[Skill: Shadow Clone]
[Description:]
Fuska the Face-Stealer was the weakest of his kind — a creature without pride or power. He watched as his kin perished to creatures far beneath them in form, yet far above in will and wit. Mankind, with no claws or wings, still flew and killed with tools and cunning. Fuska learned their ways. He took their faces, their knowledge, their strength — and beca their mirror. Not just a monster, but a shadow of man… made strong through imitation.
[Effect:]
Creates a temporary avatar of yourself, ford from shadow energy. You may choose how much shadow energy to invest; the clone's power, speed, and durability scale accordingly, up to a maximum of 90% of your current stats. The clone mimics all your abilities, but vanishes when its energy is spent. Only one clone can exist at a ti.
[Type:]
Active
[Cooldown:]
24hr
This was the skill Damon was using now.
His shadow clone wasn't a perfect reproduction of him—just an extension. It could only scale up to ninety percent of his actual strength, assuming he invested that much shadow energy into it.
It had access to his Shadow Storage, though it could only equip items his main body wasn't currently using—except for the Pale Crown Armor. That one was different. While the armor couldn't exist in two places at once, its enchantnts still worked through the clone.
There were limits. Dangers. If the clone was destroyed, Damon's soul would suffer backlash.
And if it simply ran out of shadow energy, it would dissolve on its own—and afterward, he wouldn't be able to summon another one for a full day.
The clone didn't gain stat boosts from combat, and anything it ate was just converted into shadow. But Damon had a theory the clone could still gain new skills.
This particular clone was created with just ten percent of his overall shadow energy—aning it was only ten percent as powerful.
Still, what annoyed him wasn't the power gap.
It was seeing from two perspectives at once.
He was used to it—Shadow Perception had long since conditioned his mind to track multiple views—but now, there were two entirely separate inputs. And one of them was weak.
So in the main ballroom, Damon deactivated his Shadow Perception.
Surrounded by nobles fawning over the Grand Duke, he was largely ignored.
Still, the Grand Duke's open attention on him was enough to make the more observant nobles take notice.
To them, he wasn't just a mysterious guest.
He was a gateway to the Grand Duke.
Fortunately, Damon didn't have to say much. Just polite greetings. That made it easier to focus on his clone—far away, deep inside the Duke's private wing.
The clone moved like a drifting shadow, burning shadow energy with every step.
That was fine. Damon didn't want it to last. He wanted it to dissolve once its mission was done.
It moved through the halls, quiet and smooth—until it reached a corridor with posted knights.
"Tch…" Damon clicked his tongue through the clone.
No way he could sneak past them.
He looked toward the window. Then jumped.
Activating Parkour, he launched onto a nearby gargoyle, then fired his Omnidirectional Gear, anchoring to a ledge on the far side of the castle.
The arc of the swing was steep—too much montum. He was going to hit hard.
But he didn't flinch.
Just before impact, he shifted into pure shadow, slipping cleanly through the outer stone and falling into the hallway beyond.
He exhaled quietly.
Footsteps.
A knight rushed over.
Damon's clone slid under a table, its shadow deepening unnaturally beneath the table.
Another knight followed.
"Is sothing wrong?"
The first one paused, hand resting on his sword. "…No. I must've imagined it."
They turned away, never noticing the unnatural pool of darkness tucked under the table.
The clone continued forward.
It had entered the Duke's wing.
Now it just had to avoid being sensed by the Duke himself.
---
In the ballroom—
Damon finally spotted his friends.
Naturally, they were surrounded too.
Evangeline and Xander, both nobles of Valtheron, were encircled by minor lords and curious nobles.
Sylvia, on the other hand, was being sward by young noblen, each one confident in their charm and looks—each one asking for a dance.
"Do these fools not know she's the daughter of the White Ruler? Or do they just not care?"
Leona, predictably, had migrated toward the food. Anyone who interrupted her got a look so cold it could stop a troll in its tracks.
As for Matia, who now known to the shadows—she stood unmoving in her black dress, still as a statue. So tried to approach, but her presence was like a thousand-year-old glacier.
Damon finally managed to slip free from the Grand Duke's circle.
He glanced at Evangeline, offering her a polite nod.
Then turned toward Sylvia—just in ti to catch the glare in her eyes.
She ignored the n around her and started walking toward him.
Every eye in the room shifted to her.
Damon sighed inwardly.
All I wanted was for her to pretend to talk to so I could focus on my clone...
But it seed Sylvia had her own plans.
"I've never been to a Soltheon-style ball," she said, standing elegantly beside him.
Damon really didn't feel like talking—but how could he ignore the elven beauty in a flowing white dress? Her white hair was styled elegantly, accentuating her ears. Her heels made her just a little taller than usual.
His eyes drifted—just briefly.
He subconsciously recalled her asurents
"She's definitely grown past those…"
"What?" Sylvia asked, blinking. "Grown past what?"
Damon cleared his throat. "I ant… aren't balls in the Verdant Continent the sa?"
She nodded, giving him a subtle, pointed smile.
"They're similar… although, in the Verdant Continent, the gentleman would be the one to ask the lady for a dance."
He got the hint.
And the glances from the other nobles didn't help—particularly from the noblewon who were very aware of his status as a "commoner" and gave him wide berth.
But the noble young n?
They were practically boiling with envy.
Damon sighed.
He'd wanted to focus on his clone. But what better way to keep the Duke's attention fixed here, than to be seen dancing with the daughter of the Elf King Kadelas?
He stepped back with a slight bow.
Then extended his hand.
"May I have this dance… my beautiful princess?"
Sylvia's face turned scarlet.
The "beautiful" part wasn't necessary—but it seed Damon was determined to pull the heartstrings of this fair maiden.
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