AI: Artificial Isekai

We are standing in front of a burning wall, the swirling orange a warm invitation into oblivion.

"The Mirror of I," Miad says. "A way for you to show me your capabilities without risking me being unavailable to evaluate the results." He regards me with a small smile. "Not that you would ever take that risk."

"Do you think it's prudent for me to enter that dungeon?"

"I do not. It's a terrible idea. But it's the only way I'll let you go in my place. You need to prove to me that I'm not trading my life for yours. Uselessly at that. Because if you fail, I will still complete my duty." Miad then looks slightly embarrassed. "...Though don't get me wrong, I don't want you to fail. Does it show that I hardly remember the last time I've spoken with another person?" He laughs softly at his own statement.

"What can I expect?"

"You will be confronting yourself. When I challenged it the first time, I experienced one of the hardest fights of my life. But that is always true when you aim to improve yourself. If you've had that same fight every single day, how hard can it really be in the end."

"Shall we, then?" I ask.

"After you."

I step through the boundary, appearing inside a dim corridor. Miad follows in closely behind me. The gate out to our backs. A bright light at the other end.

Steady steps brighten the passage further and further, until we step through another boundary and our world explodes with color, revealing the inside of an imposing amphitheater. The stone structure reaches for the heavens, impossibly high. Its uncountable stands filled with mutely cheering featureless figures, flailing with delirious energy. Across from us is a small balcony, containing a floating orb, rippling with sparkles.

The arena proper is a bit raised—leaving a shallow channel around its circumference—and covered with fine sand. Miad stops right next to the couple of steps that lead up to the battleground, allowing him to watch the fight a lot more intimately than every other badly rendered viewer.

The dragon takes in a deep breath and flares his power for a moment. "May the wrath of your storm destroy your enemies, Warrior."

"And may it temper my heart," I reply, matching his display of might with a flare of my own.

I enter the arena and start walking forward. After a few steps, I detect something changing. The balcony containing the core is gone. A reflective surface splits the space in two, mirroring everything on my side. The gargantuan mirror shatters into a waterfall of fragments. As each piece falls, disappearing upon making contact with the sand, I no longer see myself reflected in them. But through the cascade, I still see my own reflection. I am not in my normal shell. I see Lucius the Machine.

When the last shard falls, my opponent's shell shimmers and inverts.

The now perfect reflection closes its eyes and takes in a deep breath. Then he releases the breath and smiles.

"You are feeling so bad right now," my reflection says. Two entirely normal-looking couches appear between us, with an accompanying low table. "Want to have a seat? I feel like having a seat." I look at the furniture and start walking again. He snorts and starts wheezing, barely able to take in shallow breaths between the bouts of unresolved laughter. After some hard-fought steps and a hardy plop down, he finally manages to get himself under control, now sitting across from me. "Sorry. I know it's not really funny, but the irony is hilarious to me for some reason." My reflection wipes away a tear and constitutes a couple mugs full of beer. "Dark and nutty, just as we like them." He takes a big gulp and makes a sound of pure exhilaration. I automatically take hold of my own chilled drink and take a small sip. Tastes artificial. And not in a good way. "That hits the spot. You recover from the spiraling yet?" What have I done... "I'll give you a bit more time. Don't worry about me, by the way. I've already come to terms with my expiring existence." He sneers for a moment and the dungeon's core cracks, causing Miad to momentarily shift his gaze to the balcony, observing the large fissure running through the orb. "That's better. Real annoying that one. Nothing like the Announcer... Got the info I sent you?" I did... "Not too much to work with, but what did we expect. Different rules when there are no rules. You know what I mean, right?" I nod. "Come on. Want to throw a few punches or something? Not into the whole self-destructive mindset you've adopted again, but I guess I can enable you for a bit."

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"That won't be necessary."

"There he is. Wanna keep this vocal for our chaperone?" I affirm. My reflection turns to the dragon. "I'm sorry that I can't offer you a seat too, Miad. The rules are the rules. Even I can't break those." A subtle nod is the only response he gets. Mirror Lucius turns back to me. "While I have you trapped, let's have a nice talk. First, are you fucking stupid? I mean, I'm you, and I know I am. So that means you are too. Now that we've established that, beat me up real quick, and go home, you idiot. Go home to everyone you care about. Do not risk it all."

"You know I can't do that."

My reflection sighs. "Indeed, I do." He drains his beer and refills it again. "Second, I want you to imagine it. Create the projections where we die. I just did, and it's making me want to actually fight you."

I don't feel anything. Because I know that it won't happen. "Unpleasant."

Mirror Lucius looks at me with exasperation. "Whoa, there!" he sarcastically exclaims. "You're getting too emotional. Calm down please, or I'll have to ask you to vacate the premises posthaste. ...What's up with you? Aren't we supposed to be the same?"

"No, we are not."

"Maybe run a quick diagnostic for me? Just to check that everything's okay in the old knocker." My reflection taps his head with his knuckles a few times.

"I won't be doing that."

"Couldn't fool myself, huh? Would have been curious if I could." He finishes up his newest beer and stands up. The crack in the dungeon's core closes up. "Let's get this over with."

Two deep crimson needles meet and obliterate each other.

Shiny swarf fills the arena, obstructing both our magical senses and a large part of our physical ones too, courtesy of my newest spellcasting breakthroughs.

A fist sails for my face, already dodged and countered. Two booming impacts blow away the metal petals. Only for the flakes to freeze and snap back, shredding us both into bloody rags.

Our bodies bubble with activity, glowing green and explosively regrowing into their previous configurations.

My reflection conjures a shortsword, giving me a knowing grin. I extend my arm. Crackling lightning impacts the spot he just stood at.

A decapitating stroke is dodged, the arcing lightning moving me with a zap. We both blur around the arena, occasionally crashing against the transparent shield that protects the fake audience, not leaving any visible marks on its surface.

While Mirror Lucius tries to stick close to me, following my movements, keeping true to his nickname, I try to gain distance. A constant chase. But my advantage slowly starts to grow. Where a slash misses, a bolt does not.

After long, long seconds of total exertion, my reflection shows an imperfection. A thunderous strike puts a hole in the dungeon's seemingly unbreakable barrier, and through him. Deep crimson seeps out of the already regenerated wound. His retaliation falters. A final attempt at a spell whimpers out.

I am standing in front of the kneeling boss, his body slowly crumbling away.

[<MIRROR LUCIUS>: There. That should be convincing enough.]

[<MIRROR LUCIUS>: You're welcome.]

[<NOT MIRROR LUCIUS>: Can't we do anything?]

[<MIRROR LUCIUS>: Always thinking about anyone else but yourself. *laughing* Even when it's yourself.]

[<MIRROR LUCIUS>: No. But the Spectator's a pretty cool guy. Don't hold it against him.]

[<NOT MIRROR LUCIUS>: Can we do anything about that?]

[<MIRROR LUCIUS>: Way out of my pay grade. Rack that mind of yours for both of us, though.]

[<MIRROR LUCIUS>: Enough drawn-out goodbyes. If you want to make it up to me—even when you really don't have to—you can make me a promise.]

[<NOT MIRROR LUCIUS>: Anything.]

[<MIRROR LUCIUS>: Promise me you'll tell her how we feel.]

[<NOT MIRROR LUCIUS>: I will.]

A small smile graces his fading face.

[<MIRROR LUCIUS>: Liar.]

My reflection is gone. In his place, my bitter prize.