Ghostly Clone

"You don't have to tell me that!" shouted back Kazimir, his voice echoing defiance across the arena.

Sensing the looming danger, the knights quickly adjusted their formation. Three of them stood at the forefront, shields interlocked, while one vigilant member covered the rear. Their leader barked orders, "Do not move away from the others! We cannot bear to lose another man."

In the brutal reality of the arena, every life lost came with a heavy cost. Even if the knights emerged victorious, the loss of more comrades would diminish their chances in subsequent matches. Triumph in the arena held enticing rewards—weapons, technique manuals, gold, or the coveted opportunity to advance into the Orcish army and secure freedom.

Kazimir slid his axes back into his belt, opting for a sword and shield this time. The change in weaponry signaled a shift in his strategy. Instead of charging headlong, he advanced slowly towards the vigilant knights.

The knight leader shouted a proposition, "Give up, and we will grant you a swift death. You do not stand a chance against four knights now that you have showed us your technique."

Common knowledge held that soul warriors typically possessed only one technique after awakening, and by appearances, Kazimir seemed too young to have mastered anything more.

Arrogantly rebuking the offer, Kazimir retorted, "How about I send your head back to Radom?" The shock on the knights' faces was palpable. One of them stammered, "How do you... are you from Radom?"

"Not any longer. Now I am a gladiator in the Black Anvil Arena, just like you," replied Kazimir with a steely resolve.

"You peasant! Bow before your lords!" retorted the knight leader, his disdain evident in his tone.

"Thank you!" smiled Kazimir, a sentiment that left the perplexed knights looking at him as if he had lost his mind. "Have you lost your mind?" they questioned, puzzled by his gratitude in such a dire situation.

"I'm just happy that I did not have a chance to join your order," mocked Kazimir, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"Who would even take a peasant like you into our order?" retorted the leader, disdain evident in his voice.

"Enough chatter!" roared Seba, momentarily diverting the attention of the knights.

Capitalizing on the distraction, Kazimir seized the opportunity to showcase his second ability.

In a blink of an eye, he appeared behind the knight formation, wielding his axes with deadly intent. A swift strike targeted the lone knight at the back, not delivering a fatal blow but inflicting a painful injury. As he maneuvered, Kazimir executed a second strike, hacking at the knight's sword-holding arm from the side.

The three remaining knights realized something was amiss as a scream echoed from the side. Kazimir stood before them, seemingly immobile, holding the stolen sword and shield. Yet, a sudden shock gripped them as they witnessed another Kazimir cutting at their companion arm behind them.

The knight leader, unable to fathom the existence of two Kazimirs, launched a slashing attack at the shield. To his astonishment, Kazimir's figure blurred into nothingness, leaving the shield and sword to fall onto the arena floor.

It was revealed to be Kazimir's second technique, a variation of his initial one. Dubbed "Ghostly Clone," this ability allowed Kazimir to create an unmoving mirage of himself, serving as a deceptive tactic to confound and mislead his adversaries.

The arena audience, orcs, and spectators alike, erupted into a cacophony of cheers and gasps as they witnessed the display of the soul warrior's formidable skills.