[Notification]
Congratulations! Your Eldritch Nightmare title has evolved.Title Name: Eldritch Sovereign of the Shattered Self
Description [Identification Lvl.10]:
Title’s Bestowed Enhancements:
[Notification]Congratulations! You've Acquired a New Ability.
Ability Name: Vhorak’thul, the Shattered Self
Ability Type: Eldritch Summon / Vessel
Effect: Allows you to create an independent clone or vessel of yourself, capable of wielding your power with devastating precision.
Description [Identification Lvl. 10]:
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The world was silent and empty, with only two exceptions, the sight of those notifications and the echoing disbelief in his voice.
"How?!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock as my form just began to take shape, yet already, I was laughing maniacally at the farce.
Particles of energy that had once been scattered into oblivion started to coalesce, drifting together with purpose and intent. At the heart of this swirling maelstrom of power, a form began to take shape, form. Wisps of ethereal substance twisted and spun, weaving into the contours of my body. Layer by layer, my physical manifestation was painstakingly reconstructed, from the bones forming anew beneath what would be skin, to the flicker of life reigniting in my eyes.
As I solidified, hovering in midair, my laughter broke the silence, maniacal and triumphant.
"Hahaha, you didn't expect me to die so easily, did you? Too bad, I'm back," I taunted. "From oblivion."
"How is this possible!" His voice cracked under the strain of disbelief, his body tensing as he prepared to launch another assault. But as his hands raised, charged with the beginnings of another deadly elemental attack, a dawning realization seemed to halt him. If an attack as monumental as the last was futile, what hope did any further aggression hold?
"How?!" he asked again, the anguish palpable in his strained tone.
It wasn't merely that I had survived; that much he might have begrudgingly anticipated, otherwise, he would have used both sigil and all his reserves to end me then and there. In his mind's eye, he had likely envisioned me shrinking the Obsidial Tree I manifested around us, using it as a shield to absorb the brunt of his attack. It made sense. It would have been the logical defensive maneuver, using the sigil to create a barrier robust enough to withstand, or at least mitigate, the impact. That would have left me in a state where I would conventionally be unable to use the sigil to undo the damage I sustain next.
So either I used the Obsidial Tree as a barrier, and he destroyed it, or at the very least, greatly damaged it, or I didn’t use my sigil as a barrier and just took that attack head-on, which would undoubtedly have killed me. Definitely.
A foolproof strategy. One that would have worked, no doubt, if I played under the parameters he believed I played.
The stark reality that faced him now must be a very bitter one to swallow: after his massive expenditure of energy, which had, in the end, amounted to nothing more than a spectacular but ultimately ineffective display, my unscathed form was standing as resilient as ever, mocking the futility of his efforts.
My smile only broadened in response.
"How, you ask?" I said, standing atop my spiritual sword, my voice laced with mocking sweetness. I spread my arms, reveling in the sight. "Simple, really," I said, reaching up to the crown hovering above my head.
"I am no monarch."
