No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

The door sealed behind him with a whisper.

No sound followed. No mana hum. No magical pulse.

Just silence.

Damien Bloodbane stepped forward into the darkness, his steps quiet, deliberate. The room felt... aware. Like he was being watched from every angle by something that wasn't there.

There were no torches. No windows.

No light.

And then, two of his own voices sounded and echoed within the room.

"I/You could have saved them."

He froze.

The words came from behind him, but when he turned, there was no one there.

"But I/you didn't. I/You watched."

The voice was distorted. His, but older. Sharper. Bitter. As if another version of him was speaking through a cracked mirror.

A single glyph on the floor pulsed beneath his foot. Pale gold. Then violet.

A strange surge of mana entered his body and caused his emotions to ripple unnaturally.

He stepped back to avoid the glow, but it was too late.

Anger, regret and pain, the seeds of which were dormant in his heart previously, suddenly bloomed.

"I/You think I'm/you're in control. I/You think staying quiet makes me/you mysterious. Clever."

The voices were closer now.

Every word felt like a needle beneath his skin.

"But we both know the truth. I'm/You're not being clever. I'm/You're hiding."

The silence roared.

Damien Bloodbane's fingers curled into fists and tried to suppress his emotions.

But they were too strong!

"If that's the case… Then bring it on!" Damien Bloodbane narrowed his eyes in determination and allowed his emotions to burst forth from within his heart.

The moment he did so, the room responded.

The glyph beneath him flared powerfully.

It was no longer gold and violet, but a deep, burning crimson. Like blood soaked in light.

The ground shifted.

The silence shattered.

And then they appeared.

Shadows tore themselves from the corners of the room, rising and curling upward into shapes. Figures. Faces. Memories.

They stepped into the dim glow one by one, each cloaked in the same silhouette: Damien Bloodbane himself. But different.

One wore bloodstained armor, teeth bared, eyes wild.

Another stood tall in a velvet coat, smiling coldly, regal and cruel.

A third knelt at the center of the room, drenched in shadow, clutching a broken sword, whispering words only he could hear.

And all of them spoke at once, voices overlapping, fragmented, yet unified.

"We are everything you might become."

"Every path you rejected."

"Every version you were too afraid to let out."

The air cracked with pressure. Damien Bloodbane staggered, not from pain—but from raw emotional overload.

The mana chamber had dragged out feelings he hadn't touched in years. Emotions he kept under lock and key.

The guilt.

Of failing his Grandfather. Of killing his clan members.

The fury.

At the very same people. They who disowned him and even tried to kill him.

The fear.

Of dying without knowing where his parents were. And for what purpose was he born into this world.

"You could have destroyed them all," hissed the echo in bloodstained armor, stepping forward. "You can destroy them now… Imagine the Bloodbane Estate… Overrun by your Undead Minions. Your revenge would be sated. Fully Sated! But you didn't."

Damien Bloodbane didn't respond.

"And why didn't you?" sneered the one in velvet. "Because you think morality will save you? That control makes you strong?"

"It makes you weak."

The kneeling figure whispered, "You couldn't even cry for her, could you? Jesslyn Bloodbane. Your own blood kin whom you murdered. The hope of the clan."

Damien Bloodbane's fists clenched tighter. The emotion burned in his chest—searing and cold at the same time.

"You couldn't even cry for your parents. You know that deep down, they are probably already dead. Dead!"

He couldn't breathe for a moment.

His voice, when it came, was quiet. Hoarse.

"I didn't cry because I had to keep moving."

The air twisted.

The shadows didn't like that answer.

"Liar."

They charged.

All three echoes moved at once, no delay, no restraint.

Damien Bloodbane spun to face them, drawing on his mana instinctively.

The first strike came from the left.

Bloodstained Damien lunged with a brutal downward punch. Damien Bloodbane caught the blow, redirected it, and stepped aside just in time to avoid a backhand from the velvet version.

But the third, the kneeling one, didn't attack physically.

It screamed.

A psychic blast of grief and helplessness rippled out, cracking Damien's balance. His legs trembled for just a second, and the other two closed in like wolves.

He was forced on the defensive.

Every strike was fast. His speed. His timing. His precision. It was like fighting reflections in a hall of warped mirrors.

He blocked. Evaded. But he couldn't breathe.

Each movement carried memories.

Each blow landed with emotion.

One uppercut was the anger from the ambush by Jesslyn and Rick.

One sweep-kick was the guilt of indirectly causing his clan members to die due to his worthlessness.

One mana blast was a flash of himself, alone on a rooftop, asking sky why he was so weak… A sky that never answered back.

And through it all, they mocked him.

"You're holding back even now."

"You're afraid of what could happen if you use everything."

"You are a coward who is not brave enough to use the gift that has been given to you!"

Damien Bloodbane's feet dug into the floor. Mana flared around him, wild and ragged.

He looked up slowly.

His eyes were bloodshot. His knuckles bruised. His mind screaming.

But his voice?

Calm.

Dead calm.

"You think I don't know?"

The echoes paused.

"I know what I am. I know what I could become."

He raised his hands. Light and shadow swirled at his fingertips, his emotions now flowing through his mana instead of disrupting it.

"I know what I've done."

The bloodstained version roared and lunged again, but Damien Bloodbane didn't dodge this time.

He met the attack head-on, fist to fist and broke the echo's arm.

It screamed as it unraveled into dust.

The velvet one stepped back, surprised.

"You're not stronger than us," it hissed.

"No," Damien Bloodbane said. "I'm not."

He blurred forward.

Kicked the velvet version in the chest, mana-enhanced, shattering its form like glass.

"I'm me."

The kneeling echo stood slowly, face calm, and finally raised its weapon.

But Damien Bloodbane was already there.

He stopped the blade with his palm.

Met his own hollow eyes.

And whispered, "And I accept you."

The echo blinked.

Then smiled... Just once.

And disintegrated into a gentle swirl of silver mist.