The Clone Spell was said to be one of the most ancient incantations, among the very first ever conceived—at least, that was what the tome Edric had been reading claimed.

There existed countless variations of the spell, each categorized by rank, with the most formidable reaching the fabled Absolute Rank. A Clone Spell of Absolute Rank, in theory, could create duplicates wielding the same Absolute rank overwhelming power. In contrast, a Silver Rank variant could only produce clones of Silver Rank.

Of course, Absolute Rank was far beyond reach—merely the stuff of legends. Edric could only speculate; for all he knew, a Clone Spell of such caliber might operate on an entirely different principle, far more intricate and unfathomable than he could even begin to imagine.

Edric flipped open the book, his fingers swiftly finding the page. His eyes scanned the spell formation once more.

"Oh my... it's so much simpler!" he gasped, astonished. The same spell that had once seemed impossibly complex now appeared almost effortless to grasp.

"Rank… Rank is everything! As long as my rank is high enough, even if my talent is mediocre, I can still cast spells with ease!" He realized, his thoughts racing.

With his average talent, Edric would struggle for years to master a single Golden Rank spell, but learning Silver Rank spells was no longer difficult.

Higher ranks crush lower ranks. The gap between them was immeasurable, and that disparity became painfully obvious—even in something as fundamental as spellcasting.

For most people, this difference was meaningless. After all, barely anyone could hope to reach Silver Rank, let alone Golden, without extraordinary talent. But Edric… Edric was different. Because of the system, he was outside the rules. He could ignore talent restrictions.

"Let's see!" His eyes gleamed with determination as he carefully studied the spell, memorizing every intricate detail. For half an hour, he focused intently. Then, at last, he began casting.

Golden mana surged through his body, flowing into the spell formation. As the spell began taking shape, cracks appeared across its structure.

Even at Golden Rank, Edric's spell formation was far from flawless. His average talent prevented him from forming a perfect Silver Rank spell formation.

But then—his golden mana intervened.

Like molten gold filling the fractures of a shattered blade, his powerful mana mended many of the spell's imperfections, preventing it from collapsing.

This was the advantage of wielding higher-rank mana. Even if his spell formations were flawed, even if cracks formed within them—his Golden Rank mana would forcefully hold them together!

The spell formation filled up rapidly—less than five seconds.

Before this, it would have taken Edric over three minutes to carefully channel his mana, ensuring the delicate structure didn’t collapse. But Golden Rank mana was different. Far more potent, far more stable. In mere moments, the formation was complete, ready to activate.

With a simple thought, Edric willed the spell forward—and the formation vanished.

A presence materialized beside him.

His clone.

It had red hair, green eyes, and a strikingly handsome face—a perfect replica of himself.

"Success!"

Edric’s eyes gleamed with excitement. He had cast Clone Spells before, but those attempts had always resulted in failures—clones that stood frozen, unable to speak or even move properly. Defective.

This one, however, was different. The clone stood upright, smiling, exuding an aura of health and vitality.

"Hey, Edric! How are you?" the clone said casually.

Edric couldn't contain his grin. "Hahaha! This is amazing!"

A Silver Rank Clone Spell could only replicate 10% of the caster’s strength, but unlike lower-tier versions, it could move, speak, and act normally. However, it still lacked independent consciousness—it could perform basic actions, but if placed under scrutiny, its flaws would become evident.

Time to test it.

"Strip naked," Edric commanded.

In theory, he should be able to control the clone without verbal orders, but his mastery wasn’t quite there yet.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The clone obeyed without hesitation.

Edric’s gaze drifted downward. He nodded.

"It should work."

A smirk crept onto his lips. He had a plan.

If he left and had the clone take his place, it could handle certain…"duties" on his behalf. Duties related to securing the next generation of the Windwalker family.

"Can clones have children?" he wondered.

The books held no answers to that question.

Edric knew one thing for certain—at least in terms of bodily functions, the clone was completely healthy.

Its only flaw lay in its lack of consciousness, not in its physique.

And with a fully functional body, there was no reason it shouldn’t be capable of having children.

According to the book, the clone was a real, physical being. Its flesh and blood existed just as any normal person’s did. If it died, its body would rot like any other corpse.

It was a clone, not an avatar.

Avatars were mere projections, formed from pure magic, lacking any physical substance. But clones… clones were real.

Ensuring the continuation of the Windwalker bloodline was a physically demanding task—but fortunately, it wasn’t mentally complicated. Even animals managed to do it instinctively, and they were far less intelligent than a Silver Rank clone.

If Edric left the task to the clone, he could sire children without actually becoming a breeding machine himself—a solution that was, truly, the best of both worlds.

Besides, considering the pattern of his system’s past tasks, it was highly likely that the next mission would also involve fathering a set number of children. It was best to prepare in advance—that way, once the task appeared, he would already have a head start, making completion much faster.

"Each clone lasts for twenty-four hours—unless it enters combat or expends too much energy," he recalled.

While the process of ensuring the Windwalker lineage’s future was physically intense, it wasn’t so strenuous that it would cause the clone to expire prematurely. There should be no issues.

With that thought, Edric swiftly stripped off his clothes and handed them to the clone.

"Now, I can finally leave without anyone noticing!"

A satisfied grin spread across his face.

...

Edric spent several days in the library, poring over every spellbook once more. He systematically learned every Silver Rank and lower spell available.

Meanwhile, his clone flawlessly carried out its duty, ensuring the Windwalker bloodline’s continuation. Not a single person noticed the switch—a testament to just how perfectly the spell had worked.

With his studies complete, it was time to leave.

Now that he was both a Golden Knight and a Golden Mage, returning to Windwalker Castle had become a trivial task.

The Windwalker Castle’s barrier was a Silver Rank formation, but it stood at the absolute peak of that level. While it couldn’t outright stop a Golden Rank Knight from entering, there had always been a risk it might detect him.

But now?

Now, things were different.

After his breakthrough, his mana had soared to unimaginable heights. He was far beyond the formation’s reach.

With even the simplest concealment spell, he could slip past undetected.

And so, without hesitation, Edric departed.

He couldn't stray too far, of course—he still needed to "recharge" the clone every twenty-four hours. But with that minor restriction in mind, he set off for his first destination.

Naturally, it was Kaelith Darkwind—now a Marquis.

Over the past few months, Edric had visited Kaelith several times. But each visit had been brief, constrained by the ever-watchful eyes of Marquis Windwalker, who had stationed countless guards around him.

Now, however, he had far more freedom.

Kaelith had successfully unified the Darkwind family and was on the verge of expanding his influence, poised to dominate a neighboring family.

Unfortunately for him, fate had other plans.

The Stonefist family had produced a Golden Knight, utterly crushing the Darkwind family's rising influence.

Now, just like the Windwalker family, the Darkwinds had been reduced to subordinates under Stonefist rule.

And just like the Windwalkers, the Darkwind family was seething with resentment.

However, compared to the Windwalker family, the Darkwinds had far less to lose.

For one, they had never produced a single legendary talent—which meant they were far less likely to be targeted.

Secondly, Kaelith, the de facto Marquis, had a rather amicable relationship with Duke Oscar Stonefist’s second daughter—a connection that had, at the very least, somewhat softened tensions between their families.

Rumors swirled that the two were soon to be wed.

And finally—on a more secretive note—Kaelith had something far more valuable: a Golden Knight backer.

If things ever took a turn for the worse, he had someone to call upon.

Of course, there was no guarantee that this mysterious Golden Knight would intervene… but the possibility alone was enough to give Kaelith some leverage.

Though no one else knew the truth, Kaelith did.

Without this hidden benefactor, his rise to power within the Darkwind family would have never been possible.

Of course, Kaelith wasn’t naïve.

He understood the reality of the situation. The Golden Knight hadn't helped him out of the goodness of his heart—there was a price to be paid.

And yet… in the several months since their first meeting, the mysterious figure had only visited him twice—and hadn't issued a single unreasonable order.

At first, Kaelith had feared he would become nothing more than a puppet, completely controlled by his benefactor.

But that hadn’t happened.

Far from it.

And now, rather than resentment, Kaelith felt something else entirely.

Relief.

Having a Golden Knight backer without being a puppet? That was an outcome far better than he had ever dared to hope for.

...

Seated in his father’s chair, Kaelith let out a weary sigh as he signed his father’s name onto the document before him.

Even though he held all the power, the true Marquis was still his father—barely conscious, completely incapacitated, and clinging to life by the faintest thread.

Legally, only his father’s name carried any weight on official documents.

But Kaelith had long since found a way around that.

He simply signed the documents in his father’s name.

Everyone knew it.

No one said a word.

His father would die any day now, and Kaelith would soon inherit the title officially. Challenging him over such a trivial technicality was pointless—and frankly, suicidal.

Not a single person was foolish enough to try.

Just as he was finishing the last stroke of his signature, a voice suddenly called out—

“Kaelith.”

Kaelith froze.

His heart skipped a beat as he instinctively looked up.

Standing before him was—

The mysterious Golden Knight.