Floor 2 Joint Trial (5)

Boom-!!

It happened in the blink of an eye. With the deafening roar of an explosion, the twisted 'me'—limbs contorted—snapped its body mid-air like a cannonball and hurtled forward.

"!!"

A shock like something detonating at the side of my head hit me, and my consciousness cut out in an instant.

When I opened my eyes again, my body had been yanked from Aorum Bidan's grasp and slammed into the wall.

A message floated before my eyes. One eyeball was soaked in blood, stabbing like a needle. I fought to steady my red-tinted vision and dizzy mind, turning toward the platform. The body of Aorum Bidan—once beautiful like glowing silk—was literally exploded.

Joint Trial...

The ordeal every climber faced regardless of difficulty. I'd been too complacent. The reality hit hard: my first real battle, and I could be murdered here by this unknown 'me'.

Just enduring that one attack had burned through about 10% of my energy. I glared, eyes wide. The 'me' still handstanding—body inverted—stared back.

Hiss— Its body glowed red-hot, faint steam leaking out.

Vitality Amplification...? Druid's Metabolism? What the hell?

Powers I hadn't even known I had, due to lack of time. It copied my abilities and constitution perfectly... and wielded them far better than the original.

"Hah—"

Of course, my arsenal wasn't limited to that. The air shimmered, and another twisted 'me' spawned.

"Clone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Crea—"

The moment I uttered the skill, blood vessels burst in my eyes, and a revolting pain—like rubbing my brain in a plastic bag—surged. I vomited.

"Urk—!!"

Unbearable, even if I tried. Like seeing something so physiologically repulsive—a corpse—that no human could stomach. My head reeled, an intense fatigue washing over me like dipping in sticky fog. Vitality Amplification and Druid's Metabolism kicked in desperately... but a car-crash impact sent my body flying through the air.

Like when massive shock blanks the mind—you don't know what hit you. My view showed the audience chamber from above. And at the edge of my vision: another handstanding 'me' where I'd been.

Another attack slipped through in that split-second gap.

Can I survive? Escape? Win?

Too many brutal hits before I could even engage properly. Sensing defeat, I racked my brain for survival as another clone appeared above my airborne body. Its muscles unnaturally bulged, invisible energy gathering in its fist.

That'll kill me.

The clone—body twisted—awkwardly swung a fist to finish me, posture sloppy. I gripped my dazed mind and countered the cannonball punch aimed at my skull.

-Boom!

An unbelievable explosion from fist clashing fist, shockwave repelling both bodies.

"Ha—."

A numb ache shot through my wrist bones. Enhanced reflexes from Meditation let me finally grin at the clone's body in my sight.

"You bastards... can't copy engravings, huh?"

Its hand crushed, wrist snapped with bone protruding. A twisted 'me' smashed headfirst into the wall, gushing blood.

The engraving from my first Floor 1 Trial reward. So old and unremarkable, I'd forgotten it existed.

"Hup!"

Like the first time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with Meditation, time crawled. I rocketed toward the 'me' clone at terrifying speed.

The handstanding one twisted its body awkwardly—legs meant to support now flailing clumsily. It swung a leg... but...

"Sloppy."

No combat experience in life, yet it mirrored my own clumsiness. The energy-laced punch shattered its leg; the follow-up crushed its skull, one eyeball popping out.

Clear death.

At the edge of my grimacing vision, another twisted human flew in—limbs grotesquely bent. It had over-flexed for a leap from handstand. Energy-charged limbs whipped like flails with vicious cracks... but no real power behind them.

Their forms instilled psychological terror, but warped bodies weren't combat-ready. Intense pain stabbed my gut and head, nearly blacking me out. I bit my lips until they bled, regaining sanity.

Just two attacks endured, and energy plummeted.

I sucked every last drop of Meditation's energy into my right arm. Muscles contracted and swelled repeatedly, like dozens of hands brutally squeezing it. Agony as if every vessel would burst—and as the 'me' closed in...

".........!!"

Another 'me' widened its eyes in shock, energy surging not to its fist but its gut—like bracing to tank it.

That's your mistake.

-!!!!

Screeeee—

"........"

Sticky, warm liquid trickled from somewhere on my head. It stung my eyes; wiping it revealed a blood-soaked palm. I wished it was groundwater... but no, blood.

...Where's the bastard?

I hauled up my trembling legs. Constitutions supplying energy and aiding healing circulated the alien power frantically; the near-death dizziness eased fast.

"Dead."

Not just dead. A 'me' with only shoulder, neck, and left arm attached was pinned to the wall; other parts had exploded with a boom, painting the cavern horrific red.

"Clones... no good."

Not in the skill book, but usage limited by condition/state. Trying to resummon right after death brought centrifuge-like vertigo and unbearable nausea.

"...Bidan?"

Coou—k—

"You're okay...!"

Bidan's revival cooldown shorter than clones'. Relief dropped me to the floor. Body wrecked, blood loss extreme. Multiple direct head hits. Honestly... I couldn't walk out upright.

Steps staggered like sleep-deprived; any laxity meant blacking out and collapsing. Lucky Aorum Bidan appeared. True to its Floor 1 hidden lifeform status, it emerged unscathed—unbelievable after being torn by the monster doppelganger.

"Carry me."

Coou—k—

It cradled me in response, slowly exiting the space.

"There it is. Grab that too."

I retrieved the lost Ancient Language Dictionary and the passed-out Chinese guy from the fight. Time to really leave. Hated this place now.

"System... you there?"

Near-death broke my spirit. Especially to some monstrous violence, not peaceful.

So I called out. Half-hoping for Floor 1's safe zone warp.

Yeah, no dice. Got it. Joint Trials were made to kill rice-eaters like me. Floor 1 sent to another world; not now.

Riding Bidan to the surface, thoughts raced.

What to do?

Wanted treatment, protection. But blood-soaked? They'd pry endlessly.

"Hah. Just go."

Not crazy enough to camp alone injured, hiding identity.

Pried? Interrogated nicely with this Chinese guy. 'Ran into monster in cave'—what could they do?

But—my dilemma resolved too easily.

"KyaAAAAAHHH-!!"

"Fuck! This side's breached—help!!"

"Everyone, command... calm down and listen!"

Dong-dong-dong-dong-!!!

Surface already chaos.

"Ugh, fuck."

Thousands handstanding, joints snapping impossibly, mimicking humans... no, things. More repulsive than giant cockroaches, dancing through darkness at insane speeds.

Scalp fused to neck, underside facing down—blood splattered with every bound, filling peaceful woods with metallic reek and red glow. Sticky, hot iron clogged nostrils, lungs, dazing the head.

"U-URAAAGH!! What the hell are those Red Guard bastards!! This is a nightmare!"

"Red Guards won't catch you. Too fucking dumb."

Then, the Chinese guy slung at my side woke screaming, clutching head in disbelief.

Understood his freakout. Cold sweat soaked my back too.

Village swarmed by hundreds to thousands of handstanding doppelgangers—asshole clenched instinctively.

Thud—

"Gah!"

Dumped the deadweight, reverse-summoned Bidan. Shit—Meditation first. Constitutions boosted base stats, but not Yeopo-level bravado into that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠monster horde.

"All injured, this way!!"

Yoon Hye-yeon yelled, sweat-drenched. Hid Ancient Language Dictionary nearby, headed over. Her eyes bulged.

"W-What... we looked everywhere since you vanished... how'd you get that messed up?!"

"Monster ambush."

Omitted proudly killing it. She grabbed me tight, shoved into patient-packed building.

"Think you can block somehow? Don't—rest. Resting helps."

I knew. Handstanding 'us' pouring blood. Psychologically terrifying, but objectively shitty fighters. How fight handstanding? Can't grip weapons with feet. Just twisted-joint launches like before.

"This way. Bandages at least—thanks."

Urgency clear—no glance at my gore, pointed corner.

Inside: blood-soaked masses, stuffy blood-stink, pain groans—like post-war hospital. Leaf-bed litters everywhere. Non-combatants wrapped cloth on bleeding bodies. No bandages—torn spare clothes, sloppy.

Pinked my finger on mystery pink leggings—pressure released easy. Rushed job. Sweat-smell too. Won't infect more? No complaints.

Dozens gasping agony, volunteers dashing—no demanding VIP care. I was low-priority light wound amid graves.

Sighed inwardly... softly called Bidan.

"Bidan... appear under my bed."

Coou—k—

Familiar deflate from underground.

Clone Creation

Tensed for vomit—mild dizziness after rest. Closed eyes, focused: clone spawned in Bidan's underground body.

Impromptu—why work? New use thrilled me briefly; main eyes drooped—

"Bidan. Back to where we surfaced."

Awoke in clone consciousness inside Bidan's swimming body. Fresh clone: healthy, unscathed. 4-star skill ignored conditions.

Rode smart Bidan to Ancient Language Dictionary hide, retrieved relic, loosened up. Hat, scarf from unknown twisted climber/doppel. Deep cap, scarf as mask.

Main body's stillness recharged Meditation.

"Wait—behind you!!"

Three distant guys pointed, yelling. Turned: twisted doppelganger flew, sharp weapon raised.

Injected energy—brain-rub disgust, world slowed. Dynamic vision +2%. Reflex punch -1%.

Crack-!

Monster's face caved fist-shaped. Onlookers—rushing to warn—froze baffled.

Deliver Ancient Language Dictionary to Grace first—then clean this assault.