The clone was eerily similar to Grievous. That beautiful, sharp black hair, those wheat-like skin tones, those eyes that looked like shining jewels perched atop that slender, sharp nose. An exact replica in every detail. And with just a blink of his consciousness, the clone began to move as he willed, as if it were nothing more than an extension of himself, like a hand or a leg.
Grievous finally understood why this spell was so unpopular with many, despite its terrifying power. It demanded the person's consciousness to be strong, fast, and at a high rank, controlling two bodies instead of one.
The edge of Grievous' mouth quirked up into a slight smile.
"There is no perfect spell. Everything has a price, huh."
He leaned back slightly, watching the clone's fluid movements as it began weaving shadows into intricate forms.
"But that doesn't apply to me. My consciousness is extremely fast and powerful, so that's not a problem at all. It's really cheating."
He chuckled softly.
"If the great magicians knew this, maybe they would torture me to find out why my consciousness is so strong. Fortunately, I am careful. Otherwise, I might have been on someone's torture table already."
Grievous knew the world beyond his secluded training chamber was brutal. If he really wanted to, he could have ventured out and explored it as soon as he arrived here. But he was painfully aware of his weaknesses. Facing real danger, he would not survive.
The dangers were twofold. There were the monsters and wild beasts that prowled the untamed wilderness, creatures hungry for prey, their instincts sharpened by the harshness of the wild. But even more perilous were the magicians themselves.
Magicians in the wild fought without supervision or accountability. Their battles were ruthless, driven by greed and survival. They fought over resources, weapons, magical artifacts, and even knowledge in the form of spells. The world was difficult, and outside the protective walls of the cities, life was a constant struggle, even for magicians.
If a person was below the third rank, venturing out was nearly impossible. The threats were too great, the odds stacked against the weak.
But Grievous did not need to venture out himself.
All he needed were his pieces to explore the world, to bring back resources, spells, and items of importance. He could rely on his clones for that. He would only appear in person on very special occasions when his presence was absolutely necessary.
He watched as his clone cast spells quickly, moving with great speed and strength. It had half the spiritual and physical energy of its caster, who was of the second rank. That meant the clone was already as strong as a late second rank in Grievous' case.
It was easy for Grievous to split his consciousness and control the clone. So he calmly sat on the ground, folding his legs beneath him, and lost himself in thought as the clone continued its dance of shadows, casting a Shadow Ring spell, then Shadow Arrows, and more shadow element spells.
All the spells the clone tried were rank two, as that was its limit. But for Grievous, this was perfect. He could think carefully and experiment with spells simultaneously.
'To increase comprehension of a magic element, the magician must use magic repeatedly and extensively,' he thought. 'And also analyze higher ranks of spells. This means, in short, that practice and study are the required paths to increase elemental comprehension. By my current understanding, I am still in the beginner stage.'
The ranks of elemental comprehension were divided into six levels: Beginner, Master, Grandmaster, Great Grandmaster, Supreme Grandmaster, and finally Sage.
The greater the comprehension and understanding of magical mathematics, the easier it became to create new spells for that element.
Grievous let his mind drift deeper into the mechanics of magic.
He pictured the magical equations and calculations in his head, the delicate balance of energies, the flow of spiritual currents, the precise movements needed to weave shadows into weapons or shields.
Each spell was a complex symphony of forces, and mastery required more than just power, it demanded finesse, patience, and insight.
His clone's Shadow Ring glowed faintly, a perfect circle of black mist, shimmering with an otherworldly light. Then came the Shadow Arrows, sleek and lethal, streaking through the air with a silent hiss.
He felt a surge of satisfaction.
The clone's movements were fluid and precise, a reflection of his own growing skill.
'If I can perfect this control over multiple bodies, my reach will be unmatched.'
The thought gave him a flicker of excitement.
He pictured sending out a dozen clones at once, each exploring a different corner of the world, gathering information, resources, and secrets.
He imagined the possibilities, the rapid expansion of his knowledge, the accumulation of power without ever exposing himself to danger.
Yet beneath his calm exterior, a small voice whispered a warning.
'But what if controlling so many fragments of yourself stretches your consciousness too thin? What if one day you lose control?'
Grievous shook the thought away.
He had trained his mind relentlessly, pushing the boundaries of his mental strength.
He was confident he could handle it.
The soft rustle of leaves outside reminded him of the wilderness waiting beyond the walls.
He wondered about the other magicians roaming those lands, ruthless, cunning, desperate.
Would they recognize the threat he posed? Would they hunt him down if they knew?
He did not care.
His goal was clear.
Mastery of magic, unmatched power, and survival in a world that did not forgive weakness.
The clone's shadow spells began to coalesce into a dark armor, wrapping around its form like liquid night.
Grievous felt a surge of pride.
This was just the beginning.
He would grow stronger, faster, smarter.
And one day, the world would know his name.
For now, he sat quietly, watching his shadow self move through its training, the flickering shadows dancing like silent flames.
He was both mentor and master, puppeteer and warrior.
Grievous sat alone in the dim silence of his chamber, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the walls. His mind churned relentlessly, weaving possibilities and doubts into a tangled web. The weight of his choices pressed on him, heavy and unyielding.
He could focus all of his will on one element, pouring every fragment of his attention and energy into mastering it. The thought was tempting, immense power born from singular devotion. Yet, he hesitated. Could he truly set aside the many threads of magic that already pulsed faintly within him?
His elements were numerous, like a scattered constellation. Each one glimmered with potential, but none shone with absolute clarity. The element with the highest affinity teased him with its familiarity, yet it lacked the raw strength he craved.
'Maybe I should choose the Space Element or Gluttony,' he pondered, eyes narrowing in the half-darkness. 'They are undoubtedly the strongest. Rare, powerful, and… unknown.'
His memories unfolded like ancient scrolls, revealing truths about magic that others might overlook. The Space and Gluttony Elements were whispered about in legends, yet seldom encountered in battle. Unlike the Darkness and Shadow Elements, which thrived in the hands of many magicians, these rare elements offered a veil of mystery.
Grievous relished the thought of exploiting that ignorance. Most magicians were familiar with Darkness and Shadow, their spells and properties etched into every grimoire. But Gluttony and Space? Few understood their true nature. That ignorance was a weapon.
He envisioned the battlefield, eyes gleaming with cold calculation. His foes would falter, caught off guard by the unfamiliar forces he wielded. Their confidence would shatter like glass, their defenses dismantled before they could react.
Yet, even in his confidence, Grievous knew the limits. There were those ancient monstrosities, beings with millennia of arcane knowledge, whose mastery spanned every element and secret. Against them, surprise alone would not suffice.
The magician's world was divided sharply in his mind. There were those who thirsted for understanding, who sought to unravel the mysteries of the cosmos and the fundamental laws that governed existence.
And then there were those like him, those who craved strength above all. Power was the ultimate truth, the only certainty in a universe of chaos and decay.
Grievous belonged firmly to the latter. Immortality was not a puzzle to solve but a prize to seize, a means to an end.
But suddenly, a question pierced through his relentless ambition like a shard of ice.
"What will happen after I achieve immortality?" he whispered aloud, voice barely audible.
His gaze drifted to the vacant spaces beyond the flickering flame. "What will be my purpose then? What will give meaning to endless time?"
The thought unsettled him. Immortality had always been his goal, yet now it seemed a hollow victory. If life stretched endlessly before him, what then?
Could he rule the world with an iron fist? Did he even desire dominion?
The answers eluded him, slipping through his mental grasp like shadows at dusk.
He felt suddenly small and uncertain, like a child overwhelmed by an abundance of sweets but unsure which to savor first.
The clone he had summoned flickered at his side, a faint echo of himself, waiting silently.
With a snap of his fingers, the duplicate vanished into the ether, leaving Grievous alone once more.
He stared into the void within his Mind Palace, a vast emptiness where countless possibilities coexisted.
'What do I truly want?' he wondered, heart tightening with unease.
The vastness of his potential felt like a prison, each path branching into infinite unknowns.
Power, immortality, control, were these ends, or merely stepping stones toward something deeper?
He had long buried such thoughts beneath layers of ambition and ruthless resolve.
But now, in the quiet solitude, they surfaced unbidden, demanding acknowledgment.
The candle sputtered, casting a final flicker before surrendering to darkness.
Grievous inhaled slowly, feeling the weight of endless questions pressing down.
His fingers twitched, restless, craving action yet trapped in hesitation.
He realized that mastery over elements was not just a matter of strength, but of clarity, of knowing what to pursue and why.
The rare elements called to him like sirens, promising power cloaked in mystery.
But could power alone fill the void that gnawed at his soul?
He shook his head, dispelling the doubt like a passing shadow.
There would be time enough for questions once his strength was assured.
For now, he had to choose.
To focus on one element and delve deep, or to embrace many and spread his influence wide.
Neither path was easy, but both held promise.
Grievous clenched his fists.
He would forge ahead, carving his destiny from the chaos of uncertainty.
The world, no, the Cosmos, would bend to his will, or be consumed by it.
And in that reckoning, perhaps he would find the answer he sought.