In the bustling metropolis of Arcanum City, magic wasn't just a part of life—it was life itself. The skyline was dominated by the Four Towers, colossal structures of arcane might that housed vast libraries of magical knowledge. Each tower represented a different discipline: Vigor for physical enhancement and combat, Psyche for mental magic and illusions, Flux for transformation and alchemy, and Aether for spiritual and planar studies.

At the heart of the city stood the Mage Guild, a sprawling complex where magic-users of all levels came to hone their craft, take on jobs, and climb the ranks of magical society. It was a place of ambition, competition, and endless possibilities—for most, anyway.

For Nyx Shadowbrook, it was just a place of part time work as he figured things out.

Nyx stared at his reflection in the mirror, his deep violet eyes betraying a mix of amusement and resignation. His raven-black hair was disheveled, much like his current state of mind. Today will be different. Today, he was going to... who was he kidding? It would be just like every other day since he'd graduated from the Arcane Academy a year ago.

"Another thrilling day in the life of another one of Arcanum's wage slaves," he muttered, halfheartedly adjusting his standard-issue robes. He glanced at the clock and chuckled. He was already late, again. All the good assignment postings that paid well, and were easy to do would be gone.

With a carefree shrug, Nyx grabbed his wand and sauntered out of his tiny apartment. The streets were alive with magical activity—levitating delivery crates zipped overhead, while enchanted street lamps adjusted their glow to maintain optimal lighting. A group of eager first-year students from the Arcanum Academy hurried past, their animated discussion about advanced transmutation theory making Nyx roll his eyes.

He meandered towards the Mage Guild, his steps light and unhurried. As he entered the guild hall, the usual cacophony of spells being cast, potions bubbling, and mages arguing over magical theory assaulted his senses. Nobody paid him any attention as he tried to sneak to the bulletin boards job postings.

"Ah, Mage Shadowbrook," a stern voice called out. "So good of you to finally join us."

Nyx winced and turned to face Magister Eldridge, the guild's taskmaster. "Sorry, Magister. I, uh, got held up with some important magical research."

Eldridge raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? And would this 'research' happen to involve your pillow and excessive snoring?"

"You wound me, Magister," Nyx replied with a theatrical clutch at his heart. "I'll have you know I was deeply engrossed in... um... the arcane properties of dreams?"

"I'm sure," Eldridge said dryly. "Well, since you're so dedicated to your studies, I have the perfect task for you.” Eldrige held out his hand and a piece of paper flew off the board into his hand. “A minor spell scrolls collection needs organizing and cataloging. Think you can handle that without falling asleep?"

Nyx nodded glumly and made his way to the scroll room. Hours passed in a blur of dusty parchments and faded ink. By midday, Nyx had managed to sort through approximately a one third of the scrolls, having spent most of his time daydreaming about being a powerful archmage or sneaking quick naps behind particularly large stacks of documents.

As the afternoon wore on, Nyx's stomach growled loudly. He glanced around furtively before pulling out a slightly squashed sandwich from his robe pocket. Technically, food wasn't allowed in the scroll room, but surely no one would notice if he took a quick bite...

"Mage Shadowbrook!"

Nyx jumped, nearly dropping his sandwich on a pile of delicate scrolls. Magister Eldridge stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of disbelief and disappointment.

"I... I can explain," Nyx stammered, quickly swallowing his mouthful of food.

Eldridge held up a hand. "Save it. Just... just go home, Nyx. We'll try again tomorrow. Maybe by then you'll remember why you wanted to be a mage in the first place."

As Nyx trudged out of the guild, his mind wandered to his childhood dreams. He had once aspired to be a great archmage, to push the boundaries of magical knowledge and make his family proud. But somewhere along the way, that dream had faded, replaced by a comfortable complacency.

Instead of going straight home, Nyx found himself wandering towards the Four Towers. He gazed up at the awe-inspiring structures, feeling a faint stirring of the excitement he'd felt when he first got to the Arcane Academy.

"I could be great," he murmured to himself. "If only I had more... money."

It had been his first week in Arcanum City, a wide-eyed child full of dreams and ambition. A shady back-alley merchant, sensing easy prey, had sold him the tome, claiming it held the secret to unimaginable magical power. "Mental cultivation techniques," the vendor had proclaimed, "the key to unlocking your true potential!" Nyx had spent all the living expense money his family had given him on the book.

Nyx had been ecstatic, proudly showing off his purchase to his fellow students. Their laughter still echoed in his ears years later. "You got swindled, country boy!" they had jeered. Even the teachers had been merciless in their assessment. "Just because something bears traces of magic doesn't make it magical, Shadowbrook," they'd explained with thinly veiled exasperation.

For years, the book had gathered dust, a painful reminder of his naivety. Yet, Nyx had never been able to bring himself to throw it away. It had become a sort of talisman, a tangible link to the eager, hopeful child he'd once been.

Now, a year out of the Academy with little to show for it, Nyx found himself turning to the old tome more and more frequently. He knew, rationally, that it was nonsense. But in a world where his dreams seemed further away than ever, the book had become a comfort, like a child's favorite blanket or a well-worn stuffed toy.

As he entered his apartment, Nyx pulled out the book and ran his fingers over its worn cover. "Mental cultivation techniques, huh?" he mused aloud, his voice a mixture of self-deprecation and desperate hope. "What've I got to lose?"

He knew it was just a coping mechanism, a way to avoid facing his lack of progress and dwindling prospects. But as he settled onto his bed and opened the familiar pages, Nyx couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of that old childhood hope flickering to life. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

The worn tome, its pages dog-eared from countless nights of fruitless study. He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. Here he was, a year out of the Arcanum Academy, and instead of honing his craft through diligent practice and study like his peers, he was gambling his nights away on some obscure shady back-alley cultivation technique.

"'To divide the mind is to multiply potential,'" Nyx read aloud, the words practically etched into his memory. "More like 'to divide your time is to multiply your wasted efforts,'" he muttered.

As he settled into his familiar cross-legged position on the floor, Nyx felt a twinge of guilt. He knew he should be working on perfecting his spellcasting or normal cultivation, but the allure of a shortcut was too tempting to resist. It was easier to dream of instant success than to face the grueling reality of magical study.

"This is it," he told himself, as he had every night for the past year. "Tonight's the night I hit the jackpot. Who needs hard work when you can win the magical lottery?"

Closing his eyes, Nyx began to concentrate, pushing away thoughts of his neglected magical studies. He tried to ignore the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Magister Eldridge, chiding him for seeking an easy way out.

"'Clear your mind of all distractions and focus on the core of your being,'" Nyx recited, feeling like a gambler muttering a lucky mantra. "'Imagine your consciousness splitting, like light through a prism...'"

As he delved deeper into his meditation, Nyx couldn't help but wonder if he was betting his future on a long shot. But wasn't that easier than admitting he'd lost his drive? Then surrendering himself to the daily grind of magical practice?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Just as he was about to give up, to return to his comfortable bed, and routine of minimal effort and maximum daydreaming, something shifted. A strange sensation washed over him, as if his mind was stretching, expanding in ways he'd never experienced before.

"Whoa!" Nyx exclaimed, his eyes flying open. For a brief moment, he could have sworn he saw two transparent versions of himself sitting beside him. But as quickly as the vision appeared, it vanished.

Excited by this development, Nyx spent the rest of the evening practicing the technique. With each attempt, the mental split became clearer, lasting longer. By the time exhaustion forced him to bed, Nyx could maintain two mental clones for nearly a minute.

As he drifted off to sleep, Nyx's mind buzzed with possibilities. For the first time in years, he felt a spark of genuine excitement. Maybe, just maybe, this was the key to rekindling his old dreams of magical greatness.

"Tomorrow," he murmured sleepily, "I'll show them what Nyx Shadowbrook can really do. I'll become the archmage I always dreamed of being... once I figure out how to use this mental clone thing properly."

The next morning, Nyx woke up feeling different. His mana pool, usually a pitiful trickle, now felt like a steadily flowing stream. With a grin, he practically skipped to the guild, eager to see how his newfound ability would affect his work.

To his surprise and delight, Nyx found himself breezing through tasks that would have drained him completely just a day before. He even managed to complete the, scrolls collection organizing and cataloging without breaking a sweat, earning a raised eyebrow from the usually unimpressed Magister Eldridge.

As Nyx finished his work early for the day, he felt a sudden rush of energy and knowledge. A translucent blue screen appeared before his eyes:

Level Up!

Level: 1 → 2

HP: 100 → 110

MP: 85 → 175

Strength: 5 → 6

Vitality: 8 → 9

Agility: 7 → 8

Intelligence: 15 → 18

New Ability Unlocked: Mental Clone (Level 1)

- Create up to two mental clones during meditation

- Increases mana regeneration rate by 10% per active clone

New Skill Unlocked: Mana Meditation (Level 1)

- Increases mana regeneration rate by 5% while meditating

Nyx blinked in surprise. He had leveled up! And gained new abilities! As Nyx pondered the intricacies of magical advancement, he couldn't help but compare his journey to that of physical combat types. While both paths led to increased power, the methods couldn't be more different.

For mages like himself, leveling up was a cerebral affair. years of meditation, carefully circulating mana through their bodies, formed the cornerstone of their growth. Each session was a delicate dance of energy, coaxing more power from the ethereal currents that flowed through the world. It was a process that required patience, focus, and an iron will.

In contrast, physical combat types relied on the raw strength of their bodies. Their path to power was paved with sweat and strain, pushing their physical limits through rigorous training. Where mages sat in quiet contemplation, warriors and rogues could be found in training yards, their muscles burning as they honed their skills with blade and bow.

Both mages and physical types could also gain experience through combat, defeating monsters and overcoming challenges. Yet even here, the nature of their growth differed. A mage might feel their magical reserves expanding after a hard-fought battle, while a warrior would sense their muscles becoming more responsive, their reflexes sharper.

Nyx marveled at the diversity of paths to power. His own recent level up had caught him by surprise, bringing with it new abilities he'd never dreamed of. "This is unprecedented," he muttered, still in awe of his newfound strengths.

With renewed enthusiasm, Nyx hurried home to continue his training. Whether through meditation or monster-slaying, he was determined to push the boundaries of his magical potential. The road ahead was long, but for the first time, he felt truly excited about the journey.

Over the next few days, Nyx fell into a new routine. He'd complete his guild tasks with his enhanced magical capacity, then rush home to practice his mental clone technique. Soon, he could maintain two mental clones indefinitely, using one for continued mana cultivation while with one eye open he studied magical theory.

A week after his initial breakthrough, Nyx decided to push himself further. Sitting in his usual meditation pose, he focused on creating a third mental clone.

Nyx Shadowbrook's heart raced as he settled into his meditation pose, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across his cramped apartment. The past week had been a whirlwind of magical advancement, each day pushing the limits of his newfound mental clone technique. But it wasn't enough. He craved more power, more knowledge, more everything.

"Just one more," he whispered, his violet eyes glinting with a feverish light. "One more mental clone, and I'll be unstoppable."

He knew the risks. Each additional mental clone strained his psyche, threatening to tear his mind apart. But the potential rewards... they were too tantalizing to ignore.

Nyx closed his eyes, focusing inward. Two spectral versions of himself materialized in his mind's eye, familiar and comforting. But he didn't stop there. With gritted teeth, he reached deeper, gambling everything on this moment.

A searing pain lanced through his skull as a third mental clone began to form. The room around him seemed to warp and twist, reality bending under the weight of his magical exertion. Sweat beaded on his brow as he pushed harder, ignoring the warning screams of his body and mind.

the candle light went out.

Suddenly, a cold laugh echoed through the room. Nyx's eyes snapped open, only to see himself—completely naked—sitting on the bed. Then, everything went black.

When Nyx regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that he was on the floor. The second thing he noticed was that someone was snoring. On his bed.

Groaning, Nyx pulled himself up and froze. There, sprawled across his bed and drooling slightly on his pillow, was... himself.

"What in the name of the Four Towers?" Nyx exclaimed.

The figure on the bed stirred, blinked, and then sat up abruptly. "Oh, hey there," it said in Nyx's voice. "Sleep well?"

Nyx grabbed his doppelganger by the shoulders. "You... you're me?"

The clone rolled its eyes. "Obviously. Nice place you've got here, by the way. Very... cozy."

"But how?... I mean, you're physical! You're real!"

"As real as you are," the clone replied with a yawn. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up never."

Nyx's mind raced. A physical clone! The possibilities were endless. "Wait!" he said as the clone started to lay back down. "You can't go back to sleep. You need to go to work for me!"

The clone snorted. "Yeah, no thanks. I've got all your memories, remember? I know exactly how boring that guild work is. Hard pass."

Frustration welled up in Nyx. "But... but you're me! You're supposed to help me!"

"I am helping you," the clone replied. "I'm helping you realize that your job sucks and you should find a better one. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Nyx paced his small apartment, running his hands through his disheveled hair as he glanced nervously between his clone and the door. The clone lounged on the bed, a perfect mirror image of himself, radiating an air of stubborn defiance.

"Come on," Nyx pleaded, "we can't both stay here. Someone might see you!"

The clone yawned dramatically. "Not my problem. I'm going back to sleep."

Frustration bubbled up inside Nyx. He'd created this clone, surely there had to be a way to... un-create it? He closed his eyes, focusing on the magical energy that flowed through him. He could feel a connection to the clone, like a thread of mana stretching between them.

What if... Nyx thought, I just... cut that thread?

Concentrating hard, Nyx visualized severing the magical link. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sudden pop of displaced air, the clone vanished.

Nyx's eyes flew open, a mixture of triumph and shock on his face. "I did it!" he exclaimed to the empty room.

Then a rush of memories hit him like a tidal wave. He staggered, clutching his head as his clone's brief existence flashed through his mind. It was overwhelming, disorienting, and left him reeling for what felt like hours but was only thirty minutes.

As Nyx finally regained his composure, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. He had created a physical clone! But it had been lazy, unmotivated. How was this possible? It was just like him.

A narrow bed was pushed against one wall, its covers haphazardly thrown back. Opposite stood a worn desk, its surface barely visible beneath stacks of parchment, inkwells, and half-finished magical calculations.

In one corner, a small hearth provided warmth and a place for simple cooking. Beside it, a basin for washing up spoke of the room's multifunctional nature. A circular rug in the center of the floor, its intricate patterns faded with age, added a touch of home to the cluttered space.

As afternoon sunlight filtered through the single window, Nyx decided it was time for some long-overdue cleaning. He started with the desk, sorting papers into neat piles and corking half-empty ink bottles. Dust motes danced in the air as he worked, causing him to sneeze more than once.

Next came the daunting task of reorganizing his book collection. Nyx just moved around the stacked towers of books to open up his walking space. With the main living space tidied, Nyx turned his attention to personal hygiene. He filled the basin with water, warming it with a quick fire spell - one of the few practical magics he'd mastered. As he washed, he couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of a mage using magic for such mundane tasks.

Clean and refreshed, Nyx's stomach reminded him it was time for a meal. He rummaged through his meager pantry, emerging with a hunk of cheese, some slightly stale bread, and an apple that had seen better days. It wasn't much, but it would do.

With a start, Nyx realized the sun was setting. He'd spent the entire day unconscious and dealing with his clone mishap. "Great," he muttered. "Another day wasted."

As he prepared for bed, his father's words echoed in his mind: "Some people could have their dream opportunity handed to them tomorrow. They would be miserable; do you know why? Because they wouldn't have any more excuses, and never built any discipline to work hard."

Nyx felt tears welling up in his eyes. He had been handed an incredible opportunity, a unique magical ability that could change everything for him. And what had he done? Created a clone as lazy and unmotivated as himself.

As he drifted off to sleep, Nyx made a silent promise to himself. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, he would start building the discipline his father had talked about. Tomorrow, he would start becoming the mage he always dreamed he could be.