I crept cautiously forward, half-expecting a lethal bone to be launched into my side at any moment. But Olsgolon let me approach. I tightened my grip on my drows.

It made some sense, I supposed, that Olsgolon would honor a duel - everything else in that world had, and that included the Kalamuzi, which Olsgolon had created.

Stay alert, I thought to myself. Don’t take anything for granted. She - it - is not a person, not a human being. It’s worse than a monster. It could lie. If I start to win, it will almost certainly break its word. It’s only doing this because it thinks it can win, thinks it has a better chance fighting me like this than at range, for whatever reason - maybe it thinks I can just blow shit up at will. Doesn’t matter. It made a mistake, and yet probably thinks that I did. Capitalize on that.

And that thing it made, it isn’t Tom. It isn’t Tom.

I had to keep telling myself this because the closer I got, the harder it was to believe it. It was Tom - I could have shown a picture of it to his own mother and she’d have believed it was him. If his mother was ever around, that is.

I stopped moving, now within striking distance. The disturbing clone didn’t charge me, but only smiled. That smile.

That’s its plan, I thought. It thinks I’m the dangerous one - I’m the one who blew up its golden shell, after all. It heard the Kalamuzi coming - by now it may have even seen them itself, with Tom’s eyes. It wants to keep me busy. Split us up. Let the Kalamuzi kill or capture Amaia and Naomi while I fight it. It doesn’t even need to kill me. Injure me, or simply just exhaust me and my time, and the Kalamuzi will do the rest.

So I’ll have to be quick.

That voice in my head again, the voice of the devil if the devil was a woman. “Ready?”

I charged, saying nothing. A thrust for the heart. I wasn’t sure about the anatomy of the creature, but Kalamuzi seemed to work like anything else. They had hearts, blood. Being stabbed would have to do something.

The doppelganger flashed that grin back at me and copied my move. It was as quick as I was - quicker, even. I had no choice but to dodge to the side, abandoning my attack. It did the same.

An overhead swing - slow, obvious, only a feint - followed by a quick swipe at its drows arm, hoping to disarm it. It moved like my mirror image, reading my feint, blocking my swipe with one of its own.

I tried to kick at its ankles, hoping to catch it off balance and knock it over. It did the same, and neither succeeded.

Damnit, I thought to myself, after we had both taken a little distance. It’s like it knows what I’m doing before I do it.

I shot forward again, swinging wildly, screaming. Perhaps if I was quick enough, erratic enough, I could get through. But the doppelganger mirrored every action perfectly - even opened its mouth in a scream, though no sound came out.

Blow after blow thrown out, each one blocked by an identical movement from my identical opponent.

I could almost have smiled at the irony, if it wasn’t so frustrating. Is this how Tom felt?

I considered my magic, even though that would obviously be cheating. Olsgolon would be unable to copy it, I was sure, but what good would it do? I gave away the staff - which was for the best, anyway. I couldn’t go knocking myself out just then. But my nails on their own, what good were they? Would a creature which could eject its own hand at will be phased by being burnt? Would Olsgolon have even given the thing pain receptors?

I continued to trade drows strikes with the copy, but meanwhile my mind was working. I fought with only half my attention - which was fine, because the doppelganger did the same.

Another idea. I continued my half-hearted fighting, hoping to lull it into a false sense of security. Suddenly, without warning, I gave it everything I had, lunging forward as fast as I could manage.

Still it copied me, and the points of our weapons actually met. I barely kept hold of my anti-sword.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Is this all you’re going to do?” I yelled at it, half actually angry, and half hoping that the taunts would throw it off-guard. “Just copy me? Don’t you have any ideas of your own? Huh?”

The voice inside my head again. The fake Tom extended its hands at me, as if going for a hug. “Are you getting frustrated, Miles? Come here. Let Mother comfort you.”

“You’re not my mother,” I said. “You couldn’t make people, huh? Weren’t a good enough craftsman for that. Just a bunch of rats that you twisted into the shape of people. That’s the best you could do.”

Tom cocked his head at me. His lips didn’t move. “Really? Because I thought I made you just now. Or is my work not convincing enough for you?”

I shook my head. “That’s not me. It’s just a cheap imitation. Do you think moving that puppet around is impressive? It’s sad. You’ve got no real body of your own, so you have to take from others to do anything at all. Like a tapeworm.”

Tom smiled again. “When I assimilate your flesh, you will understand. You will be my son.”

“You’re just stalling for time. I’m done talking to you.”

“Whatever you say, Miles. You were the one who started talking.”

A tapeworm. For some reason that word struck a chord in me, after I spoke it. I looked down at psuedo-Tom’s ankle, where Olsgolon’s tendril fed into it. Kalamuzi lived on their own, disconnected, but could this thing? Had Olsgolon been able to form a self-sufficient being so quickly? Somehow I doubted it. Why would it still be connected?

Now I really did smile, and I was the one copying Tom again, his face plastered over the body of that creature, smiling back at me.

I ran forward in a manic dash, swinging my drows at random - and Tom copied it without a problem. But then, in the middle of a swing, I diverted my drows, and stabbed at the tendril.

Tom copied me - but of course, I didn’t have a tendril. His point stuck air.

But then he broke the pattern. Just before my weapon skewered the tendril, Tom swept his drows to the side, hitting my leg. There wasn’t much force behind it, but it was enough to cause me to stumble. I tumbled sideways, and scrambled to my feet before Tom could follow up.

I laughed, despite the failure. “I got you to do something different.”

“Congratulations.”

What now? I looked at that Tom, looking for another weakness, another difference. But there weren’t any. The tendril was it, and I needed to sever it, somehow. That was my best bet.

But if he wasn’t copying me anymore, then what? If he could do everything I could do, just as well, but also do other things that I couldn’t or didn’t think to do, what hope did I have?

If I swung at him, he could swing the same. If I stabbed at him, he could stab at me. If I tackled him, if I cheated and shot at him - whatever I did, it would be mirrored. So what could I do? How could I gain the advantage and get to that tendril? If Amaia and Naomi hadn’t been separated, that could have made the difference. But I couldn’t rely on my friends this time. What could I do that Tom couldn’t?

I smiled. That was it. The one thing I could do that Tom could never, ever do.

Lose.

I sprinted forward, drows primed for an obvious attack - no feint this time. Tom ran at me as well, identical movements.

I swung, and he blocked, but instead of separating and trying again, I held, and he held. We matched strength, evenly matched, neither of us budging an inch.

I headbutted him. He headbutted me at exactly the same time, and the result sent us both sprawling. But he recovered faster. I made a show of being injured by the exchange - which wasn’t hard to do, as my head felt awful. I groaned, and stayed down - and slipped my hand into my pocket.

Tom had already regained his feet, and for a moment, he just stood there, unsure what to do. But seeing that I was stunned, he gave up his mimicking act and walked over to me, drows in hand.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself - though of course I knew that Tom could hear me. “I’m seeing fucking stars. Damnit. Get it together, Miles. Get up.”

“It’s been a fun dance, Miles,” the voice said. Tom pointed the drows at me. “I look forward to spending eternity together.”

I met his blue eyes. “I’m afraid that you’ll be seeing eternity a lot sooner than I will, Tom.”

Confusion twisted his face. He looked down, saw my hand in my pocket, and desperately, uselessly, reached into his own. His own empty pocket.

I was close to the tendril now, being on the floor. I thrust my hand out, clutching every nail I could grab. I let go just over the tendril - melted them, then immediately ignited them.

Tom tried to stab at me at that last second, but it was too late. The fire burned away at the connection, and that terrible screaming sounded in my head again. Maybe Tom didn’t have pain receptors, but this thing did. The tendril flailed in pain, but that only quickened its fate, as the living part ripped free of the cauterized end.

Tom stood frozen. Then his grip loosened, and the drows clattered to the ground. It began to warp immediately, the steel exterior collapsing around the bone inside, which much have been deteriorating.

Then Tom started to shrivel up. It was like watching a man have all the blood sucked right out of him. He aged rapidly, and within a few moments, he was lifeless husk, lying on the chamber floor.

The fake Tom was dead. Now, Olgolon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another tendril appear, saw muscle and sinew weave together into a foot, then another, as Olsgolon tried to construct another avatar.

“You cheated!” The voice wailed.

“I won.”

I ran to the core, ignoring the new clone. White bones launched themselves at me, but they weren’t fast enough now. One grazed me in the side, but I hardly felt it. Either the adrenaline was keeping me going, or Olsgolon was focusing all her mana on creating another Tom.

I was only a few feet away now, my reflection in the orb’s surface now much larger than its source.

I almost stopped to cover my ears as a terrible screeching sounded again - I was getting really fed up with that. It was the sound of dozens of Kalamuzi, all roaring in unison. I stole a glance over my right shoulder.

The barriers had been dropped. I could just barely see Amaia, staff in hand, a sword floating beside her, taking swings at approaching Kalamuzi like it was wielded by the invisible ghost of a dead warrior. Beside her was Naomi, completely and utterly naked. Her dress lay on the ground a little behind her. The only thing obscuring her now were the white lines, which kept the Kalamuzi back a safe distance.

But that didn’t matter anymore. The Kalamuzi were ignoring them now. They were rushing at me.

I ran the last few steps to the orb, almost falling over but catching myself. I could feel the power emanating from it, felt it as it mixed with that feeling of anticipation on the surface of my skin that I had had ever since defeating Nolan. But I couldn’t think about that just then. I swung, bringing my drows down from above in a motion I’d made a million times.

A crack. A big, wide crack shot across the surface of the orb, splitting my reflection in half. More screaming. I ignored it. I struck again.

The crack widened, and more cracks branched off of it. I thought I could see light inside, now. White, almost colorless light escaping through the cracks. Now I could hear the Kalamuzi scrambling behind me. They’d be on me in moments. I swung again.

The core split open, and my vision was filled with blinding light.