Meanwhile, in the untouched depths of the cave, where blood hadn't stained the rocks and swords had not yet carved air into silence, Elius walked alone.
The clone had done its job—cleared goblins methodically, only killing when absolutely necessary.
The clone left trails of corpses but none of the chaos, none of the spiraling carnage that Elius's real hands always seemed to leave behind.
This place was quiet, untouched in spirit but littered with the faint echoes of death.
Elius's footsteps echoed softly, barely audible over the hum of spiritual energy weaving through the cave walls.
He moved without haste, but his eyes were sharp.
Focused. Scanning.
Dead goblins.
He stepped past a mound of them.
Their bodies twisted unnaturally.
Their green flesh had long cooled.
Elius crouched next to a corpse and extended a hand.
No light.
No ripple.
No flicker.
"…Nothing," he murmured, barely above a breath.
He moved to another corpse.
Still nothing.
His brows furrowed.
He shifted to a third.
Then a fourth.
Still no fragment.
His heart began to throb—not from exhaustion or fear, but from a creeping anxiety that threatened to coil around his chest like a serpent. Had he—had his cultivation—destroyed the dungeon's natural cycle?
He remembered what the system had told him back when they first entered this dungeon:
"Absorbing the ambient spiritual force will halt the dungeon's revival mechanism."
At the time, it sounded like a useful tool—a safety precaution . But now?
Now that he needed more goblins to kill for fragments… he couldn't help but dread the idea that he might have consumed too much.
That he had drained this environment dry and severed its regenerative rhythm.
That the very monsters he needed could no longer respawn.
He clenched his jaw.
No. He couldn't afford to spiral into fear. He needed to keep moving.
And so he did.
Elius stepped over more bodies—his long coat dragging lightly over stone. His masked gaze swept over each one like a judge passing sentence.
He scanned for even the faintest ripple of spiritual residue—some hint that a fragment might still be nearby.
Nothing.
He pressed on, deeper.
Into the darkest stretches of the cave.
And deeper still.
Past stalactite mazes, over bone-littered steps. Down into crevices that seemed untouched by light.
But finally—
Finally.
Something glimmered.
A whisper.
A glow—faint as the breath of a candle on a dying wick.
[Fragment of Martial Skill Found!]
Martial Skill: Healing Sword Technique.
Type: Support Type.
Owned: 5/5
Effect: Converts internal energy into a restorative sword slash. Recovers wounds along the blade's arc.
Elius stared at the screen.
A healing sword technique.
He turned his head slightly. "Healing?" he whispered, not to anyone but himself.
Then the thought came.
The first Martial Skill he found had been a clone technique—mimicking Shiro's essence.
The second? Dragon Skin. .
Ron's style probably since he's a dinosaur. Defensive, brutal, resilient.
Now… a healing sword style.
Klee.
Could it be…
Were the Martial Skills dropping not for him—but reflecting his team?
He straightened, eyes narrowing beneath the mask.
Was the dungeon watching them? Cataloging his allies' traits? Mirroring their roles into Martial Skills? Or perhaps… these techniques were fragments of the souls of the goblins they killed—refined and twisted by the system to reflect those who faced them?
Elius shook his head.
It was all speculation.
But he couldn't deny the pattern.
And it bothered him.
Because it meant—perhaps—the system wanted to turn him into them. Into pieces of the people around him.
Was it trying to complete him?
Was it implying he was incomplete?
He exhaled sharply.
"If these powers are meant for them," he said coldly, then paused.
"…I'll take it anyway. They'll be my martial skill! The stronger I am, the less I would be bothered by my father's attention…"
He turned again, eyes sharpening as he felt the faintest prickle of energy nearby. He followed it—footsteps soundless, his coat whispering behind him like shadow on stone.
There.
Another glow.
[Fragment of Martial Skill Found!]
Martial Skill: Unknown.
Type: Normal Type.
Owned: 1/5
Effect: Fragment only. Collect remaining pieces to unlock full skill.
He knelt next to the goblin's corpse.
This one had clearly been killed by his clone. The wound was straight, no flair. A simple pierce to the heart.
Still, the fragment was here.
So his theory… was wrong.
His clone could drop fragments—it just didn't register the kill on Elius's system log.
Which meant he'd probably missed dozens more.
He stood slowly, expression unreadable.
"…I see."
He now had to backtrack. All those places the clone had traveled—he had to check each of them. Every bloodless corridor. Every corner where the bodies hadn't yet vanished. If the clone was efficient, there would be many.
He touched his wrist and opened a system map, tracking the faint movement paths of his clone's past journeys. There were many.
And time was short.
But he could feel it—something had shifted.
A tightness in the air.
A disturbance.
He didn't know what.
But something in his gut twisted.
"…Did something happen to my clone?" he murmured, stopping mid-step.
A jolt passed through his core.
A subtle shift in energy—a missing resonance, as if something in his spiritual network had gone silent for half a second.
Then it returned.
Steady.
His heart calmed.
If something had happened, his clone would've activated the retreat protocol. It would have flown Ron, Shiro, Lina, and Klee away at full speed. That was the instruction. That was the command. It was absolute.
Elius clenched his fist.
No use panicking. Not yet.
Instead, he kept walking—faster now.
He descended deeper into the silent maze. The glow of faint fragments still clinging to long-dead goblins like mist on forgotten bones.
One step at a time, he collected more.
2/5.
3/5.
4/5.
Each fragment shimmered with strange intent. But none gave him clarity on what the technique would become.
Until the last.
[Fragment of Martial Skill Found!]
Martial Skill: Unknown.
Type: Normal Type.
Owned: 5/5
Effect: Unlocking… Please wait.
He held his breath… And he waited.
Because if this is what he thinks it was, then he would be at ease.
…
Back where the massive goblin was.
The overwhelming silence following the massive goblin's roar was broken only by the faint hum of spiritual pressure exuding from Elius's clone.
The figure, shrouded in cloth like a faceless ghost, stood motionless.
His five swords—previously embedded in the thick green flesh of the towering goblin—vibrated in place for a breathless moment.
Then—SHING!
With a wave of his pale hand, the five swords ripped free of the monster's flesh in perfect unison, with threads of steaming blood trailing behind them.
The massive goblin didn't scream.
It didn't even flinch.
It just stood there, looming, its grotesque muscles twitching like they were laughing at the pain.
The five swords floated back to Elius's side, silently orbiting him.
Ron clenched his fists, talons curling. "Let me help!" he shouted.
"Me too!" Lina echoed, her voice almost transparent, ghost-like.
Shiro's eyes narrowed behind his headband. "He can't fight that thing alone."
Even Klee, her hands already glowing with green healing light, looked ready. "We're a team, aren't we?"
But Elius raised one hand—slowly, deliberately.
A simple gesture.
Palm forward.
Stop.
The four froze, startled by the sudden command.
They exchanged glances.
Confusion writhed in their eyes.
"Why's he stopping us?" Ron muttered.
Shiro stared at the masked figure. "It's like... he doesn't think we're strong enough."
"He doesn't think we're strong enough," Lina said with quiet hurt. "He hasn't said a word since the fight began. Like… like he's not really him."
Klee bit her lip. "Is it really Elius...?"
Of course, it wasn't. Not the real one.
It was his clone.
Just a shell. A tool.
A puppet carved from will and command, mimicking his power without emotion. It moved with purpose, but no soul. It obeyed its programming.
The massive goblin groaned, its wounds closing slowly with a faint green glow.
Behind it—a new figure emerged.
A smaller goblin, cloaked in tattered robes, holding a gnarled wooden staff.
Green light pulsed from its tip as the healing magic flowed into the monster.
"A healer!?" Lina gasped.
"No way," Shiro growled. "They're coordinating."
The four could only watch as Elius's clone raised his hand once more.
The five swords darted forward, slicing through the air with impossible speed—SWOOSH!
Their destination: the goblins beneath the towering beast.
CRUNCH!
SCHLUKK!
SPLAT!
Three goblins were split open before they could even scream.
Blood sprayed across the stone ground in artistic arcs. But two of the swords never made it to their targets.
The massive goblin moved.
BOOM!
With a stomp that cracked the ground beneath it, it swung its massive forearm—and BANG!—clashed against the swords in midair, sending them spiraling backward with a flash of sparks and grinding steel.
It had blocked them.
The clone's head tilted, as if analyzing the creature's response.
The massive goblin's chest heaved.
Its nostrils flared.
Then—it charged.