Adrian's breath came in sharp, controlled bursts as he steadied himself. The mist puppets didn't relent. Instead, they advanced again, their movements eerily synchronized, their faceless visages locked onto him.
'It's as if they are copying me.'
The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Their stances, their footwork, even the way they angled their swords, it was all his style. They weren't just mindless constructs; they were reflections of his own combat instincts, honed from years of training and battle.
That changed the whole game. It meant they would anticipate his moves. He was uncertain about how they were able to mimic his sword moves, but couldn't afford to dwell too much on the issue.
It wasn't all bad news, though. He thought to himself while preparing for the next bout.
If they were truly mirrors of himself, then perhaps he could anticipate them as well.
