Under the dim blue lights, two transparent cultivation pods stood silently.
Reflecting the glow, the sight inside was enough to make any man's blood boil.
Two clones—almost identical to Sykes herself—floated naked in the nutrient solution.
They bore her nearly perfect physique: ivory-smooth skin, full and rounded peaks of snow, an astonishingly slender waist, perky hips, long jade-like legs, and delicate, exquisite feet. Their eyes were closed, their angelic faces peaceful—an image of pure serenity, utterly unlike Sykes's fierce allure, yet equally captivating.
"Perfect... a perfect creation, just like me."
Sykes caressed the cold glass of the pod, her eyes burning with feverish devotion and madness.
"Kaito... the pain you made me endure—I'll return it in the sweetest way imaginable. When you're lost in this 'tender trap' I've crafted just for you, that will be the day you fall... and become mine."
But merely having an empty shell wasn't enough.
To ensure the clone possessed absolute loyalty and could stand against someone of Kaito's caliber—while also sharing part of the Third Eye's authority for emergencies—Sykes made a decision bordering on insanity.
Soul division.
She wouldn't rely on anyone else's fragments. No, she would use her own soul to awaken and drive this perfect weapon of vengeance.
"Ah—!"
A blood-curdling scream echoed through the laboratory.
Sykes clenched her teeth, ripping her soul in half and injecting one portion—along with fragments of the Third Eye's power—into the clone.
When the agony finally subsided, she collapsed, gasping for breath.
Moments later, a weak yet triumphant smile crept across her face. Her expression twisted into near-maniacal delight as though she could already see Kaito kneeling at her feet.
"When Kaito prostrates himself before me," she whispered, "no one will be able to stop me from wiping out those inferior humans and building a new world."
A hiss filled the air as the pressure valves released.
Cold mist poured from the pod, and the nutrient fluid drained away.
Inside, the clone—a flawless mirror of Sykes—opened her eyes.
They were not Sykes's usual emerald green, but a faint violet, like starlight in a deep cosmos.
At first, confusion flickered there, the innocence of new birth. But in seconds, her gaze sharpened—calculated, cold, and aware.
She stepped out, bare feet pressing against the alloy floor, her movements wobbly at first... but steady and confident by the second stride.
Sykes didn't notice the critical mistake she had just made.
Still trembling, she forced herself upright, retrieving a sleek white robe and a metal vial of condensed liquid.
The vial contained her latest masterpiece—an enhanced, concentrated strain of Monster Cells.
"Take it," Sykes ordered. "You already know the mission—our shared memories make that clear. Target: Kaito. Success is the only option. Failure is not."
But then—something unexpected happened.
The clone accepted only the robe, slipping it on with calm elegance... and ignored the vial entirely.
Sykes's pupils shrank in disbelief.
The clone raised her violet eyes, her voice carrying the same commanding resonance as Sykes's own.
"No. Why should I execute the plan? You should go. Now."
The air froze.
Sykes's expression twisted—shock, then outrage, erupting into unbridled fury.
Her creation, her soul-born weapon, was defying her the instant it drew breath.
"You... what did you just say?!"
Her psychic energy exploded outward, flooding the lab in a violent storm. Instruments rattled and screeched under the unseen force.
"A mere clone! A tool I created! How dare you defy the will of the original?! Who gave you the courage?!"
The clone didn't flinch.
"Original? Clone? What a pitiful delusion."
A surge of light-purple psychic energy burst from her, forming a radiant barrier that clashed against Sykes's dark violet aura.
The collision detonated with deep, rumbling blasts, and the lights overhead flickered wildly.
"We share the same soul and the same Third Eye authority," the clone said coldly. "So tell me—who's really the original?"
She tilted her head slightly, a smirk curling her lips.
"Or is it that your old, overused body still clings to the fantasy that it's in control? Pathetic... and still an old maid, too."
Only someone who shared Sykes's memories could strike that deeply.
"Boom—!!!"
The words old maid detonated like a bomb in Sykes's mind, snapping the last thread of her restraint.
"You're courting death!!!"
Sykes's scream tore through the air, raw and furious.
Her dark-purple psychokinesis erupted like a supernova, twisting into countless shimmering blades that stabbed toward the Clone in a relentless storm.
She would shred this insolent creation apart—make it remember who the true master was.
The Clone only sneered. Her light-purple psychokinesis flared violently, condensing into a massive prismatic shield that deflected most of the incoming strikes with flawless precision.
At the same time, she split her power into countless psychic needles, sharp and invisible, lancing forward in retaliation.
"Touched a nerve, did I?" she taunted, her tone dripping with mockery. "Your power's nothing special! Let's see who the real original is after this!"
The two waves of psychokinetic energy collided—equal in source, equal in might.
A storm of raw psychic force exploded outward, shaking the kilometer-deep facility to its foundations.
Violent currents ripped through the lab. Priceless machinery crumbled to dust under the pressure. Thick alloy walls twisted and split open with deafening cracks, spraying molten metal and sparks across the room.
The underground base quaked, trembling as if it might collapse at any moment.
And yet—amid that hurricane of destruction—something strange happened.
Despite their mutual hatred, both combatants, driven by the same soul, unconsciously held their attacks back from one particular corner of the laboratory.
There, untouched by chaos, another cultivation pod stood in silence.
Inside floated a third clone—another perfect copy of Sykes.
A shimmering psychic barrier enveloped it, perfectly stable, co-maintained by both Sykes and her Clone without either consciously realizing it.
Even as they tried to annihilate one another, their shared instincts—their mirrored self-preservation—guided them to protect this one remaining vessel.
It was as if, somewhere deep within both their minds, the same cold calculation had emerged:
"Given how things are going, whichever 'self' survives won't risk carrying out that damned plan. The one destined for the dirty work... will naturally have to be someone else."