>>535792520
The clones evolved.
No longer mere copies, they became manifestations—fragments of himself given shape.
There was the Warlord, all snarling fury and bloodlust. The Madman, who laughed as he fought, unhinged and gleeful. The Soldier, hollow-eyed and resigned. And the Ghost, who only watched, silent and knowing.
They fought in cycles. The Warlord crushed the Soldier. The Madman gutted the Warlord. The Ghost stood apart, whispering:
"You’re just delaying the inevitable."
"Then what’s the alternative?" Infinite snapped. "To fade? To give up?"
The Ghost tilted its head. "Would it be so bad?"
The Warlord roared and tore the Ghost apart.
But the question lingered.
The fights grew stale.
No matter how many times Infinite ripped himself apart, the rush faded faster each time. The pain became routine. The victories hollow.
One day (if days existed), the Soldier didn’t even raise its fists.
"Fight me!" the Warlord demanded.
The Soldier shook its head. "Why?"
The Madman giggled, twirling a dagger. "Because it’s fun!"
"No," the Soldier said softly. "It’s not."
And then it let itself dissolve.
The Warlord howled in frustration, turning on the Madman, who only laughed as they tore into each other. But even their battle felt sluggish, half-hearted.
Infinite watched, a cold weight settling in his chest.
The Ghost reappeared beside him.
"You’re tired."
He didn’t deny it.
One by one, the clones vanished.
Not in defeat.
In indifference.
The Warlord’s snarl died mid-breath. The Madman’s laughter cut off abruptly. Even the Ghost gave him one last, pitying look before fading.
Infinite stood alone.
He waited for the rage to return. For the fire in his chest to reignite.
But there was nothing.
Just… exhaustion.
So he closed his eyes.
And let go.
