With a thunderous roar, the Scotsman, garbed in knee-length mail, a bearskin draped over his shoulders, and a helmet styled like a wolf's maw, hoists his claymore and covers the distance separating us in one leap.

I dodge the attack by jumping upwards, nearly cracking my head as the barrier encircling the arena ends just five meters above the ground. I must push off with my hands from this invisible wall quickly and veer to the side to avoid falling directly onto my adversary's sword. The worst outcome was avoided, but the Scotsman capitalized on my mishap and hooked my foot, causing my prana to plummet by nearly a quarter.

Fall, roll, block.

What's happening?!!

Who am I battling? Is it a fellow Knight? No... It's something foreign, outwardly indistinguishable, but intrinsically different.

The heavy two-handed sword dances in the hands of the pseudo-Scotsman like a weightless stiletto, shifting the angle of attack, perpetually seeking an opening... To strike.

This opponent is different from everyone I've ever encountered in this world. He's not just capable of holding a sword, he knows how to wield it! And he does it well, I must admit, very well.

Moreover, he possesses all the abilities of a raig and knows how to exploit them. Sometimes he abruptly alters the attack vector while sliding, then leaps up and, using the barrier for leverage, assaults from an unexpected angle. However, I'm only slightly behind in utilizing such tactics, except that sliding at my first level is unavailable. There's only one difference between us: I don't attack, not because I can't, but because I'm busy analyzing the situation. I'm assessing the enemy's fighting style while simultaneously attempting to observe what's transpiring in the other arenas.

And what I see in one of them, I find highly disconcerting. There, merely a hundred meters to the east, a raig outfitted in samurai armor is combatting against me! Or more accurately, the way he fights... He's fending off with the last of his strength - that's the proper way to phrase it. Just a couple of glances there, and it's evident that the samurai stands no chance against my clone... Or is it a doppelganger?

Meanwhile, the pseudo-Scotsman grows more and more irate, unable to penetrate my defenses. With each assault, he becomes more aggressive, faster, and more assertive, but as always happens in such scenarios, the defense suffers.

He's a skilled swordsman. In comparison, the Korean brothers were no match for him; he might have even been capable of taking on two MAs simultaneously. He's not bad, but that's it. Here he's executing a cross attack, anticipating it to cleave me from thigh to sternum. I've been awaiting this moment for the last 20 seconds. And since I anticipated it, I seized it completely. When the claymore momentarily stalled at its lowest point, "Word" thwarted it with a counter-block, preventing it from rising for defense, and "Purity," unimpeded in the oncoming clash of bodies, performed a series of rapid attacks, stabbing this enigmatic impostor, which assumed the form of one of us, repeatedly through the chest. It attempted to flee but failed. Unsure of the reliability of the barrier separating the arenas from the remainder of the Break and then from reality, I didn't even afford the creature a chance to test it. On the fifth strike, the double burst into fog, which was sucked into the glass column that had risen again from the sand.

The moment this happened, I understood that if we lose in this Breakthrough, this filth would seize our bodies: we would continue living as we did, yet it would be pursuing its own unknown objectives. And no one could distinguish them from the original - they would be identical in every aspect: the same memory, aura, set of skills, and habits. Yet they would remain an inhuman entity, a product of some deranged imagination, with unknowable motives and tasks.

Sheathing my weapons, I survey the surroundings. In the other three columns, as in mine, a faceless mist pulsates, but in the rest, four Knights are immobilized.

So, what's next?

Is this how the replacement will occur? It's imperative to remember the distinguishing features, forms of armor, and helmets of those who lost, because if it isn't them who emerge from these arenas into the world, we'll have to sound all available alarms. Two of the casualties, namely the Scotsman who fell to Crixus's double and the samurai slain by my clone, I've somewhat memorized. And now I scrutinize the other two, noting the minutest details.

But then the arenas rise from the ground, swirling in such a rapid whirling dance that everything blurs in my vision, and nausea surges to my throat. This transition lasted a few seconds, after which the sealed columns with the defeated fog were ejected, and the remaining eight arenas coalesced into four. And I saw my new adversary. Sturdy, broad-shouldered, donned in the bulky full armor of late chivalry with a massive double-bladed ax gripped in powerful hands. One would never guess that a young man is concealed beneath this armor. His physique is too formidable, more befitting a weightlifter.

I managed to glimpse the adjacent arena, where my double was engaged in combat with Crixus. I'm surprised this audacious lad survived his initial round, but I even feel a tinge of sympathy for him here. As our last encounter demonstrated, given that the double possesses all my skills and abilities, the outcome of this fight is a foregone conclusion.

As for my confrontation with such a heavy and lengthy polearm as a two-handed ax, there's little sense in remaining in defense. Therefore, as soon as the enemy emerged from the column, I immediately sprang into the offensive. And was met with a straight thrust to the chest, forcing me to abruptly halt and block the razor-sharp crescents of the enemy's blades instead of launching the planned attack.

Unlike the Scotsman, this opponent behaves markedly differently. He doesn't rush headlong, hoping to overpower and demolish with his onslaught, but moves outwardly slowly, deliberately, and judiciously. The enemy doesn't swing the ax as often depicted in movies, with broad strokes from the shoulder. Instead, he extends it like a spear and repels my attacks not with the shaft but with a subtle wrist rotation that makes the wide crescent-shaped blades swiftly close any openings. He's a tricky and inconvenient adversary for a swordsman. The weight of my weapon is insufficient to knock the enemy's weapon down or aside, and the omnipresent crescent blades obstruct reaching his hands. It would have been simpler if I had a claymore or Crixus' gross messer at my disposal. But I can't choose my opponents in the Break, so I have to dance with what I've got.

However, I don't have to abide by someone else's rules. This isn't some honorable duel. Therefore, after tangling with such an inconvenient foe in a confined space for nearly a minute, I launch a series of attacks with "Purity" and strike with "Word," targeting the thigh. The enemy doesn't even budge because he perceives my strike to fall almost two palms short. But I wasn't planning to strike in a lunge; instead, I hurled the weapon.

There it is!

In reality, this would never have transpired - the armor would have withstood the blow, but different rules apply in the Break, and armor poses no obstacle to the swords of raigs.

"Word" embedded itself into the axeman's leg, depleting a third of his energy reserve. But he barely reacted, merely twitched slightly and then drove me away with a forceful sweep of his weapon. The sword, true to the nature of a phantom blade, fell to the sand after inflicting a wound and losing support. Only the wakizashi remained in my hands, and the armored man finally exhibited emotion. He roared like a young bull and charged forward laughing, deeming me defenseless with only a short sword in my grasp. When he nearly cornered me at the edge of the barrier, I summoned "Word" to me, raising my hand above my shoulder to chin level. The creature couldn't comprehend what happened when blue steel pierced the back of its head and emerged through the eye socket. The double froze and then disintegrated into gray smoke, drawn back into the column. I probably could have handled it differently, but utilizing the "Sword Throw" guaranteed an effortless victory. And I wasn't one to take chances. Now isn't the time to gamble.

Before returning the sword to its sheath, I kissed its hilt and whispered:

"Thank you!" Then, I surveyed the surroundings.

The young gladiator, as I predicted, succumbed to my double, but the rest delighted me by winning their fights. Among the originals, besides me, were the actual axeman, whose clone I had just encountered, and a tall lad, almost my height, slim as a reed, dressed as a noble Chinese warrior of the Tang Dynasty, with characteristic dog-head-shaped shoulder pads on his armor. He wielded a long-bladed glaive.

So it's three of us against one clone? And how will the Break resolve this? Will it set us all loose on it, or?.. It turned out to be the "or"...

Again, the arenas engaged in their whirling dance, and my clone was set against the axeman. And the Chinese warrior and I were relegated to spectators, confined within the circles of our barriers.

The adversaries meet, and I turn into pure attention. When else will you have the opportunity to witness a battle of your own self from the sideline in real-time, albeit cloned or somehow copied? To observe from a distance!

Much like the real me, this adversary also proved to be a challenge for the double. As in my fight, the armored man didn't strike with the hope of finishing the battle quickly, but he consistently applied pressure, attempting to corner his opponent against the barrier or coax out a mistake. I've encountered those devoted to the restoration of ancient ax-wielding schools, but they all fell short of this mysterious raig. He knew how to handle his weapon and was also trained to about my level! His movements, his grips, his confident wrist rotations all hinted at some form of old school training. And not a shabby one at that, as my clone kept lunging and retreating. He'd strike again, and each time his attack path would be blocked by those omnipresent blades.

But the longer I observed this fight, the more peculiarities I noticed in my double's behavior: Here, he took an unnecessary step; there, he blocked too high, and then, rather than retreating, he oddly chose to intercept the ax with the wakizashi. Even the rhythm, the melody of the battle, was being increasingly dominated by the axeman. The rhythm, the beats! How could my double allow a relatively slow opponent to dictate the tempo of the duel? But he did, and my clone was progressively losing ground, making more and more errors. With every passing second, the armored man exuded increasing confidence.

On one hand, I was glad to see the creature losing. On the other hand, it was somewhat unsettling to watch my duplicate fumble. It was a peculiar, irrational sentiment, but it lingered for some reason. Here, the clone attempts what seems like an utterly pointless attack, hoping to strike the opponent's hand. I can see from a distance that this attack is destined to fail. For even a minimal chance of success, the double needed to exhaust the enemy first, feign an attack, utilize "Purity," and only then strike. But he decided to penetrate the raig's defense purely with his speed. A mistake! A foolish, juvenile mistake! And he paid for it - the armored man rotates his hands, and the broad blades of the ax provide ample protection for his palms. He promptly follows his defense with a counter-attack, and the double barely manages to put up a block with the wakizashi, hastily breaking away.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The longer the fight rages on, the more apparent it becomes that this creature isn't an exact replica of me. It's almost me, but not quite. No, this isn't about appearance - in that respect, everything is strikingly identical. The difference lies elsewhere. It fights worse! And it's not just that my mistakes are supposedly more noticeable from the outside. No! It seems that something unknown produced an outdated copy. If this were ten days ago, I'd likely have fought just like the double. But since then, much has evolved - the training on the waves, the step forward in mastery that followed it... After my dance in the port, I transcended the threshold between apprentice and master, yet the double remained on the lower rung!

This is a copy of me from the last Breakthrough!

As soon as this hypothesis formulated in my mind, I immediately knew it to be correct. And not just my double, but everyone else's too. So then, does my double possess a "sword throw"? Technically, I acquired it after repelling the last Breakthrough. And, given how the battle is progressing - he doesn't! But the armored man, having witnessed how my duel with his clone concluded, feared that the duplicate might use this trick.

Meanwhile, the fight was headed towards a clear conclusion. My likeness was losing ground. It continued to bite back, exploding in a cascade of unexpected attacks, and even managed to score a couple of hits on the armored man, but overall, the duel's outcome was already determined. The Chinese Knight concurred with my assessment. He glanced at me, nodded towards the arena where the battle raged on, and gave a thumbs up.

And then, just when everything seemed all but settled, the axeman abruptly altered his fighting pattern and launched a ferocious assault!

Why?!!

Sticking to his initial strategy, he would've eventually defeated my double! So why this sudden shift?! Yes, his attacks became more menacing, but at the same time, he exposed himself!

"Don't do that!" I shout, but then realize that my outcry is stifled by the barrier.

This escalation and turn towards aggression is a mistake! The opportunity is promptly seized by the double. Previously cornered and seemingly doomed, he revives, his dance accelerating, growing more assertive. Can't the armored man see that he's erring? Why is he doing this? He's about to fumble the victory! Perhaps the raig's young age is to blame: sensing victory within his grasp, he couldn't restrain himself and opted to hasten the conclusion. What a fool! My thoughts aren't just driven by baseless panic, and the double's new successful counterattack confirms them.

The axeman could still revert to a defensive stance! But just like before, he keeps charging at the elusive double like a wind-up toy, his attacks failing to land on the fluid doppelgänger who deftly evades his blows. What a foolish child!

Wait, is he preparing for a sweeping low strike? An axe against a sword?! I want to yell, "Idiot!" even knowing I won't be heard, but I don't get the chance. The axeman decides to execute this attack. Yes, if it lands, the fight will end instantly, but...

As I predicted, the clone swiftly closes the gap, preempting the acceleration of the axe with a wakizashi block, and delivers a swift, sharp, and precise strike with the sword. The blue steel of the pseudo "Word" lunges towards the axeman's nose bridge, and he can only lift his left palm in a futile attempt at defense. It's a gesture of desperation and defeat. The blade will effortlessly pierce the hand and continue on its path...

That's what would've happened if, at the moment the sword made contact with the axeman's palm, the knight's plate glove hadn't erupted in a golden glow. The double's blade reverberates plaintively against this glow and is deflected as if it had struck a solid anvil!

The Gold skill "Steel Palms." So that was the armored man's strategy! And it pays off completely. It's no challenge for the sturdy Knight to finish off the clone, disoriented for a moment.

Whew! It's a good thing I didn't prolong the fight with his double. Otherwise, considering how our battle went, he might have caught me off guard like that! Darn it! I must always think, always! I've known from the start that the Goldmarked were congregated here, yet it didn't occur to me that they, like me, might have their own unique ace up their sleeve, similar to my "Sword Throw." It didn't cross my mind! I'm lucky none of the clones I fought against used their special moves. Otherwise, I might have ended up lying unconscious in a glass column, like Crixus, rather than standing on my own two feet.

As soon as my clone dissipates, all the glass columns containing the mist shrink into dots and vanish, while the columns containing the unconscious raigs crack and free their captives. I was prepared for the defeated and unconscious knights to be immediately ejected from the Break, landing right in front of a group of tourists. Instead, a snow-white whirlwind ensnares their projections, preventing them from doing so. The barriers of the arenas also wobble and crumble, their remains settling on the ground as rusty sand.

Phew... Well... It seems none of us will be replaced!

Aware that time is running short, I press my fist to my chest and address the axeman and the Eastern Knight:

"We made it!"

"One-one!" The armored Knight immediately responds. I understand he means that I defeated his double, and he defeated mine.

"My respect, masters!" The Tang warrior speaks up and bows low. "It was like a 'Quantum Mirror'..."

Before I can ask what he means, we're all lifted off the ground and pulled by an unyielding current, accelerating us in the direction where we each received the Call, unconscious ones included.

Indeed, no light descends from the spectral skies this time. Our true reward is our survival. Still, what transpired was, albeit unconventional, a legitimate Breakthrough. Its successful repulsion bestowed upon me the expected rewards - level two. My energy reserve has increased by almost one and a half times, and I've gained three new abilities. Two of which are standard. One is the "Sliding" I'm already familiar with, and the second is "Shock Sword." A perk given to all Knights at the second or third level that transforms a lethal blow from the Break into a non-lethal one, completely draining the victim's strength without causing any health damage. Maya probably used this to apprehend the unlucky thief who tried to snatch Miss Horn's purse. The third skill is personal and unique, a result of the Golden Gift - "Mental Shield." It prevents anyone from reading my thoughts, emotions, and even aura. Activating it, while consuming prana, shields me from any form of suggestion. Best of all, it works not only in the Break but also in reality!

Meanwhile, the current sweeps me home and deposits me on my bed. The impact of hitting the pillow with my head acts as a sedative, putting me to sleep immediately.

The alarm's jingle rings out like a shotgun blast by my ear. Springing up, I sit on the bed and take a few seconds to orient myself. At first, everything that transpired during the night seems like an incredibly realistic, vivid, and detailed dream. But as soon as I tune into my sensations, it becomes clear it was no dream.

It was an unusual, even strange Breakthrough in many respects. I had previously thought the Call was location-based, only summoning nearby Knights, but last night has shown that assumption to be flawed.

Rising from bed, I wash up and, while waiting for the kettle to boil, explore my new sensations. The "Mental Shield" isn't immediately noticeable. It's almost imperceptible, like a weightless veil draped over your head that seems non-existent unless you focus on it. It's an intriguing ability, but I'm unsure if it will ever be useful for me - its properties are very specific. And I hope I'll never encounter a situation that necessitates its activation.

I'm keen to venture into the Break and evaluate the new capabilities offered by the second level. I've become stronger and faster in the Break and am eager to experience the Sliding, but it will have to wait.

Moreover, when I tried to tune into the Shield, I experienced a strange sensation. Alongside the three abilities, the Break seemed to have granted me something else, akin to a small bonus in the form of an unmanifested additional skill. It felt like a soft, small ball, like wool, slumbering deep within my mind. Its nature and the method to activate it were completely obscure. The only certainty was that this was a gift, not something harmful. As to how to awaken this new ability, it remains unknown. It should awaken on its own when the time comes.

Snapping out of my introspection, I found myself re-examining the details of the Breakthrough and began pacing the room nervously. Has a similar instance of possible replacement occurred before, or is this the first? Are there unknown beings in human form, born from the Break, walking amongst us? Can I trust anyone given this newfound information?

A soothing, calming warmth radiated from my left palm at the thought. Surprisingly, even "Purity" can sometimes be beneficial! Based on the sensations, it appears the wakizashi, due to its specific properties, will alert me to the presence of any Impure beings nearby. This realization eased my anxiety. Truly, these duplicates are my worst nightmare, far more dreadful to me than any monster or Break entity. This is extremely good news! For a moment, the idea of not searching for a way to rid myself of this blade even crossed my mind, but the notion quickly evaporated. While "Purity" may prove useful, living with it is a constant challenge. So, when I finally acclimate to this new world, I'll certainly address this issue and find a way to destroy the white blade while still keeping myself alive. I can only hope this happens before the wakizashi pulls me into a situation I can't survive.

I had specific plans for today, but due to last night's events, I reconsidered and postponed them until tomorrow. The situation with potential substitutions weighs more heavily on my mind. I could take this information to the rector of the Temple of the Immaculate Virgin right now. Why him? Because, besides holding a high rank, he's also a Maker, and who better than the church to address issues of soul substitution? The only thing holding me back from this visit is the possibility that I could be mistaken for such a creature, given that my soul originates from another world. Therefore, I'll keep this option as a last resort.