From the falling glass, reflections emerged. Not illusions—echoes of past Leons. One wielded Shell Reverb at its peak. Another crackled with Core Destruction. A third bled pure Gold Magic. A fourth shimmered with Tandav's cursed flame.
Leon's breath caught.
"They're me…"
Vaer'Zhul pointed. "Kill them, or they will kill you."
The echoes charged, and Leon had no choice.
He clashed with the Shell Reverb version first—blows moving in exact synchronicity, canceling each other out. It was like fighting his own shadow, every strike met, every dodge mirrored. Leon had to twist the rhythm, deliberately miss a beat, creating a false vulnerability that baited the echo into overcommitting.
Boom.
One echo shattered, dispersing into glass shards.
But the others came faster.
