The darkening sky cast long shadows across the city as Raiden, Rei, and Hiro approached Kage's house that Friday evening. Unlike their usual training sessions, Kage had summoned them with unusual urgency, his message cryptic yet commanding. The setting sun painted the clouds in shades of crimson and gold, nature's beauty a stark contrast to the tension building within the three young heroes.

  Rei's stomach knotted with apprehension. Every session with Kage pushed boundaries—physical, ethical, mental—and today's summons carried an ominous weight. What new trial awaited them?

  The grand mansion loomed before them, its pristine exterior hiding whatever brutal lesson Kage had planned. Security systems were subtly integrated into the architecture, almost invisible but ever-present—much like the danger that seemed to follow Rei lately.

  The massive front doors swung open before they could knock, revealing Sebastian, Kage's ever-composed butler. His immaculate uniform showed not a single wrinkle, his posture perfect as he greeted them with a formal bow.

  "Welcome back, young Rei, and esteemed guests. Master Kage is waiting for you at his training quarters. I shall walk you there personally," Sebastian said, his refined accent adding an extra layer of formality to his words.

  Rei followed without hesitation, his expression neutral despite the unease churning within him. Raiden and Hiro exchanged wide-eyed glances at the sheer opulence of Kage's home. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, priceless artwork adorned the walls, and exotic materials made up the furniture. For someone who presented himself with such casual arrogance, Kage's living space was surprisingly refined and elegant.

  Hiro, overwhelmed by the grandeur, twitched as if itching to lick every polished surface in sight. His gills fluttered with excitement, webbed fingers reaching toward a particularly ornate vase.

  "Calm down, mutt," Raiden muttered, pulling Hiro back by the collar before he could embarrass himself or, worse, break something undoubtedly worth more than their combined future earnings.

  They arrived at the training quarters after passing through a series of hallways and descending several flights of stairs. The space was filled with state-of-the-art lifting and cardio equipment, each machine looking both expensive and barely used. Yet, they walked past it all, following Sebastian through a hidden passageway leading to an enormous, empty chamber.

  Sebastian gestured around the vast space with a practiced sweep of his arm. "This room is equipped with dimension-shifting technology. It can recreate any environment—desert, forest, even a bustling cityscape."

  As he exited, the lights flickered, and the room shifted into a half-burned cityscape, filled with smoke, fire, and reckless, ghostly cars. The transformation was seamless, the simulated environment appearing so real that Rei could feel the heat from the digital flames and smell the acrid tang of smoke.

  Footsteps echoed as Kage and his mistress, Katie, approached them. Kage wore his usual designer outfit, complete with Cartier shades despite being indoors, while Katie was dressed in a sleek, form-fitting ensemble that suggested both style and functionality.

  "Welcome, nerds, to our fight simulator," Kage announced, smirking. "Vessel, you remember Katie? She's the one that can clone."

  Katie shot Rei a sarcastic smile. "Hello again, brat."

  Kage cracked his knuckles, the sound unnaturally loud in the simulated environment. "Today's lesson is simple. Katie will use her Concept, Duplicate, to create clones of you three. As you fought, I only saw glimpses of killer instinct between you. You need to know what it feels like to kill—so your objective is to kill your own clones."

  The brutally direct assignment hung in the air. This wasn't standard Academy training—this was something darker, more pragmatic, focusing on an aspect of heroism that the institution typically glossed over.

  "Just so you know," Katie added, flicking her wrist dismissively, "these clones have defined limits. They can't fight autonomously like you can, and they can't use concepts to their full potential. They only have as much mana as I put into them during creation." She tossed her hair back with practiced indifference. "So don't get cocky if you win. You're fighting watered-down versions of yourselves."

  Hiro's eyes widened, his usually carefree demeanor momentarily replaced by genuine discomfort. The casual way Kage said it sent a chill down his spine. Killing had never crossed his mind before, but Kage wasn't joking.

  Katie smirked, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "I can duplicate anyone using their and my DNA. The easiest way is to weave a strand of their hair into mine." She flipped her hair dramatically, the movement practiced and precise. "Of course, Kage will owe me for ruining my luscious locks."

  Kage grinned, rubbing his hands through his buzzcut. "I'll make it up to you, don't worry. Now, hand over a strand, you three."

  Raiden, Hiro, and Rei plucked strands of their hair and handed them to Katie. She carefully pulled out a bag of her own strands and began weaving them together with practiced dexterity, the process appearing part scientific method, part arcane ritual.

  Raiden's clone formed first, materializing from nothing in a shimmer of light. The duplicate was perfect—from the lightning dancing across its skin to the blind eyes that somehow still tracked movement through electromagnetic fields.

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  Raiden stared at his mirror image, a strange sensation washing over him. The clone returned his blind stare, electricity crackling between them like a silent conversation. This was more than just a test of combat skills—this was symbolic. To become stronger, to truly earn the Fujiwara name, he would need to destroy his former self.

  The weak Raiden must die for the strong one to emerge, he thought, feeling his resolve harden. His clan had cast him out, labeled him worthless—but they would see. They would all see what he could become.

  Then Hiro's clone formed. The axolotl-headed duplicate materialized next, complete with fluttering gills and the same vacant expression that somehow masked surprising intelligence.

  But when Katie tried to create Rei's duplicate, something went wrong.

  The hair strands twisted together, began to glow, then simply fizzled out.

  "Hmm, that's weird," Katie muttered, examining the failed product with professional curiosity. "I can't duplicate you. Ugh, maybe it was a bad strand."

  She tried again, plucking fresh strands from both her head and Rei's. Another dud. The strands refused to merge, as if they were fundamentally incompatible on a molecular level.

  Katie frowned, genuine confusion replacing her usual confidence. "Okay, what the hell?"

  Kage's eyes narrowed behind his shades, his mind working through the implications. He studied Rei more intently now, pieces of a puzzle beginning to fall into place.

  "Duplicating someone requires DNA, which is tied to their soul," Kage murmured, more to himself than the others. "This brat... his eyes change depending on emotions. But is that truly it?" He paused, stroking his chin. "No, those eyes are linked to something even greater. There are entities within him—separate consciousnesses, perhaps. Which would explain why Katie can't create a single duplicate. Fascinating..."

  Breaking the tension, Kage shrugged. "Enough shenanigans. Here, use my hair instead. Give the brat something to kill."

  With that, Katie created a clone of Kage, and the group dispersed as their clones began roaming the burning city simulation, taking positions among the ruins as if preparing for combat.

  Kage snapped his fingers. "Begin."

  Raiden wasted no time. His body crackled with electricity as he lunged at his clone, calculating the most efficient approach. Lightning arced between them as they clashed, two storms colliding in midair. The duplicate matched his moves perfectly, countering each attack with equal speed and precision.

  Raiden changed tactics, feinting with a frontal assault before dropping low and sweeping his clone's legs. As the duplicate began to fall, Raiden drove a lightning-charged fist directly through its chest, obliterating it with a single devastating punch.

  Blood—warm and viscous despite its artificial nature—coated his hand. Raiden stared at the crimson liquid dripping between his fingers, mesmerized. The sheer thrill of destruction sent a surge of exhilaration through him, followed immediately by discomfort at his own reaction.

  This is what it means to be a Fujiwara, he thought grimly. To destroy weakness wherever it's found—even within myself. His fingers twitched, his breath shallow. So this is what it feels like? The thought lingered. A strange fusion of power and remorse filled him. It wasn't real... but why did he feel like it was? Why did he enjoy it? He glanced down at his hands, flexing them as electricity danced between his fingers. Was this the path of a true Fujiwara?

  Meanwhile, Hiro hesitantly engaged his clone with the weakest punches Kage had ever seen. The axolotl-boy seemed genuinely distressed at the idea of harming even a copy of himself, his usual enthusiasm completely absent.

  "It's like he has noodle arms," Kage groaned, watching Hiro flail ineffectively. "How the hell did this idiot pass the exam?"

  To make matters worse, Hiro's clone licked him.

  In response, Hiro licked back.

  Kage turned away in disgust, deciding that some battles weren't worth observing.

  His attention landed on Rei, who stood frozen, staring at his Kage clone. The smug look on the clone's face mirrored the real Kage's perpetual disappointment, creating an unsettling hall-of-mirrors effect.

  But there was something else too—something that triggered a deeper memory. The clone's stance, the way it loomed over him with calculated menace... it mirrored Kage's posture during their first confrontation at the Academy, when Kage had stepped on his shadow and Rei had experienced true fear for the first time.

  "What the hell are you doing, brat?" Kage called out. "Kill the clone. That's the closest you'll ever get to killing me."

  Rei clenched his fists, his mind conflicted. A faint memory surfaced—Baku's death. He hadn't directly caused it, but the guilt had lingered. Was he truly capable of killing? His stomach twisted at the thought.

  I've never actually killed anyone, he realized. Baku died by accident. My body moved, but it wasn't me in control.

  He stared at the Kage clone, which smirked back with infuriating arrogance. Could he cross that line? Should he? Was this really necessary to become stronger?

  Rei lunged forward, fist raised—but at the last second, he stopped his punch.

  Something inside him recoiled at the act of killing, even a simulation. It felt wrong. Yet part of him—the part that remembered being powerless, feared, beaten down—wanted to experience it. Wanted to know what it meant to hold someone's life in his hands, to make the choice to end it.

  Kage was suddenly in front of him, his voice dropping into a cold, serious tone that contained none of his usual theatrical arrogance. "Listen here, brat. Assassins don't hesitate. Earlier this week, you were a target, and now you're in here fucking around. Kill the damn target. You may not realize it yet, but the underworld has already taken an interest in you."

  He released his firm grasp on Rei's shoulder, stepping back to give him space.

  Rei exhaled sharply. He thought of Haikito. He thought of Kage. They were both expecting him to get stronger. And strength, in their world, meant being able to do what was necessary—no matter how unpleasant.

  With sudden resolve, Rei lunged at the Kage clone, kneeing it in the face with enough force to snap its head back. The clone staggered, attempting to retaliate with a shadow tendril, but Rei caught its arm and violently dislocated the shoulder. The crack of breaking bone echoed through the simulation.

  The clone screamed in agony, the sound disturbingly authentic. It clutched at its useless arm, backing away, but Rei wasn't done.

  Gripping the clone's mouth with both hands, he began prying its jaw open, forcing it apart until the bone snapped. As the clone reeled in agony, Rei delivered the final blow—his fist driving straight through its chest, shattering the duplicate into nothingness.

  Panting heavily, Rei stared at his bloodied hands. The warmth of artificial blood felt too real, too immediate. His stomach lurched, but he fought down the nausea. Is this what Kage wanted? Is this who he needed to become?

  The answer was unclear, but one thing was certain—something had changed within him. A line had been crossed, and there was no going back.

  Kage, watching with wide eyes, rubbed his own jaw. "Damn, that kid is passive-aggressive."

  The implications weren't lost on him. Rei hadn't just killed the clone—he'd done it in the most brutal way possible, targeting vulnerabilities that seemed specifically designed to cause pain rather than simply eliminate a threat. It was the kind of killing that sent a message.

  Perhaps the Vessel was learning after all.