A Peacock Husband of Five Princesses by day, a Noble Assassin by Night

A perfect replica, dressed in the same dark assassin’s attire he wore when carrying out his duties. The same lean figure, the same posture, but there was something wrong about it. The air around the clone shimmered with a deep, almost oppressive energy—the primordial dark energy that had been whispering to him.

The clone’s eyes locked onto his. There was no recognition in them, only cold calculation, as though it was created solely for the purpose of this moment. Without warning, it surged forward, its body enveloped in that same dark power, charging straight at him.

Kael barely had time to react. Before he even properly rose to his feet, the force of the blow struck him like a freight train, sending him crashing backward.

Pain exploded through his chest as he was blasted against the stone wall.

"Ugh."

Groaning, Kael pushed himself up, hands scraping against the cold stone floor for support.

Blood dripped from a fresh cut across his chest, but the pain was more a reminder than a hindrance, heightening his concentration to the peak. The clone stood a few feet away, silent and menacing. It held two daggers, one in each hand, the weapons gleaming with dark intent.

Kael mumbled, breath ragged. "A trial indeed..."

He summoned his own daggers in response, the familiar weight of them comforting in his grip. Without further hesitation, he charged.

The clone moved with unsettling precision.

Kael’s blades clashed with the blades held by the clone, sparks flying from the impact, but Kael’s face looked grim at their first proper exchange. "This..."

Kael’s movements were fast, but he found that the clone was faster.

It was like facing a mirror of himself—every move he made was countered before it could even land. They were locked in a deadly dance, each strike followed by another.

The fight went on for a few minutes, and Kael only felt like he was being overpowered by the opponent.

The clone’s daggers cut through the air, striking him with relentless precision.

Kael was once sent flying backward, crashing to the floor with a brutal force. His breath was knocked out of him, and he groaned in pain as he tried to push himself up. "Ugh… this fuc*ing piece of sh*t."

Had it been any other opponent, Kael wouldn’t have felt so bitter, but it was his own clone beating him with his own moves, as if the clone was say that he could never defeat it no matter what kind of trick he brings out.

It was then the whisper once again followed.

The sword, its voice as cold as the shadows surrounding them, echoed in his mind once again.

"Despite the fact that you hold the primordial darkness," it intoned, "if you cannot defeat yourself, you are not worthy to attain me."

The words stung, but they also stirred something inside Kael. He tightened his grip over the daggers as he spoke. "The battle was far from over."

Kael stood, his fists clenched at his sides.

The clone’s unwavering gaze never left him, its body poised, ready to strike again.

Kael’s body ached, blood trickling down his side, but he wasn’t going to back down. He could feel his strength growing, his mind sharpened by the fight.

But no matter what he did, the clone seemed to be an equal match—always blocking, always countering.

"I need to find out its limitations." Kael thought, charging forward. The clone responded with a charge, their daggers clashed each other, and Kael pushed back again.

They fought for what felt like hours. Kael’s body was bruised, bloodied, and battered, but still, he pressed on.

*Ting* Ting* Ting*

Each clash of their daggers echoed through the chamber. The sword’s whispers continued to harass him every time he was beaten down.

The spectral wolf and the black cat—his companions—remained still in his mindscape, unable to intervene as their master doesn’t let them out. It became less than getting completing the trial and became more about his keeping his ego.

Kael’s breaths were shallow now, his body heavy with fatigue. He closed his eyes, momentarily shutting out the world. "Fuu..." He took deep breaths, his his mind rewounding the entire battle, analyzing every movement, every strike, every counter. "I need something to break through him. Just what are its limitations that I failed to see. Think Kael… think. It won’t attack when I stand still and doesn’t show any signs of movement. That’s one thing to be noted. Secondly, it didn’t have any new moves that I wasn’t aware of. It countered the moves in a way I would if same moves aimed at me, although it had a better precision."

As the memories of the past few hours replayed over and over again, clarity washed over him. While it felt like it was always faster than him, in reality, he was the one getting slower due to a loss of stamina over time.

The clone seemed like it had an inexhaustible amount of energy, but in fact, its speed, its reflexes, its attack strength—they had remained constant.

"This..." His eyes abruptly opened in realization.

That realization was like a spark igniting within him.

"Instead of trying to focus on overpowering the clone with strength and unnecessarily use more techniques and feed it to the clone, I need to become faster—faster than I had ever been before."

While he might have found a solution, it is not an easy task either.

Taking a deep breath, Kael brought out all of his mana reserves left in his body and concentrated on his only arms and legs.

"I only had one shot, and I needed to put everything into it."

Gazing at the clone, Kael then pushed off the ground, surging forward. He moved like a blur, darting around the clone, each step faster than the last. The air around him seemed to distort as his speed increased until he was no longer just one Kael—he was five.

It was his famous Mirage technique, which takes impossible amounts of stamina that he would grow considerably weak once he performed the task.

As the clone stood in its head, glancing at the mirages that seemed all real because they were. It’s like Kael was standing in its five directions at the same time.

However, Kael didn’t attack. He redirected the mana that enveloped his left arm towards his legs, taking the speed into the next level.

Using every fiber of muscle in his legs, Kael tried to push his limits, increasing the mirages.

Five became six, six became seven, and finally, seven became eight.

Eight mirages surrounded the clone, all of them charging at it.

The clone spun around as he would in case multiple enemies attacked him, its daggers cutting through the air as it tried to keep up.

It summoned the same dark energy from before, twisting it into a mini tornado of force to block the incoming strikes. Kael’s mirages vanished in an instant, but as they did, something else vanished as well.

Kael himself.

The clone looked around, its eyes scanning the empty air.

In that split second, Kael turned off his invisibility, appearing right behind the clone.

He moved in silence, his daggers held in reverse grips, ready for the final blow. With a single motion, he slashed across the clone’s neck in a precise, cross-shaped cut.

The clone’s form flickered for a moment—then vanished completely.

The room was still.

Kael stood there, chest heaving with exertion.

*Thud*

He almost collapsed as fatigue took over him, one of his knees resting on the floor. His breaths became heavier, and sweat poured down from his face like raindrops, his entire body drenching in sweat.

"You passed the trial. You are qualified to hold my power." The sword glowed as the whisper flew into his ear.

Gathering his strength, Kael slowly walked to it.

His hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, its presence tugging at him with a magnetic force. The whispers in the room grew louder, more insistent, praising him in voices that felt almost... hungry.

"Excellent warrior," the sword purred. "Now pull me out, O fated one. Release me and claim my power."

A strange sensation washed over Kael, as though the very essence of the sword was intertwining with his own.

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Without hesitation, he yanked the blade free from the stone.

The action was effortless, almost too easy, but as the sword came loose, a ripple of energy spread throughout the chamber, like the air itself was responding to the release.

Before Kael could process what had just occurred, a form materialized in front of him.

It was a man—no, a spirit.

His form was ageless, his appearance that of an old man with long, flowing white hair and a radiant, almost blinding aura that seemed to radiate wisdom and power.

The man’s eyes locked onto Kael, and he spoke with a voice that resonated deep in Kael’s chest. "I am Zurin, the creator of this tower," the figure introduced himself.