In another realm of endless white, Grimbold stood utterly lost. Like Sera, he had managed to enter his soul scape, but he found himself completely adrift—Grimjaw hadn't bothered to explain how they could claim their spiritual gifts. The endless void stretched before him like a canvas of pure nothingness, broken only by the echo of his own breathing.
The young ogre decided to walk, his heavy footsteps muffled by the strange, ethereal ground beneath him. As he moved forward, a creeping realization began to dawn on him—despite his steady pace, everything around him remained unchanged. The white expanse was identical in every direction, creating the maddening illusion that he was trapped in place, walking eternally without progress.
"Oh... the weakling has finally decided to grace us with his presence," a voice dripped with venom from somewhere behind him.
Grimbold's blood turned to ice. He spun around, scanning the empty space frantically until his eyes locked onto a figure that made his heart skip a beat. Standing mere meters away was himself—or rather, a perfect replica of himself. The clone's lips curved into a cruel smirk that Grimbold had never seen on his own face, yet it felt disturbingly familiar.
"Impossible!" The word tore from his throat as shock crashed over him like a tidal wave.
The doppelganger began to advance with predatory grace, that malicious smile never wavering. "So you've come here seeking power?" Its voice was his own, yet twisted with malice. "Leave now. You don't deserve this gift. What good would power be to someone as pathetically weak as you?"
Grimbold's mind reeled. Weak? He had never considered himself weak—not entirely. Sure, Sera had mentioned once that at base strength, without enhancements, Grimbold was the weaker of the two. But he had fought alongside Sera through countless adventures, and while he despised violence, he had never fled from a battle when it came to him.
"Your clan was destroyed," the clone continued, its words like poisoned daggers. "Reduced to nothing but ash and memory. On that same blood-soaked day, you lost your father and uncle—both slaughtered by Sera's father. And yet..." The clone's laugh was hollow, bitter. "You still call their son your friend. You even begged to become his retainer. You are weak, and I am everything you're not. You bring me nothing but shame, and you don't deserve to exist."
The words hit harder than any physical blow ever could. Before Grimbold could process the emotional devastation, his clone launched forward like a coiled spring released, fist loaded with deadly intent.
Grimbold's survival instincts kicked in just in time. He threw both hands up, absorbing the impact of the punch and pushing back with all his strength. The clone leaped backward, effortlessly avoiding Grimbold's counterattack.
"I thought I was the weak one," Grimbold called out, finding his voice despite the turmoil. "So why do you run?"
The clone's face contorted with rage at the taunt. It planted its feet firmly and raised both hands skyward. "Terra Form!"
Reality shattered around them like glass. The sterile white void exploded into a rugged mountain landscape, complete with jagged peaks and treacherous terrain. The clone's hands glowed with earthen power as massive boulders tore themselves from the mountainside, hovering menacingly in the air like suspended threats.
With a violent thrust of its arms, the clone sent the projectiles hurtling toward Grimbold. The young ogre's world became a nightmare of dodging and weaving, rolling left and right as death rained from above. Boulders crashed where he had stood moments before, sending up clouds of dust and debris. Just when he thought he had found safe ground, the earth beneath his feet would betray him, erupting upward to throw him off balance.
Minutes felt like hours as Grimbold was systematically beaten down. His clothes were torn, his body bruised and bleeding. Each attempt to close the distance resulted in another barrage that drove him back. Finally, battered and exhausted, he collapsed to his knees.
"I really am weak," he whispered to himself, staring at his bloodied hands. "If I can't even handle this clone—a mere projection of my own existence."
The clone stood over him with that same mocking grin, its expression clearly saying I told you so. But in that moment of despair, a thought flickered to life in Grimbold's mind.
Wait... it looks exactly like me in every way except for that earth power. His eyes widened with sudden understanding. Does this mean I also have this ability?
As if responding to his realization, his form began to glow with the same earthen energy. Grimbold raised his trembling hand, focusing on the image of the boulders his clone had wielded.
The mountain groaned in response. Cracks spider-webbed across the ground as the earth obeyed his will, sending massive stones floating into the air around him.
"Finally figured it out, did you?" The clone's voice carried grudging respect. "Took you long enough. I would have been disappointed if you didn't even manage to fight back. But understanding this power and mastering it are two different things. Until you defeat me, it will never truly be yours."
Grimbold rose to his feet, power coursing through his veins like liquid fire. Without a word, he launched his arsenal of floating boulders at his doppelganger.
"You talk too much for a clone, you know that?" he called out as the projectiles flew.
The insult struck home. The clone's face twisted with fury as it summoned its own barrage to counter. Rock met rock in explosive collisions that shook the very mountain. They fought with identical techniques, each attack met with its perfect counter, neither gaining ground.
Thirty minutes of brutal combat left Grimbold gasping for breath. Now he understood why Grimjaw had been so insistent about building their stamina—battles in the soul scape could stretch on indefinitely.
Then he remembered something Sera had taught him about an unusual fighting style. If you can utilize your legs during battle, you'll catch enemies off guard. Most muscular fighters rely on their fists—no one expects the kicks.
I think he called it 'Capoeira.'
Grimbold suddenly went still. The clone noticed the shift in the air immediately and sent a volley of earth spikes racing toward him. But instead of dodging, Grimbold crouched low, coiling his powerful legs like springs.
In the next instant, he exploded forward with impossible speed, seeming to glide across the earth itself. The clone's eyes widened in shock—for the first time since their battle began, it turned and ran.
But Grimbold was faster now. As he closed the gap, he swept his leg in a wide arc, taking the clone's feet from under it. His opponent crashed to the ground, and Grimbold leaped high into the air, his leg raised like an executioner's axe.
Time seemed suspended as he hung in the air, power building in his limbs. When he brought his heel down on the fallen clone, the impact didn't just crack the ground—it obliterated it. The entire mountaintop exploded in a shower of earth and stone, his mastery of the element surpassing even his darker reflection.
The clone began to dissolve into particles of golden light, each mote being absorbed into Grimbold's being. With its final breath, it spoke a single word: "Well done."
A single tear traced down Grimbold's cheek. Despite his victory, the words his clone had spoken still cut deep. He and Nokka had accepted Sera and the Crimson clan, harboring no resentment, but the loneliness remained—a hollow ache that Sarion's fatherly love had helped but not entirely healed.
"If accepting the way things are makes me weak," he whispered to the fading soul scape, "then so be it. I am weak."
The white void began to dissolve around him like morning mist. Grimbold opened his eyes to find himself back in the real world, where Sera was locked in heated argument with Grimjaw.
"I said I will not be your disciple! Leave me be!"
"But why?" Grimjaw replied with obvious disappointment, his eyes gleaming with dark excitement. "Your soul gift fits my preferences perfectly. Think of all the people you could hack and slash!"
Grimbold shook his head, watching the one he had accepted as family with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. A smile tugged at his lips as he spoke softly to himself.
"I really am weak."
But for the first time, those words didn't feel like a curse—they felt like acceptance.