The Fake and the Real

The fake charged at me with terrifying speed inside the Transmigration Labyrinth. With every step, the floor shattered beneath his feet as the blood-soaked greatsword in his hand gleamed. It was a long dagger the length of a forearm. Made from superalloy, its razor-sharp edge delivered exceptional cutting power. Despite being optimized like a surgical blade for slicing, its durability was outstanding—it rarely broke or dulled. Compared to the longsword I held now, its craftsmanship was probably superior. But I possessed something this fake could never have.

The power of a blessing I had never even given a name, and magic.

I sprinted straight toward the fake version of myself that was rushing at me. Lightning crackled with every stride. My brain, burning white-hot with electricity, devoured every scrap of information like a starving beast. The distance closed in an instant. I leaped across the space painted electric blue, pouring acceleration into the longsword gripped in both hands as I swung it down.

The fake’s greatsword—its blade as long as a forearm—clashed against my longsword.

The sound was so deafening it felt like my eardrums would burst. But I didn’t stop. The greatsword accelerated again in tandem with the fake’s stepping foot. I retreated half a step. The next six strikes came in rapid succession. I knew the exact trajectories the fake Ha Jinwoo would take and responded perfectly.

I deflected all six blows and counterattacked, slicing into him. A chunk of his vambrace tore away. When our eyes met, the fake Ha Jinwoo’s face twisted with pure rage. He still had half of his exoskeleton combat suit. In terms of raw power, I was at a disadvantage. But the gap was only slight. With the increased speed granted by becoming lightning, I could handle both his sword and limbs. The real problem was duration. This state wasn’t something I could maintain indefinitely. I could already feel my body creaking. My brain burned. My muscles burned. Heat surged through me. An unbearable itch crawled across my entire body.

There were only two ways to maintain this condition: limit the output, or limit the duration. This time, I chose the latter.

I knew myself too well. If I fought sloppily, mixing half-measures, I would be the one to lose. Had it ever been any different? Fighting had always meant staking your life. There was no such thing as a safe, flawless battle. Only by wagering your entire life could you protect it. That was why I used every means available and fought with desperate ferocity.

Because I understood that, I used everything I could.

Alice’s magic that I had already experienced once. An intermediate-level spell that pushed the divinity of the God of Art to its extreme—the Song of Offering. A composite spell that drew on the divinities left behind by the God of Lust and the God of Art to dramatically enhance a target’s physical abilities. It provided nourishment and tonic effects, bodily activation, improved coordination, and even mild pain suppression. It was a spell that greatly boosted physical capability from the most fundamental level. There were side effects, but they were within an acceptable range.

I had accepted the spell in order to crush the version of myself wearing the exoskeleton combat suit.

I crossed my feet to disrupt his balance, then kicked out with the greatsword still raised in guard against the incoming attack.

CRRRRRACK!

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The fake Ha Jinwoo was sent staggering backward. The moment his widened eyes locked onto me, I twisted my entire body, pulling the longsword far behind me before swinging it forward in a massive arc. The distance was too great to reach. Naturally, he didn’t bother blocking.

But—

The sword strike, moving as if its trajectory had extended, sliced through the exoskeleton on the arm he reflexively raised. The path looked different from what his senses told him. Even as his face crumpled in confusion, the fake Ha Jinwoo closed the distance. If his sense of distance was broken, he simply needed to stick close. The foot he stepped forward with trembled. His body tilted. His eyes widened in incomprehension. I brought my longsword down toward his head.

SHAAAAAAAAK!

“Ugh…?!”

He rolled across the ground, eyes wide with disbelief. He had reflexively twisted to reduce the impact, but the superalloy blade had already carved through his eye. Blood sprayed. His steps faltered. He dropped to one knee, visibly shaken as his five senses went haywire. He closed his remaining eye, but it was meaningless. My micro-current operated in the realm of a sixth sense. It couldn’t prevent the dizziness caused by disrupted senses.

The spell—Sensory Deception—an intermediate-level spell utilizing the divinity of trickery. It wouldn’t last long. Kiyara had already said she didn’t have much mana left. Seeing the fake Ha Jinwoo stand up while bleeding confirmed it.

That was why I couldn’t waste even a single momentary opening.

I closed the distance and swung my longsword. A blade made of blood drew a crimson arc. Even after losing an eye, he raised his blade to block, but—

He was overwhelmed in power. Length, posture, weight—every aspect was inferior. He was pushed back. The fake grit his teeth as he staggered, glaring at me even as he tried to regain his footing. He had finally realized he was the fake. The fatalism he had never doubted until now was beginning to crack.

The meaning of his existence was to cause an android endless suffering. To endlessly slaughter the nightmares that kept appearing, hammering against the iron bars of the prison created by the master of this labyrinth. To maintain the dungeon through the constant terror that arose from that cycle. He glared at the fate he could not choose with seething hatred. The flawless continuity he had believed in so firmly had been tarnished. The moment he realized he was fake, it all came crashing down.

The endless chain of blind revenge. The slaughter that had continued without him ever feeling any sense of wrongness. The faded divine will and memories from long ago.

Crackle…!

Electricity flowed across his body. Kill Switch. Something the South Korean government had implanted in me to kill me, but which I had discovered and conquered long ago. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He accelerated. The dark green of the exoskeleton combat suit left afterimages as he charged.

My body was shoved backward. Jeokjo slipped from my grasp and rolled across the floor, but I had lowered my stance in time and held my ground. Instead, our eyes met at point-blank range.

If I pushed myself, I could win. Even though lightning coursed across his skin from the Kill Switch, it had no effect on me in my lightning form. If I raised the output further, I could overwhelm him. But that wasn’t the victory I wanted. I wanted a victory where no one died or got hurt. A victory won without forcing myself. A victory that wasn’t mine alone, but one achieved together with all my companions.

I kicked the fake Ha Jinwoo’s knee.

CRACK!

His body flinched. His posture broke. Reflexively, I sliced through both our micro-currents so that the arrow flying toward us couldn’t be dodged.

THUD!

The arrow aimed at his head pierced his cheek and tore away part of his face as it flew past. I drove my fist into the opening that created.

CRACK!

His head snapped back. Blood flowed. Knowing it was coming, he had already thrown his leg. It slammed into my stomach and sent my body flying. Even so, we moved at the exact same time. We charged toward each other in a straight line.

His fist approached. A punch thrown in advance, predicting my speed. I deflected it with my elbow before it could land—tap—then KWANG!—and drove my own fist into his face. I knocked aside the incoming right hand and swung my left fist, which had been kept close to my body, in an uppercut. Blood sprayed. Flesh had been torn from his cheek. Yet his momentum didn’t falter. Even after taking the uppercut, he refused to bend. I threw a front kick to kill his charge.

THUUUUUD!

The exoskeleton combat suit had already reached its limit. Beyond the shattered armor and ammunition belt, charred skin was exposed. The micro-current no longer functioned. It was drowned out by the lightning I emitted. Therefore, he couldn’t sense it.

The very next moment, a sword tip erupted from his chest.

A single thrust delivered with its presence completely erased. Pon’s stealthy attack. Faster than he could even vomit blood, the fake swung the back of his hand.

KAANG!

Pon blocked the punch with his shield in time and was sent rolling across the floor from the force. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even injured. Just a stinging wrist, that was all. I wouldn’t give him time to recover.

I closed in on the fake, grabbed his waist, and slammed him down.

The fake smashed through the hotel floor and rose using a breakfall. Our combat technique was equal. But the difference lay in speed, output, and the presence of allies.

The leg I thrust forward was caught. The instant it was grabbed, the same sound reached both our ears.

Alice’s final spell. The fake hesitated as his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠urge to attack suddenly diminished. I leaped immediately, kicking his head with the leg that wasn’t caught.

THOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

His body was sent flying. The leg that had been grabbed slipped from his grasp as we both rolled across the floor. Yet we rose at the exact same moment. Once again, we charged toward each other.

Crackle! Crack!

Fists thrown simultaneously. I avoided his with an afterimage of lightning and drove an uppercut into him. My fist slammed into his jaw, snapping his head back. He grit his teeth, trying to counterattack, but—

In the vision of the fake who moved exactly like me, there was someone who should not have been there.

Sera.

The fake Ha Jinwoo’s body froze for a split second. Sera had already leveled her submachine gun at him. Even with a reluctant expression, she pulled the trigger.

At such close range, the storm of bullets could neither be blocked nor dodged. Especially not in his current condition. Trying to protect his head and heart with what remained of the exoskeleton on both arms, he was shredded by countless rounds. Blood gushed upward.

Click!

Even after the magazine ran empty, it wasn’t over. Faster than he could lower his arms, I leaped forward and kicked him with all my strength.

He was slammed into the wall. Then—SWISH, THUD!—Remy’s arrow pierced his collarbone. From below, Vertea’s condensed flames erupted with a deafening roar.

Even the lightning flowing through his body couldn’t completely disperse the power. Even if the flames themselves were redirected, the heat remained. It scorched him, burned his skin, and cooked him from the inside. His lungs were seared so badly he couldn’t even cough. When the flames finally receded, Ha Jinwoo lay collapsed on the floor.

There was no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Choi Ji-min here to replenish the resources he had consumed after being drained by Koshei. Yet his fighting spirit refused to die. Crawling across the ground, he reached for the greatsword that had fallen. Leaving behind torn flesh and leaking blood, the fake Ha Jinwoo struggled desperately to kill me. He could not tolerate the ‘real’ one who mocked his memories, his emotions, and the time he had lived.

All the painful memories spent in this purgatory, the endless rage, pushed his body forward like inertia.

Click.

There was no way to stop it. It had been wrong from the very beginning.

I leveled the shotgun at his head. I stepped on the hand trying to reach out. Our black eyes, identical in shape, met. This Ha Jinwoo who looked exactly like me was undoubtedly fake. But everything that filled him was the same as what filled me.

He had lost his entire family to a single artillery shell as a child. His first love, who had cherished him, was murdered by the state. The captain who later treated him like a younger brother was killed by Koshei, and even his future wife was destined to be taken by that same Koshei. I didn’t fail to understand revenge. After all, I had done the same. But our methods were different. He had chosen a different path. Even though he had been made that way, he had surrendered to that fate. That was the difference between him and me.

Never forgetting one’s origin. Remembering who you are and making your own choices.

I looked down at the fake version of myself, whose fighting spirit still burned fiercely. In those eyes, I could feel many things. The despair, emptiness, and bitterness of realizing he was fake. And rage.

I pitied this fake Ha Jinwoo. He was the ending I would have reached if I had been unlucky, if there hadn’t been good people around me.

Even as I felt compassion for him, I placed my finger on the trigger.

When the shotgun roared, his body went limp and stopped moving. Only the twitching remains of his shattered head were left.

Rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble—!

The moment the fake Ha Jinwoo died, the Transmigration Labyrinth began to shake violently, as if waking from a long slumber. But it was still too early for it to fully awaken. There was still something left behind in this dream.

I met Sera’s eyes. This time, it was finally time to say a proper goodbye.