The cool, damp air of the infirmary cubicle seemed to absorb all sound, leaving only the soft, bewildered gasps of Sergeant Rhys. Kaelen stood between the original Rhys and his newly replicated twin, maintaining a calm demeanor despite the profound power he had just unleashed. The new Replicated Sergeant Rhys stood with the same unyielding loyalty as Replicated Private Finn, his gaze fixed on Kaelen, a silent, unwavering pillar.
Original Rhys, meanwhile, stared at his duplicate with wide, incredulous eyes. "By the Ancestors... what sorcery is this, Kaelen?" His bandaged arm seemed forgotten as he took a step back.
Kaelen placed a reassuring hand on original Rhys's shoulder. "No sorcery, Sergeant. Just… fortunate coincidences. Another soldier, perhaps separated from a deep reconnaissance mission, looking exactly like you. It's an uncanny resemblance, I grant you, but the chaos of the battlefield often throws up such oddities." He kept his voice steady, his expression earnest, as if merely stating the obvious. "Think of it as the fortress gaining another experienced veteran, just when we need him most."
It was a flimsy explanation, he knew. But in the constant, high-stress environment of Karshelm Fortress, where madness and miracles blurred, men were often quicker to accept a strange sight than to question the inexplicable. They craved explanations, however fantastical, over the terrifying unknown.
Rhys finally tore his gaze from his doppelgänger and looked at Kaelen, his eyes searching. He was a pragmatic soldier, but he also recognized the inexplicable. A deep sigh escaped him. "Fortunate coincidence, you say? If you say so, lad. But this fortress... it gets stranger by the day." He shook his head, a mixture of awe and weary acceptance on his face. "Just... make sure he's a reliable fighter. We need every sword."
"He is," Kaelen affirmed, a subtle, confident glint in his eyes. He motioned to Replicated Rhys, who nodded almost imperceptibly, his stance mirroring Kaelen's own readiness. "Absolutely reliable."
With the immediate confusion managed, Kaelen began the subtle integration of his new duplicate. He assigned Replicated Sergeant Rhys to his own squad, justifying it to the company's quartermaster as a "much-needed transfer of veteran experience" due to his own squad leader promotion. The original Rhys, still nursing his arm, would temporarily focus on training new recruits while his duplicate served on the front lines. This arrangement served Kaelen's purpose perfectly: it kept the two Rhys's separated enough to avoid immediate detection of their identical nature while allowing Kaelen to test and integrate his new loyal asset.
Over the next few days, Kaelen observed his growing loyal core. Replicated Private Finn, now assigned as Kaelen's personal aide and scout, moved through the fortress with a newfound efficiency. He gathered whispered information from the mess halls, kept tabs on various officers, and delivered messages with uncanny speed, always returning with an unblinking report of absolute adherence to Kaelen's unspoken commands. He was Kaelen's eyes and ears, extending his reach into the fortress's hidden corners.
Replicated Sergeant Rhys proved to be an invaluable addition to Kaelen's squad. He moved with the same practiced ease and strategic understanding as the original, barking orders with the same gruff authority, leading patrols with the same seasoned caution. He was a mirror image of the experienced leader, but his every action, every decision, was subtly aligned with Kaelen's broader objectives. During patrols on the battlements, when Kaelen subtly shifted their formation to counter an unseen threat, Replicated Rhys would anticipate and echo his command, making Kaelen's rising leadership seem even more intuitive to the other soldiers.
Kaelen, meanwhile, continued his rapid ascent. His strategic mind, unburdened by past attachments, saw the war not as a series of desperate struggles but as a grand tactical puzzle. He redesigned patrol routes, streamlined supply distribution for his own unit, and even proposed a more efficient use of the limited ballista emplacements on his section of the wall. Captain Theron, initially wary, found himself increasingly relying on Kaelen's insights. The Captain's trust was growing, slowly replacing his suspicion, swayed by the undeniable successes Kaelen brought to his command.
One afternoon, Kaelen stood atop the North Watchtower, observing the desolate plains. Below, the fortress was a hive of activity, constantly preparing for the next siege. Sergeant Rhys (the original one), his arm mostly healed, approached him.
"You've truly made a difference, Kaelen," Rhys admitted, his voice rough but sincere. "Our section of the wall, it feels… safer. More prepared. Theron's even talking about promoting you again, to Lieutenant. You're moving up faster than any man I've seen in this war."
Kaelen smiled, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Just doing my part, Sergeant. We all are." The lieutenant promotion was coming, he could feel it. More authority, more command, more templates. He still had that last duplication token, a burning anticipation in his mind. He had held onto it, waiting for the perfect candidate. He needed someone with influence, someone who could open doors or provide access to resources. Someone who held a different kind of power within the fortress.
Just then, a messenger ran up the tower stairs, breathless. "Lieutenant Kaelen! Captain Theron requires your presence immediately! Emergency briefing!"
Kaelen felt a prickle of anticipation. An emergency briefing meant a critical mission. And a critical mission meant an opportunity. He followed the messenger, leaving Rhys to his watch.
Captain Theron was in the war room, along with Commander Valerius and a grim-faced Colonel Elias, the fortress's chief engineer. The air was tense.
"Kaelen," Theron began, pointing to a section of the map where a new red marker glowed ominously. "Our scouts report a new development. The Necromancer legions to the north have deployed a Wargolem. A siege monster, unlike anything we've faced before. It's advancing slowly, but relentlessly, towards our main gate. Our current defenses won't hold it."
Colonel Elias stepped forward, his face pale. "It's a construct of corrupted earth and bone, powered by dark magic. Our ballistas will merely chip at its hide. Our only chance is to disable it from within, or sabotage its arcane core."
Kaelen's mind immediately went to work. A Wargolem. A powerful, magical construct. This was a challenge that required not just tactical skill, but perhaps something more. He thought of the types of soldiers within the fortress: frontline fighters, scouts, strategists, and then... specialists. Those with unique knowledge or skills.
"How do we disable its arcane core, Colonel?" Kaelen asked, his voice calm, cutting through the tension.
Elias sighed. "It requires a specific type of magical dampening rune, applied directly to the core. We have only one alchemist capable of forging such a rune, Master Alric. But he is... reclusive. And quite elderly. He rarely leaves his laboratory in the deepest levels of the fortress."
Master Alric. A reclusive alchemist, holding the key to defeating a major threat. Kaelen felt the last duplication token hum, a perfect resonance. An alchemist wasn't a soldier, not in the traditional sense, but his knowledge was a weapon, arguably more potent than any blade. Duplicating him wouldn't just give Kaelen a loyal alchemist; it would give him access to forbidden knowledge, to the very secrets of magic that were so scarce in this world. This was the kind of unique asset his Legion needed to truly dominate.
"Captain," Kaelen stated, his eyes shining with cold determination. "I volunteer to lead the team to retrieve Master Alric. And if necessary, to ensure the rune is applied to the Wargolem."
Theron looked at Kaelen, then at the Wargolem's ominous march on the map. He saw the grim resolve in Kaelen's eyes, and the desperation of their situation. "Very well, Kaelen. You will have a small, elite team. Choose your men carefully. Your mission: escort Master Alric to the Wargolem, ensure the rune is delivered, and stop that monster."
Kaelen nodded, a silent promise forming in his mind. This was it. Not just a mission, but a pivotal moment. The Wargolem was a threat, but it was also a tool. A means to an end. An opportunity to add the final, crucial piece to his initial loyal core. He had one token left. And he knew exactly who he would use it on, and what unimaginable power that would unlock for his growing Legion. The true architect of Karshelm's fate was about to make his move.