloped its form, spinning it rapidly as the fiery blade descended from above—a Lion's Claw strike.
Lucian crouched low, stepping forward and swinging upward. Fire traced a grand arc through the air.
A leaping strike—upward slash!
Storm surged along his blade as he released his own flame.
Though the imitation's Lion's Claw fell with immense force, it couldn't match Lucian's precision and control.
In a burst of energy, the imitation was flung backward.
Same attributes, same numbers—but the difference lay in mastery. Lucian's flames, empowered by the embers, burned hotter; his command of the storm was sharper.
The imitation steadied itself midair, using wind to correct its posture. Lucian seized the moment, sending a blade of compressed wind that hurled it further back.
Still, the damage was minor—it had copied his endurance as well.
Recovering swiftly, it retaliated with a barrage of Swift Glintstone Shards, while dodging his Comet Azur.
The shards shattered against Lucian's wind barrier. His own sword pulsed with magic, releasing the torrent of the comet spell.
Seeing the danger, the imitation fired Ambush Shard, trying to interrupt him.
But Lucian too had mastered that technique—he swept the winds aside and fired the comet full-force.
The imitation, unable to retaliate in time, flung itself flat to the ground, barely dodging as the blue beam ripped past, blasting a corner off the temple wall.
Dust and stone fell around them as Lucian ceased casting, conserving his mana.
Wiping blood from his lip, he raised his sword again and unleashed Carian Phalanx.
The imitation mirrored him—two halos of floating swords shimmered above them, colliding midair in a rain of shattered light.
The two clashed once more, their blades wreathed in storm, shockwaves rippling through the temple.
Lucian could feel it—the mimic's control over the storm was improving.
But not enough.
He began to overwhelm it, forcing it back step by step.
It kicked forward—but Lucian met it heel to heel.
"Heh. That move's mine."
A burst of wind blasted the mimic away. Lucian raised his sword high, bringing it down in a devastating arc.
A sweeping air blade tore through the temple, leaving a brief vacuum in its wake.
The imitation couldn't evade in time; the edge clipped it, sucking it into the vacuum.
It barely had time to react before a colossal dragon's claw descended, slamming it to the ground.
A massive dragon's head materialized above, mouth aglow with searing flame—Agheel's Flame Breath.
Inferno roared forth, engulfing the mimic in devastating heat.
Pinned beneath the claw, it retaliated with Zamor Ice Storm, freezing air clashing against dragonfire. It then swung its sword upward, breaking free and leaping back.
A golden radiance bloomed from its hand—the Blessing of the Erdtree.
Wounds across its body began to knit.
Curiously, it hadn't used the simpler crimson or cerulean tears to heal—perhaps those couldn't be copied.
Makes sense. Physical items like that needed to be consumed to work. The mimic could copy bodies, not bottles.
Otherwise, it'd have to eat itself to use them.
Lucian smirked. Once I get the big one later, I'll have to prepare a full kit of supplies for it—even spare flasks.
While the mimic was still channeling the blessing, Lucian lunged—storm energy bursting from his blade, stabbing straight through.
He'd always hated when enemies healed mid-fight. Now it was his turn to teach that lesson.
"No drinks during class!"
The blast struck home, sending the imitation crashing into the wall, armor cracking.
Lucian didn't let up. He thrust again and again, releasing rapid storm lances, forcing it into frantic evasions.
Seeing a version of himself scrambling for cover felt strange, but—admittedly—satisfying.
Yet the mimic adapted quickly, its technique sharp.
With a sweeping arc of its sword, flames erupted, swirling under wind pressure and blinding the field.
When Lucian dispersed the firestorm with his own winds, the mimic was gone.
He immediately realized—it had used the brief cover to cast Unseen Form.
He extended his wind sense outward, searching, but the imitation stirred countercurrents everywhere, masking its presence.
It had his attributes and finesse, it could move in total silence, rendering sound useless.
Lucian could also turn invisible himself, but that would only prolong a meaningless stalemate.
He didn't need to hide—he'd win head-on.
Suddenly, a silver mist spread around him—the Night Maiden's Mist.
Lucian instantly held his breath, though the corrosive vapors already burned at his skin.
He summoned a powerful gust, scattering the toxic fog—just as a beam of Comet Azur shot toward him.
He dodged and retaliated with his own comet spell—their beams collided midair, bathing the entire temple in blue light.
For a while, neither side yielded—each sustaining the spell, magic surging violently.
But the imitation had been preparing something.
Five spectral blades of Carian Phalanx flared around it, releasing all at once toward Lucian.
During the mist and invisibility, it had pre-cast them, waiting for this moment.
Lucian tried to divert them with wind, but the imitation countered with its own gusts—neutralizing his control.
The blades struck him head-on.
Normally, the wounds would have been nothing. But locked in a beam struggle, the disruption broke the balance.
Lucian's comet vanished—while the mimic's surged forward, threatening to swallow him whole.
Blaidd tensed. Melina's eyes widened in fear.
But then, something unexpected happened.
The torrent split apart midair, flowing harmlessly past Lucian on both sides.
When the light faded, Lucian stood there, his armor aglow with blue radiance—encased in a shimmering Scholar's Shield.
He lowered his sword, flexing his wrist.
The moment his beam collapsed, he'd canceled the spell and redirected his mana into full-body defense.
Scholar's Shield—normally conjured on a shield, could be layered over armor as well.
By leveraging magic's mutual cancellation, it could reduce magical damage by nearly seventy percent.
With the Sword of Night and Flame braced before him, he'd even managed to split the beam itself, emerging nearly unscathed.
Facing the now-exhausted imitation, Lucian smiled faintly. "Heh. My turn."
Flame and storm roared anew from his blade.
With its mana drained, the imitation could no longer defend. The twin powers engulfed it, driving it back until Lucian's sword pierced straight through its chest.
Staring at the mirror image impaled on his blade felt unsettling—but he drew it across, tearing through the chest.
Two glowing cores rolled out from the silver body—the remnants of the fused Tears.
Lucian retrieved them and stored them in his spatial disk.
As their cores were removed, the mimic's body lost cohesion, collapsing into a puddle of molten silver.
Curiously, it had favored night sorceries in battle—perhaps some instinctive echo of its origin.
Lucian sheathed his sword, drank from both Crimson and Cerulean Flasks, and exhaled slowly.
The Mimic Tear had indeed copied his physique and skill, but not perfectly.
The outer god's power, his refined control—those remained uniquely his.
It had learned, improved, and adapted… but it never reached perfection.
And that slight difference in mastery was all it took for Lucian to win with some ease.