The Lone Wanderer

Percy hammered the flat slab of steel absentmindedly, thinning it further with each strike. It wasn’t until it looked about to break that he remembered he was supposed to fold it again. Only after doing so did he dip it into a trough filled with water to quench it, before applying another layer of clay mud and moving it into the furnace. That said, the fate of the knife wasn’t exactly at the forefront of his mind right now.

‘The clone died, didn’t he? I died.’

Percy didn’t fully understand what his latest clone had experienced, as he’d only brought back a few scattered memories. The knowledge of how to heal his soul more efficiently was by far the clearest, followed by his promise to some girl to look for her in the future.

As for the details of what had gone down between the two, he didn’t really remember them. He had a faint idea that their friendship had started off on the wrong foot, before evolving to something more earnest by the time they parted ways. But he didn’t really know how or why that happened, nor how he was meant to find her again.

‘There was also something more…’

He did recall he was supposed to injure his soul in a specific manner to lure some soul-based entity into his body. Next, he had to break it down and absorb it into his soul to obtain some kind of benefit. Percy didn’t remember what exactly that benefit was, but the details of how to go about it were clear enough. Of course, the whole process seemed dangerous, but his clone had clearly deemed this to be a memory worth preserving.

‘Maybe it has something to do with finding the girl...’

In any case, Percy would give it a shot, but only after he practiced with the healing art a little. It was best to know how to fix himself in case something went wrong. And he’d also try looking for his new acquaintance during his future trips. Though, none of that was particularly urgent right now.

What bothered him a whole lot more, were the implications of this recent adventure on himself. And he wasn’t thinking about the injury per se. He was confident it would heal in a couple of weeks at the latest. But that wouldn’t bring the dead version of him back to life – it would merely replace him.

Just because his bloodline allowed his clones to survive and operate on their own for some time, it didn’t mean they were immortal or invulnerable. They were ultimately nothing more than fragile chunks of his soul. The only reason none of them had been lost or destroyed before now was due to how rare soul affinities were. He’d never met any mage or creature capable of interacting with his souls before now. Well, other than Metatron. But this was bound to happen eventually.

‘What if it were me in the clone’s shoes?’

The result would have obviously been the same. After all, Percy and his clones were the same person, with the same personality. Naturally, he would have made the exact same choices, ultimately sacrificing himself to benefit his main body. So, he would have ended up dead too.

Was it worth it?

The only real difference between him and the clones was the size of their soul. They were the same person until the very moment the bloodline activated, at which point the biggest portion remained in his body, while the smaller one ended up flying out. Percy had never really had to deal with this issue before, because all his clones had made it back – other than the one he’d shoved into his familiar. And that one, he’d sacrificed to save his friend, not for his own sake.

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Evidently, this wasn’t always going to be the case, however. Moving forward, he’d probably be forced to make the same choice again. A choice between self-preservation or sacrificing himself for the original’s benefit.

‘Can I do it again, knowing what it means? Or should I, even?’

At the end of the day, Percy had to decide what was most important for him. His goal had always been to reach the pinnacle of magic – to grow as strong as he could. To aim for divinity, and beyond. But would it even matter if some other Percy achieved that goal, should he himself perish?

It all boiled down to one simple question.

‘Who am I?’

Was there only one Percy – the original? Or did all his clones have the right to live too? Should they all strive towards a common goal – to elevate their joint existence to the highest level? Or should they put themselves’ first?

It didn’t matter much when they could safely return to Remior. Whenever that happened, they would simply fuse back into the original, sharing the same fate. But the choice wouldn’t always be this easy.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

“I think the steel is ready for the next round of tempering.” Nesha said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Only now did Percy realize the bar was already red-hot. Placing it back on the anvil, he continued the forging process. Having removed most of the impurities, he began to consciously flatten it into the shape of a kitchen knife this time. Obviously, the townsfolk didn’t need any fancy katanas. Percy had been forced to adapt Sengo’s teachings to some more useful everyday tools to make a living here.

A couple hours later, Percy sharpened the knife’s edge with a whetstone. His lack of experience in tandem with the subpar tools at his disposal did knock the quality of his crafts down a notch. Adding the fact that he hadn’t given it his all today, and the knife he currently held wasn’t exactly his finest work. An untrained eye might have missed it, but it was a little rough around the edges. It was slightly wider in the middle than it was supposed to be, the wavy patterns on the blade not quite as clear as usual. Percy couldn’t help but click his tongue in annoyance.

“It’s fine. It’s still better than what people here are used to.” Nesha consoled him.

She was playing with some space mana in her hands, trying to get a bit better at shaping it how she wanted. Naturally, she hadn’t missed Percy’s irritation.

“It’s not that.” he said. “Do you think my clone was a fool to do this?”

While he couldn’t be certain, Percy guessed his clone had brought this grim fate upon himself, because of multiple risky choices. And he’d already brought Nesha up to speed on the topic.

“I don’t know. I’m probably not the best person to ask, as I’ve never put any external goal above my well-being. Even working towards my revenge is something I only do when I can. I guess it all boils down to what you value the most.”

Nodding, Percy placed the knife on the floor, before washing himself outside with some water. Next, he went to bed early, Nesha’s words still echoing in his mind. While his companion was more than a little eccentric – and oftentimes lazy – she was by no means stupid.

It was true that he’d never really had to choose between his life or his goal. After all, the two were normally inextricably linked. He couldn’t become a god if he was dead, could he?

‘Except, it turns out I can…’

Then, he shook his head.

‘Maybe I’m thinking about this all wrong. What if taking a few risks with my clones is the only way to stand a chance?’

The odds were already stacked heavily against him. Even with the Aurora Dew and his two cores, he’d only live long enough to reach Blue. He still wasn’t even close to Violet or White, let alone godhood. Metatron had made it clear he doubted it was even possible. Could Percy afford to play it safe, and still hope to succeed?

‘Probably not.’

Doing his best to ensure each of his clones made it back was a given. They weren’t disposable tools to discard at will. Each of them was him. At the same time, he didn’t have the luxury of preserving all of them. Many would die again, if any part of him was to ever become a god. Remembering back to the time he’d first practiced his soul affinity on that goblin, all those years ago, his thoughts now rang in his mind once more, truer than ever.

‘A soul affinity, huh? Clearly not meant for the faint of heart.’

At the time, his thoughts had been shallower. He’d only considered the pain he had to endure when using his bloodline. As it turned out, that was the easy bit. Whether it was the tragic fates of the dying people he met during his travels, or the difficult choices he’d have to make, his affinity continued to prove itself brutal at every turn.

In the end, it didn’t matter who he currently was, nor who his clones were. Whichever side he found himself on, Percy had to give it his all, in service of the person he wished to one day become…