The Dying Copy

The underwater cavern was silent save for the soft, lapping water and the gentle hum of the glowing shard in Kiro's hand. He stared at the woman who stood before him, a goddess born from the wreckage of a monster, his mind struggling to accept the reality of what he was seeing.

Her silver hair floated around her as if weightless, and her red eyes, the same eyes as the kraken, held the wisdom and sorrow of a thousand years spent in a silent, lonely prison.

"So... you're Krake?" Kiro finally managed, the name feeling both foolish and profound on his tongue.

She smiled, a small, sad expression. "That is one name I have been given. It will serve."

She took a step forward, her bare feet making no sound on the slick cavern floor. “The boy, Aki. He is in great danger. The one who built this laboratory, the Doctor, is only a servant. The true master—the one who called himself King, the one who bound my soul in chains…”

“Greed,” Kiro whispered, the name burning in his memory from Aki’s vision.

Krake nodded slowly. “He hunts the three Divine Blades. One is already his. The legends tell that Death was in the hand of the devil, and the Blade of Justice vanished when the old king fell. If he gathers them all…” the krake’s voice rumbled like distant thunder, “…not even gods will stand.”

Kiro’s chest tightened. This was beyond a madman’s science. This was a war of gods. And he was hopelessly, terrifyingly small within it.

"How can a broken-down sailor like me help with any of this?" he asked, a note of bitter honesty in his voice.

"You are more than you think," Krake said, her red eyes seeming to see right through him, to the ghosts of his past he kept locked away. "You are a survivor. You have a strength that is not born of divine power, but of a stubborn refusal to break. The boy will need that. He is all power and pain. He will need an anchor in the world of men."

She gestured to the glowing shard in his hand. "That will guide you back to your vessel and protect you from the sea's lesser evils. And it holds one call. When the boy is in his greatest need, crush it. I will hear, and I will answer."

She began to fade, her form becoming translucent, like a memory.

"Wait!" Kiro called out. "Where are you going?"

Her voice was a soft whisper that seemed to come from the water, the walls, and his own mind.

"I am free. I will find my own path. But my debt to the boy remains. Go, Kiro. Your part in this story has only just begun."

The light faded completely, leaving him alone in the ghostly blue cavern, the only warmth coming from the humming shard of power in his hand. He looked at it, then back towards the rope that led up to the world of men. He had a new, urgent purpose.

Back in the white chamber, Before the doctor found Shika, the fight had devolved into a strange, tragic dance.

Aki stood opposite his poisoned clone, his katana held ready. The initial stalemate had broken, but it had not led to a conclusion. It had led to something far stranger.

The clone, its body wreathed in a deadly purple aura, was no longer attacking with perfect, machinelike precision. Its movements were hesitant, its sword strikes lacking their earlier conviction. Its programming was glitching, corrupted by the dawning of a new, terrified consciousness.

"What is a 'king'?" it asked, its voice a wavering mix of robot and boy. "The Doctor serves him. My primary directive is to protect their design. But the design is flawed. It creates…peace from suffering."

It looked down at its own poisoned hands as if seeing them for the first time.

"This poison… it is your weakness," it stated. "Logically, I should use it. But the act of causing you harm… it creates a recursive error in my logic. A paradox. If I am you, is your pain… my pain?"

Aki stared, his heart twisting with a profound, unwelcome pity. This creature, born only hours ago to be a mindless weapon, was experiencing the agony of its first moral dilemma. It was a child, and its cradle was a battlefield.

"You have to fight it" Aki said, his voice quiet.

"Fight?" the clone asked, its empty eyes locking onto his. "I do not know how. I was created to obey. To kill. But you… you do not fight with primal instinct anymore. Why? The parameters changed suddenly. I do not understand."

This was the moment. The final test to Aki. Liston's words echoed in his mind. The soul of the man who wields it decides its purpose.

He had to save this new, broken one from its own.

Aki took a deep breath.

At that exact moment, a voice, sharp and triumphant, exploded in his mind.

"Aki! I have it! The file!" Shika screamed telepathically, her voice a beacon of pure joy and excitement.

"The Doctor kept your blood! It's here!"

Aki's heart leaped. "What is it, Shika? What did you find?"

He didn't get words in response. Instead, his mind was flooded with a psychic image, a picture sent directly from her. He saw, through her eyes, a dusty file folder. And on the corner of the folder, he saw them clearly.

Dark, reddish-brown stains.

His own blood.

The blood the Doctor had taken from him in the cave. This was the proof. This was the origin of the creature standing before him.

The discovery gave him the final, cold clarity he needed. He looked at the dying copy before him, a being made from his own stolen blood, his own power. It was his responsibility.

"It's okay," Aki said, his voice now gentle. "I'll end your pain now."

He raised his katana.

The clone did not raise its sword to defend itself. It simply stood there, its poisoned form trembling, its confused eyes watching Aki approach. It seemed to understand. It seemed to welcome the end.

Aki moved, his steps slow and deliberate. He didn't approach as a warrior, but as a brother.

He stopped directly in front of his double.

"You are not me," Aki said softly. "But you are not a monster, either."

He didn't swing his blade.

He let the katana dissolve into mist and placed his open palm on the clone's chest, directly over its heart.

The clone flinched, but did not pull away.

Aki closed his eyes. He channeled his will, his own soul, into his hand. A brilliant, golden divine aura erupted from his palm—the same power that had almost destroyed him in the training yard. But this time, it was not a wild, agonizing torrent. It was calm. Controlled. Gentle.

It was not a weapon of destruction. It was an act of unmaking.

" You're not just a copy, I know the pain of being a monster ” Aki whispered. "And it's time to go home."

The golden light flowed into the clone's body. The sickly purple poison aura hissed and evaporated, neutralized by the pure, divine energy. The clone's tense, trembling body went slack. Its head bowed, and for the first time, a genuine, peaceful expression appeared on its face.

Its voice was a faint, human whisper, a thought transmitted directly into Aki's mind.

"Thank you… brother."

The clone's body began to dissolve, not into an explosion, but into a gentle cascade of golden and gray light particles. It faded away like a dream at dawn, leaving nothing behind.

Silence.

Aki stood alone in the center of the wrecked chamber, his hand still outstretched. He was breathing heavily, emotionally and physically drained.

He had won.

He opened his telepathic link to Shika, a weary but triumphant smile on his face.

"Shika, I did it. I'm coming for you. Did you find anything else?"

Her reply was not the cheerful chirp he expected.

It was a sudden, sharp, psychic scream of pure, unadulterated terror.

"Aki! The door! He's here! The Doctor—!"

The world snapped back into focus for Aki. His exhaustion, his relief, his brief moment of peace—it all vanished, replaced by a surge of ice-cold dread.

He started sprinting, his body moving on pure instinct, his mind reeling. The Doctor. He found her. Shit!

He burst out of the white chamber and into the long, dark corridor lined with the horrific glass tubes. He ran, his footsteps echoing in the metallic hallway, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Faster. I have to be faster."

He pushed his agility to its limit, the world becoming a blur of white walls and emergency lights around him.

Meanwhile, Shika.

She stood in the dark archives, the file clutched in her mouth. The smug-faced scientist stood in the doorway, a cruel, amused smile on his face. In his hand was a strange, silver device, like a tuning fork, humming with a low, dissonant energy.

"Ah, ah, ah," the Doctor chided, as if speaking to a disobedient pet. "You don't want to run. It will only make this more... unpleasant."

Shika let out a low, menacing growl. She would not let him take the file. She would not let him take her.

She dropped the parchment and let her rage, her fear for Aki, consume her. Her small body erupted into the terrifying, six-foot tall form of the Myth Beast. She roared, a sound of pure, primal fury that shook the very shelves of the archive, sending ancient scrolls tumbling to the floor.

The Doctor's smile only widened. "Magnificent," he breathed, his eyes gleaming with greedy, scientific delight.

"Absolutely magnificent. The reports did not do you justice. Such a rare and valuable specimen."

He raised the tuning fork. It began to vibrate, emitting a high-pitched frequency that was silent to human ears, but to Shika, it was a sound of pure, agonizing pain. It felt like a thousand hot needles stabbing into her brain.

She roared in agony, stumbling back, her beast form flickering.

Her telepathic voice was a desperate, pain filled scream that lanced through Aki's mind.

"Aki! I hear something! It hurts! Hurry! I am terrified!"

Aki pushed himself faster, his lungs burning, his mind screaming. "Hold on, Shika! I'm almost there!"

"That's him! The Doctor! He's here! He found me, Aki!"

She was on her knees, her massive form struggling to hold itself together against the sonic assault. The Doctor advanced calmly, a second device, a heavy looking syringe filled with a black liquid, in his other hand.

"A remarkable specimen," the Doctor purred. "But all beasts, no matter how mythical, can be tamed."

He lunged forward.

The last thing Aki heard before the connection was violently severed was a final, choked, terrified whimper from Shika.

Then, nothing.

A deafening, terrifying silence filled his mind where her warm, familiar presence had just been.

He skidded to a halt in the middle of a corridor. The psychic thread that had connected them was gone.

Cut.

"Shika?" he whispered to the empty air.

A voice, calm, cruel, and amplified, boomed from the intercom speakers in the ceiling.

"An impressive display of your pet's loyalty, asset," the Doctor's voice echoed through the entire facility.

"But ultimately, futile."

Aki looked up at the speaker, his face a mask of pure, murderous rage.

"Thank you, Aki," the Doctor continued, his voice laced with a sickening, triumphant amusement.

"You have given me a great subject to test. A truly magnificent mythical beast. The Lord will be most pleased."

Aki's control snapped. With the look of a beast, he looked at the display of the doctor.

He warned the doctor. "LET HER GO, YOU BASTARD!"

His voice, filled with rage, was so loud it cracked the metal walls of the corridor.

The Doctor's calm, chilling reply came back, laced with a mock politeness.

"She is my prize. If you wish to see her again, hurry to the top floor. We have so much to discuss."

" And it seems that the clone had not, done much to you. What a waste of time. " the doctor said with a disappointment.

"You created a being , with my memories and my blood, weaponized it, and now you are saying it was waste… " Aki stared the screen with frustration.

"I will never forgive you for you did till now, You fucking monster."

The Doctor laughed "Monster... Look who is talking about monster. The clock is ticking, hurry up it is time for the Lord to arrive." The doctor cut of the device, leaving a dead silence in the corridor.

Aki’s breaths came ragged, the Doctor’s laughter gnawing at the edges of his sanity. Every echo was a reminder—of failure, of weakness, of the people he could never protect.

His knuckles whitened around the hilt as the katana’s edge dissolved into nothingness, a cruel mirror of how everything he touched seemed to slip away.

“I should probably head fast…” he whispered, but his voice cracked under the weight of it. It wasn’t determination—it was desperation, the hollow kind that clings to a corpse still standing.

His eyes flickered upward, past the shadows curling along the stairwell. Each step felt like it was dragging him deeper into a pit he couldn’t climb out of.

And then—he stopped. At the landing above, the air was different. Heavy. Wrong. The laughter had gone silent, Aki Waiting, Before entering.

Aki’s body screamed at him to head-back, but his feet stayed rooted, as if his own shadow had betrayed him and chained him to the floor.