Riko barely had a chance to be surprised at the perfect imitation of his face before the thing moved. There was no lag, no weird pause as in the previous versions that had been left unfinished. The fake Riko attacked with a sort of prescience that approached prophecy—like it could anticipate Riko's every move before he even made it.
The real Riko prepared, raising his arms in a purely instinctual motion, but the fake's timing was impeccable. The crash wasn't like being impacted by a beast or a monster. It was like being impacted by himself--by someone who understood exactly which way he was positioned, exactly which breath he was taking, exactly which vulnerability lay in the center of his balance. They crashed into the floating platform, and pieces of their data flew out in tiny sparks of light.
The force of the impact shook Riko's bones.
FAKE RIKO pushed him back with the tackle. And this tackle was accomplished with impeccable technique—much like Riko's best efforts but honed, honed, honed. It was almost as if the recording of the fight had been afterwards processed by a fanatical editor.
The two slid along the glitching platform, the hum vibrating beneath them. Riko managed to wrestle it around for a split second, planting his foot and attempting to shove the imitation away, but the duplicate had no lag, same strength, same method, or even better.
When Riko attempted the knee strike to the ribs on the fake, the copy responded with the same action simultaneously.
Their kneesto collided with a horrible impact.
Pain coursed through Riko's legs.
The imitation didn't even blink.
It simply tilted its head—a motion as if analyzing the amount of pain Riko felt, weighing it like data.
Riko jabbed a punch at its jaw, quick and precise. The Fake Riko mimicked the same motion. Their fists met in mid-air, crashing in a shockwave of smashed knuckles that rippled out, cracks of lightning illuminating the platform. Data nodes hovering around them wobbled, rearranging as if the world itself had glitched at the notion of these two equivalent forces acting simultaneously.
Riko clenched his teeth.
'Stop copying me!
The creature did not respond verbally—at least, not at first. It only rearranged its mouth to form a lopsided grin, just like Riko's when he was pretending not to be afraid. The familiar smile on an alien body sent a shiver down his spine.
However, it was not accomplished.
Fake Riko withdrew its fist once again—and it was the same angle, same strength, same everything—and punched again. Riko automatically replicated the punch and the fists clashed, but this time the fake was expecting the counterreaction. It twisted its wrist a split second before this happened, putting Riko's defense out of whack.
There was a brief gap in Riko's stance.
"Fake" Riko could go for it immediately.
Its palm shot out, punching Riko right in the chest with a strength beyond what Riko himself could muster. For one moment, Riko saw the awful truth:
It wasn't only copying him.
"It was improving him."
"
He kicked backwards, falling off the platform—but just as he did, the fake appeared behind him, its arms extending to grab him from behind, throwing him back down to the ground. The copy didn't have to teleport. It just figured out where he was falling and was faster than he was able to think.
The platform lurched.
Riko gasped, wind knocked from his lungs.
He managed to roll out of the way just in time as the heel of Fake Riko made contact where his head had been, shattering the ground beneath, causing a ripple effect among the hovering structures below. It did not act on brute instinct. It acted on calculation, on mathematics. Each motion utilized precisely the right amount of strength.
Riko stumbled up, gasping for breath.
It mimicked the man by standing up in the same position.
Riko made a U-Turn.
It changed too.
Riko's body shook in terror. "This
"Fake Riko took one step forward—it was his specialty, the step he always made in an attempt to look confident, even if he wasn't. It was weird seeing this happen in something that shouldn't know the first thing about confidence or fear."
Riko attempted to resist the mimicry.
He quickly moved to the left
The imposter MATCHED HIM.
He feinted to the
The fake matched him perfectly, again.
Riko suddenly jumped backward, attempting to create distance.
But Fake Riko didn't follow.
It simply stopped copying.
It was motionless.
Viewing.
Studying
Its head was tilted, as if its animation loop was glitched. One moment left, one moment right, over and over, too fluidly to be natural. The Riko-face was fully loaded, its stare curious, as if it was a predator sizing up a trick.
Riko's heart was pounding
If it wasn't copying anymore…
"That meant something worse:",
It didn't need to.
The creature struck first this time.
In a distorted flash of speed, Fake Riko charged in, quicker than before, his arm cocked back to deliver another mirror punch. Riko lifted his guard to adjust his position differently, but the clone changed its swing trajectory mid-movement to counter the new position instantly.
Their fists met again, once more, once more, a shockwave.
"This one was even larger."
As she
The whole platform buckled outwards, the edges rippling with the motion of a stone tossed into still water. Blocks surrounding them broke into a cloud of dust. Riko slipped back, her heels dragging across the surface.
The spoof skidded as well, doing the motion flawlessly.
But then—
Fake Riko smiled.
No mocking smile.
Not a monstrous snarl.
It smiled like Riko smiled before doing something stupid, light and confident, just the tiniest bit reckless.
That frightened Riko almost as much as the punches.
He charged again, this time intent on disrupting this rhythm and swung quickly with a right hook. Fake Riko reacted a split second earlier than Riko swung. This wasn't copying; this was prediction.
Riko followed with a knee strike.
Fake Riko parried it effortlessly.
He tried an elbow.
"The fake ducked before Riko even started swinging."
Despite knowing the wrong
"Seriously?! " Riko growled between panting. "You're me! How are you beating me
"Fake Riko" finally spoke.
The technology was Modeling Riko's exact voice—every tone, syllable, and intonation.
But the warmth of humans that lay behind this act didn't remain, only the disturbing imitation.
"It said:
"Level… up
Riko's breathing hitched
Not because of the words.
But because the creature had spoken these words with a perfect, chilling blend of innocence and curiosity—as if it didn't even understand the words it was saying, but wanted it.
The real Riko backed away automatically.
The creature moved forward.
He stepped right.
"The creature matched."
He attempted to make a sharp left turn—to the point where it's downright unnatural for him to do so, a direction in which he's never turned during a
Fake Riko followed immediately.
"Oh, come on!" Riko shouted.
But the creature wasn't finished.
Before Riko could think of what he wanted to do next, the copy attacked again with terrifying speed. It didn't wait, it didn't think, it simply moved as if it had already run all the simulations in preparation for this fight and already knew the results.
Its movements became sharper.
Cleaner.
Much more nuanced than any style Riko had ever learned.
The real Riko attempted to block, but the clone just predicted the block andcountered the angle to avoid it. The arms crossed for a brief moment before the clone, Fake Riko, twisted and hooked its leg through Riko's, sending him to the ground.
Riko rolled, barely escaping a pounding stomp.
He sat up, puffing and blowing.
Faker Riko mirrored him again—but this time there was a faint, chilling joy in his expression, as if he took pleasure in the act of imitation.
Riko launched a reckless, unpredictable attack—one that was a punch, a kick, a swift changeover to a move he had never made before.
Fake Riko didn't replicate that combination.
It bettered it. It followed the same routine, but faster, cleaner, covering all the holes Riko hadn't realized he'd left. The fake's punch met Riko's fist for the umpteenth time. acctbt A massive shockwave of a concussive nature swept across the platform. Riko was caught off guard and staggered backward gasping. The clone did not budge. "Then It leaned in. Close to Riko's face. Its mouth stretched into an exact replica of the smile Riko would make when he pretended everything was all right, even on the days he would end up blacking out in PE class. This grin did not look right on a face that lacked soul. "The smile widened, too precise, too controlled." Fake Riko has the same smile as Riko.