When Guillaume touched the duplicate's forehead, nothing seemed to happen from an outside perspective. For about a split second, at least. As was in line with Guillaume's other displays of Exotic Domain powers, his toolkit came without the usual light show that magic liked to put on.

Behind the scenes, a very different story was unfolding. For the mere moment that the affected copy lived afterwards, it was like every sensation he had ever experienced lit up at the same time. Elation, depression, pain, relief, boredom – the list spiraled on in a never-ending fractal helix. Blending together like a soup, mixing everything he had ever known with everything he hadn't.

It was, altogether, too much for him to be able to process.

Which is why the remaining two copies were caught flat-footed when Henry's head literally exploded right in their faces. In a boiling flash, the skull shattered into finely graded fragments, scattering backwards in a spray of bone shards and blood.

In an instant, without so much as a spark from the reactive shield, he was dead. The force of the blast pushed the corpse backward, causing it to fall unceremoniously to the ground with nothing more than a lower jaw remaining. Teeth and tongue splashed down into the viscera painting the space behind it, the only remaining recognizable pieces of what had once been a head.

The last time Guillaume had left a body like that was before the expedition for the artifact. The result had deeply unsettled him at that time, mainly because the attack somehow managed to bypass his ability to get visions of the last moments of his clones. It still unsettled him now, even after learning how it had happened.

"Enough games," Guillaume growled, slipping seamlessly from the show of force into intimidation tactics. Henry shuddered involuntarily.

"You forget that, despite my inclination to leave my dirty work to my subordinates, I am still capable of a great deal on my own. Now, tell me, how do you expect to win against me when I can kill you with just a touch?"

Layla rose up to one knee, a baleful gaze staring the remaining copies down. Weighing their individual threat levels like a raptor choosing its next prey. Running the calculations that dictated the rules of nature, weighing energy against benefit.

Not that either of them were the type to let something as simple as a mean look make them lose the initiative. A copy materialized behind her to restrain her wrists, while the one on the left moved in to knock her back down onto the ground.

Guillaume moved just as fast, if not faster. Two prods to the head with mist-accelerated reflexes later, and a pair of fresh, headless corpses were sent tumbling back in the direction they came from.

"What did I just finish saying, you wool-headed fool!", she exclaimed. "Are you satisfied with the outcome now? Or do I have to prove it to you a third time!?"

Guillaume's temper was beginning to flare just a shade brighter. Perhaps there was an opportunity here…

"…Hm?" Henry belatedly answered with a dull face. "Sorry, did you say something?"

Guillaume narrowed Layla's eyes. "As if the likes of you deserve-"

Another clone materialized in a stance immediately poised to go for a tackle, leaping forward the instant it solidified and dying just as quick.

"ENOUGH!!" Guillaume roared as loud as he could manage.

"I've made up my mind about you, salaud! I will personally kill you again and again, until you have depleted so much Domain mana that your shriveled-up balls passed down to you by a lineage of cowards contain more in comparison! I don't care if it takes a hundred, a thousand, a MILLION of your lives to get there! THIS ENDS TONIGHT!!"

Both Henrys glanced at each other with expressions of mild concern. It seemed like they might have an angle. And from the looks on each other's faces, they were thinking the same thing.

"You know, props for creativity on that ultimatum…"

"…But he sounds way less intimidating with a girl's voice," the other finished.

The first one nodded. "Eight out of ten, I'd reckon."

"Now, let's not be too hasty here-"

Guillaume screamed in furious anger, jabbing Layla's finger to the side of the offending copy's temple after being allowed to close the distance unimpeded. A burst of red-pink confetti plumed in the air with just a single touch, and the one speaking recoiled violently as the blast eliminated him.

The survivor stepped back, wiping the spatter from his face with a hint of disgust. Unfortunately, he could only get most of it free before he had to react to more pressing issues. And there was definitely still a chunk of something in his hair, now.

Ohhhkay… that got him a bit more riled up than I expected.

The next bout of fighting had begun in earnest.

Henry's fell back on his tried and true opening move. Riding the edge of mortality without backups wasn't really the greatest long-term position in his life, so he needed to get back the numbers he lost, immediately. It was the one trick he really had control over, and by God he was going to squeeze every last drop of usefulness from it if he could help it.

Let's see… feels like I can make two copies- wait, two?! Where's the fourth one off to?!

Backpedaling frantically to buy himself the time needed to summon new clones, he found himself split between confusion on where his missing clone was and being glad that the space around him was perfectly flat ground. Made it easier to maneuver. So long as you knew roughly where all the bodies were, staying upright was practically a cakewalk.

Well… almost. Layla's fingers raked through the air like cat's claws mere centimeters from the tip of his nose, and when he flinched he almost fell head over heels over the headless remains of one of his duplicates.

He chose to ignore that near miss for now. Confidence was the key to accomplishment, he'd been told. So long as he believed he wouldn't fall, then he wouldn't fall, right?

One more clone out on the field. One more to go. His mouth tasted like lactic acid.

Damn…

He'd been hoping he'd have a bit more juice in the tank, but it was clear he was slowly but surely running into the double-edged sword of his own abilities.

Magic items nonwithstanding, his Exotic Domain perfectly replicated his person at any point he could see. If he was feeling pumped, any duplicates he made would be the same. If he was wounded, that same wound would appear on any clones, too.

And if he was getting tired from extended bouts of fighting, unfortunately his copies would feel the consequences of that just as much as he was.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The fresh arrival kicked Layla in the shin on her bad leg, sending her sprawling back to the floor for a few, oh so precious seconds. They both backed off, allowing them to catch their breath momentarily as his crystal strained to bring in the third simulacrum.

That was another problem. Throughput. Henry wasn't sure exactly how much energy his Domain stored – or even how much a single clone cost, for that matter – but so far, he hadn't been able to find a discernible limit to how much mana he could output.

Though, that might just be due to his inability to even track his own expenditure. Most Domain mages before the Witching Hours openly reported that they could sense the amount of magic energy they contained at any given time, like a sixth sense that notified them when they'd started pushing things too far. Either they were all collectively lying about it, or he was the odd man out, because such intuition was still very much outside the reach of his usual instincts. Paranoid as he might be at times, him being the exception that proved the rule seemed like a much more reasonable explanation to him.

Instead, what was often constraining was how frequently he could trigger his power in rapid succession. The more he used it in a short period of time, the harder it got to call upon the next replacement. Like trying to wade through deeper and deeper quicksand. Another step was always possible... just increasingly difficult the deeper he went.

He'd managed in the booby-trapped subway tunnels because they'd taken frequent breaks for him to catch his breath. Here, though? Something told him Guillaume wasn't about to give him that chance.

I need to end this as soon, or I'm done for. What are my options?

Layla grabbed one of the copies by the wrist and pulled him in close. Poke. Splash. Add one to the queue.

Starting with the simplest option? Knock her out. Doesn't fix the freeloader inside, but at least then I might be able to figure something out.

He sidestepped a bull rush from her just in the nick of time. Once she was past, he backed away in the direction she'd come from, extending the distance as much as possible while keeping the sidelines in sight enough to spawn the next duplicate there.

Anything else? Maybe there's a way to force Guillaume out, or… no. Whatever that black crystal did to Guillaume, he's powerful enough that even direct contact with her didn't cause any interference. Best case scenario, I just need to apply more power of my own… but that causes even more issues! How on Earth would I even manage to get multiple crystals to touch her without her poking me to death?!

Layla charged toward the new arrival, causing him to dash away until the three of them formed a loose triangle. He could hear the ragged breaths his copy was gasping for as he sped off, his possessed friend hot on his heels.

No matter what, that old bastard can't make it off this roof. And without bullets, my only options involve me closing the distance and risking it. But even those odds are a long shot. I just don't have any good options-

An abbreviated mental flash interrupted his train of thought. The three copies suddenly felt the notion that they were free-falling a bare meter away from the edge of the fire escape, only to collide abruptly with the pavement below. A collective wince rolled through the crowd as they snapped back to reality.

The fourth clone, plummeting to his death where they hadn't seen him. All three snapped their attention to the fire escape.

What the hell happened there?

Henry soon got his answer.

With a vicious tremor, the roof shook as Sir Henwood vaulted the last flight, propelling himself onto the rooftop from the side of the building. Launching himself in a perfect arc that sailed through the air above their heads, the polished enchanted steel glistened and glowed as the topmost points of the armor came within meters of disturbing the Shroud overhead. Asphalt cracked under the gleaming boots of the iron giant as it touched down, but miraculously held firm as the point of his lance unfurled to face them.

"Henry Thompson," the faceless steel sentinel rumbled ominously. "I should have known you'd get yourself involved in this mess, somehow."

Seeing William's sudden appearance – and the way he addressed Henry, more importantly – had him somewhat apprehensive about their relation. The clone who'd been actively chased in William's direction by Guillaume was less picky.

"Will! It's good to see you, man, but it's not safe here! Layla's been-"

"Don't listen to him!"

Guillaume shouted over him, perfectly mimicking Layla's voice in the process. "He's trying to take me away! He killed a bunch of Knights just to get me, even after Guillaume was dead!"

"What?! She's lying! Guillaume isn't-"

The head of Sir Henwood's squire poked over the shoulder of the giant metal armor, muttering something only the two of them could hear as he desperately attempted to plead his case.

"So, that's Guillaume's body, huh?" William asked rhetorically, gesturing with the tip of his lance-arm towards the old man's corpse. "I don't know what you're playing at this time, Henry, but the last thing I'm inclined to do right now is believe you at face value. Step aside, or I will be forced to intercede with force. And we both know how that ended for you the last time."

"Listen for a moment, Will! Guillaume's turned himself into a bloody brain parasite! He's already got his hooks in her, and if you get too close, you'll be next!"

"A likely story from a man wanted dead or alive by Cavendish himself. Save your words for the trial, I'm giving you five seconds. Five."

"God damn it, Will!"

"Four."

This was bad. If he did nothing, he'd be attacked. If he tried to knock Layla out now, Sir Henwood would disproportionately match his aggression and he'd be attacked again. If he followed along, Layla would get close enough for Guillaume to copy a new instance over, and he would, again, be attacked.

"Three."

Surely, there was something he could do here? After everything he'd gone through to reach this point, surely he wasn't caught in his cruelest Catch-22 to date? He'd been looking forward to winning the day, honestly.

"Two."

Well, if he was going to play by the rules, then he certainly would be completely out of luck. All that really meant in practice, however, was that he needed to not play by the rules, and keep everyone else guessing. Though the how of things was still up in the air…

"One-"

"Alright, you've made your point!" Henry, the one who had been processing the unfolding situation, stepped forward with his arms held out wide in indignation. "You're right! I shouldn't have come here in the first place! Now how about you do us all a favor and shoot me here, then?!"

A long, slow pause rolled along the rooftop. Henry could almost imagine the slow blink Sir Henwood was doing from the command throne within.

"...Sorry, what?"

"Kill me!", Henry reiterated, continuing his advance. "Cavendish wants me dead, doesn't he?! Now's the perfect time to execute some frontier justice and save him the trouble! Come on, I'm giving you a perfect chance here! You know you want to!"

Now William was truly suspicious. The scrawny man clinging to the shoulder of his armor was muttering in his ear again, but whatever hushed conversation they were having, William shook his head to it in a negative response.

"No, squire, something's not right here," he began, ignoring Henry for the time being. "That man… er, men… over there is about as self-interested as they come. Most of those who've become Devils typically are, you'll come to learn given time. But him? Sure, he might sacrifice a pawn or two of his, but to offer up his life permanently… No. He's plotting something."

"Me? Plotting? Noooo. That doesn't sound like me at all! Schemers actually get to die in the end! For example-"

He kicked the still corpse of Guillaume at his feet. "Case in point, right here!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Layla tensed almost imperceptibly. Almost.

Interesting… the reaction made him press in the direction he was working in further.

"I mean, just look at him! Went full-on mafia don in the end, and even that didn't save the prick! Three bullet wounds and one creepy looking stone in the forehead later-"

He rapped the black crystal with the back of his knuckle to emphasize his point. He wasn't really thinking as he did so, he just thought the gesture added to the act he was selling. After all, if nobody really respected the man in life, was doing so in death really going to be a high priority? So, he prodded with the hand that his numerical tattoo resided on, which typically was easily concealable.

It became less so, when the pitch-black stone began to react violently to it.

The results were as unintended as they were immediate. A pulse of neon-black rippled out from the point of impact, radiating outwards like ripples from a boulder crashing into a still pond. The waves of energy washed over him, blinding him temporarily before coalescing to a point centered on Henry's outstretched palm.

His tattoo glowed a pale green-gray for a brief moment as the tiny drop of exotic energy entered his body.

At the same time, Layla fell to her knees with a face contorted in pain. But it was Guillaume's voice that cried out in agony. Not even the weird accent thing that had been going on with her before, just straight-up a man's voice coming out of her vocal cords. Even William took a half-step backward at such a display. Normally when he was this deep into his Knight Commander persona, nothing short of the arrival of Grimfang was able to faze him.

"...Huh," was all Henry could think to say upon seeing the results. "You know, that was all supposed to just be an act to buy me some time to think of a better plan. But now, it looks like I might have accidentally answered my own question."

Guillaume responded by pulping the nearest clone's cerebrum with just a touch. William, seeing the mask slip, snapped back to his senses immediately and adopted a long-range defensive stance.

Time to finish this.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.