A Fateful Encounter
{...}
…A brief moment of regret, followed by several familiar pinching sensations racing across her body. If it weren’t for her breastplate, such an attack could have very well been the end of her right then and there. She’d just been stabbed several times in quick succession, an unfortunately familiar sensation. It became clear to Arle at that moment that she had made a mistake. She was going to die if she didn’t take steps to protect herself. The mage looked like Hell, but she got back up and faced her reflection to confront the other. A lot of people wouldn’t have been able to.
“L-Levia!” Arle stammered out, a mostly transparent barrier manifesting itself before her. She fully expected the other to be smart enough not to attack into it, which made it a superior defense to simply healing herself and hoping she handled the next attack better. She was buying herself time, at least assuming the other didn’t find a way to get past Arle’s barrier.
“Fine! You can be ‘Arle’!” the mage shouted in frustration. “…But think about what you’re doing. Anyone can choose the name Arle. For their kids; for themselves. It’s who you are that makes a name meaningful!” she remarked, berating the other for her actions. She proceeded to pause, however, and allowed herself to give in to the weakness eating at her a bit.
“…Do you really want the name Arle to mean murderer..??” she continued in a much softer, pleading tone.
“I learned a really long time ago that it’s easy to make a mistake. Just because you feel justified now, doesn’t mean you won’t regret anything later. Es-Especially when it comes to killing someone. If you’re going to take my name, …at le-least learn from my mistakes, alright?? I want to help…” the blue-clad mage finished, trailing off rather breathlessly. The pain from her wounds was starting to really set in.
...something was wrong. Why was she feeling pity!? This was a mere doppelganger, right!? The same ones that she fought while she was still Arle...
Yet, something was telling her this was no fake. She had listened to every word her blue-clad counterpart had said, and yet...
“...do you really want the name ‘Arle’ to mean murder...?”
Those words repeated in her mind. No, she was a warrior of justice! ...right?
The words were not ones that a mere doppelganger would use. Not one bit. And her offer to help of all things...
It finally clicked. Doppelganger or not, this Arle wasn’t hostile. Not only that, but she herself was the one that attacked her without warning. Just like how a hostile doppelganger would.
She took another look at herself. Instead of the blue-clad attire she had worn before the universe was remade, her armor was a red color. She had recalled a doppelganger of herself long ago, when she was a child, also clad in red armor instead of the typical blue...
Who was the real doppelganger here?
She waited a bit before casting her next spell towards Arle... which happened to be a much different type of spell than the two before it.
“...Healing.”
She raised her hand towards the blue-clad sorceress. Even if it did reflect off the barrier, the spell signified that she had surrendered.
