Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Chapter 1334: The Impossible Task



(A/N: Do not be confused by the use of the name Replicus in this chapter. Its for the purposes of the flashback.)

During the training in the Timemould Mirror Box...

Only about a month had passed according to the standard of time in Aigas, but everyone already felt as though they might have been better off dead. They could hardly feel their limbs and even their souls seemed to be aching. Whether it was an Unlimited or any other individual who had been glad to be Replicus' subordinate, they, for a short while, began to regret joining him.

The training scheme their master had devised was brutal. It must have been meant for Giants and not humans.

The Timemould Mirror Box was too perfectly equipped to handle Replicus' intense training regiments. It could conjure weapons and artefacts of any ranks according to Aigas' standards, and could even have them assume the properties of existing items. The suits of armour were easily the most loathed by the experts in here. They could mimic the appearance of anyone in the Timemould Mirror Box including their personality, current mindset and abilities. It was effectively a perfect copy that could only exist in this strange place.

Replicus had replicated himself using the suits of armour and was training everyone individually – within separate camps in the Mirror Box - for the last month. He learned all their strengths, weaknesses and limits, and used them both for and against them. He broke and rebuilt each of his subordinates and had them thoroughly study each of their powers, no matter how insignificant, to exhaustion.

At times, he would use Maximum Catalyst to strip his followers of all their powers (reverting them to a state where they hadn't mastered anything) and then engage them in combat, beating the ever-living piss out of them until they learned to study his movements and respond as best as they could even without any supernatural powers.

But this wasn't the thickest of it.

Replicus abhorred the fact that Classes were categorised into Arma Using, Form Using and Energy Forming. He forced everyone to master each category in one fashion or the other, but it was nothing as tame as Class Branching.

It didn't matter if you were a Mage. You would soon become a master of hand-to-hand combat and even forget to use spells when the four-armed monster of a leader spent the better part of sixteen hours forcing you to fight and react to his whipping fists and cruel kicks. Even close quarters combatants were forced to learn to discern energies. After all, there was no excuse for failing to master the art of distinguishing energy enough to a point where you could see how your enemy meant to attack before they even began the physical motion for it. A solid month of this cruelty made all of Replicus' subordinates experience all stages of grief. Replicus inflicted all forms of pain imaginable upon them - disembowelling, dismembering, spatial distorting and so many other forms of torture - in duels in order to establish the consequences of a loss (stakes), bolster their mental fortitude and tolerance.

Some of his subordinates hated him for it for a while, but soon, they learned to accept reality. This was their life now. This was for their own good.

They learned discipline, and not just in combat. They actively engaged with Replicus and asked him how to improve. Granted, he didn't always have the answers, but he did at least steer them towards possibilities.

This attuning was simply one part of the regiments that Replicus had his subordinates go through every day. The rest were shorter, but bloodier. The Warmoth's Progeny would not have weak, witless allies and in time, his subordinates decided they didn't want to fall short of his expectations.

All this horrendous work came before Replicus began gifting them all skills and other forms of powers, of course. A sturdy foundation was much more important, and wouldn't it be more rewarding if that sturdy foundation also found quality complements after it was finished?

It was only when all the soon-to-be Stark Troops had grown so much physically, mentally and spiritually, indistinguishable in their forte by their appearance, that Replicus had gathered them all from their separate training spots.

It had been both a joy and a relief for all of them to see their peers after what felt like decades. The soon-to-be Troops had commented on each other's appearance, discussed how much they'd grown and laughed about how much they had cursed their master.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Then, Replicus had addressed them all.

"I'm glad to see that you socketholes can smile again. That's a good sign. I'll ramp up the intensity of the training now," he had said and his subordinates had turned pale. "I'm just joking. Short of chopping both your bodies and souls to pieces and using a Rule to inflict eternal torment on them, there's nothing else I can do to toughen you up."

Everyone had been relieved. They laughed nervously, unsure if Replicus really was joking or not.

"I don't think I need to explain again why I've put you through such trials. The enemy I'm preparing you for tempers with souls and is at least a thousand times more cruel than I am. For that, you need to have otherworldly capabilities across all forms of your existence, not just the body," Replicus had said. "But you've already achieved that. Now comes the next step, what I call the Impossible Task."

The Unlimited and the rest of the experts had committed this name to heart. Some cursed, wondering if it was a new form of torture. They couldn't take Replicus' reassuring speeches seriously nowadays. The fact that they had each gotten closer to Replicus, even going as far as to consider him a close friend gave them the right to doubt him.

But what really was the Impossible Task?

"I'll bestow upon you skills and stats that match all your capabilities. However, I won't give you time to practise and get used to them on your own and by your own standard, or even by mine. Not strictly at least," Replicus had said before grinning. "But this Task isn't just to help you grow into your finest form. I want to choose among you those that will stand above the rest, distinguished and fierce. I've already prepared you for this trial as best as I can. All of you will make the attempt."

Everyone was growing nervous. Replicus let them stew in terror before continuing.

"For the next month before our time in here is up, each of you will fight doubles that will be created from the instant I give you the extra skills I've promised. You'll be fighting yourselves. To remain in my service, you will have to fight at least 100 of these at the same time, and kill them all, otherwise, I will discard you."

Everyone withered.

100 copies of themselves?

100?!

But these copies were extremely powerful. They were smarter than their original counterparts and they knew how their counterparts' minds worked and could damn near predict every action they took. They were also freakishly durable!

(A/N: Refer to Ch.1168.)

Would Replicus really kick someone out of the Faction just for failing to reach this target?

But before anyone could speak out (not that they would), Skullius continued. "But as I've said, 100 is the bare minimum. Each double you kill will be replaced by another during this task, all in order to see what your upper limit will be. For those I will recognise as distinguished and worthy to be given a new title that may even transcend mine if needed, I have set a standard, though, if they so wish, they may go beyond it. For that, I would guarantee extra preferential treatment."

The experts gulped, shaken.

Replicus had laughed.

"Kill at least 1,000 doubles, and I will honour you as an equal."