The dim tunnels echoed with nothing but the low hum of their footsteps. The three of them—Noct, Ellen, and Mia—moved silently through the labyrinth, the ever-tightening air signaling how close they were to the final layer.
Their bodies ached, their supplies ran low, but they pressed on. Something about their silence was heavier now—more personal. After all they'd faced, it wasn't just survival anymore. It was trust forged through fire.
They finally settled in the remnants of a collapsed chamber. The ruin bore signs of a former rest station—broken bunkers, skeletal food crates, and a barely working light crystal embedded in the wall.
As they sat, Mia was the first to speak. Her eyes, so sharp and deadly in battle, now held a flicker of something vulnerable.
"You want to know who we really are?"she asked, more to the room than to Noct.
Noct looked up from cleaning his blade. He didn't nod, but the silence between them answered.
"We were raised in the Slums of Sector 9," Mia began. "Leftovers from the war zones. Most kids didn't make it past ten."
Ellen's gaze fell to her knees. "But we did. Because we were good at one thing—killing."
They shared the story—how they were taken in by a rogue militia that trained children as assassins. How Ellen became the precision killer, quiet and calculating, while Mia was forged into a chaotic storm of fury and brutality.
But they rebelled. Fled. Burned their past to the ground and swore never to be tools again.
"We made a vow," Ellen said softly. "To never let anyone chain us again. That's why we became Venators. To hunt monsters... and stay free."
Noct didn't speak for a long while. But his eyes met theirs—and in that wordless moment, something settled between the three of them.
Not just trust.
Bond.
They finally reached the last stair.
The entrance to the bottom floor of the labyrinth stood before them, carved into black stone like the mouth of an ancient god. Unnaturally still air blew from within.
They stepped into a chamber of perfect symmetry—pillars mirrored pillars, walls reflected each other. And at the center stood a lone figure.
It was faceless. Smooth. Humanoid in structure, but plated in a seamless alloy unknown to any forge.
And as Noct stepped forward, it moved.
"Target data acquired," a deep mechanical voice echoed. "Noct Valen. Ellen Tyen. Mia Tyen. Accessing... past, present, and latent futures."
The golem's body shifted. A sword identical to Noct's appeared in its hand—position, grip, weight—perfect. Then two more blades formed: one heavy like Mia's daggers, the other slender like Ellen's sword.
[Designation: The Imitator.]
It stepped forward, each movement horrifyingly precise. For every technique they prepared, it mirrored them. But faster. Cleaner. Sharper.
Noct dashed forward with a Vector Strike, but the golem bent its arm at the same angle and redirected it perfectly—before returning the exact attack with amplified force.
Mia's Rushbreaker Combo was countered with a mirror version, only faster. Ellen's evasive sequence was disrupted before it even finished.
It didn't just fight like them. It fought like the best version of them—versions they hadn't even reached yet.
"It's copying us…" Noct growled, sliding back, his ather flaring. "But it knows more than what we've shown."
"It's using moves I've never even pulled off yet," Ellen spat. "How the hell—?"
Ellen's eyes narrowed. "It's not just imitation. It's evolution."
The Imitator stepped forward again.
"You are but shadows of what you might become. I am your reflection perfected."
Noct's hand burned with light as glowing numbers began to spin in the air.
"Then let's see if it can copy what hasn't been calculated yet."