A Waste of Time-Chapter 3: Fractured Echoes

Daemon walked out from under the cover of the tent, his feet heavy with despair.
When he looked up at the sky, ready to curse until his throat gave out, the night sky flashed with blinding lightning. The sheer cosmic indifference of it all seemed to mock his earthly frustrations. It instantly reminded him of the scenes that began with the space-time tunnel, then the bronze gate and the titans, the divine beasts, and finally the inexplicable meeting with that mysterious figure.
Instantly, he swallowed his rage, feeling the weight of the world crush him.
Rumble
Daemon was deafened by roaring thunder as rain pounded down, drenching the few rags he wore.
Thud
“Ugh… Damn it!” In a burst of rage, he punched the nearest tree trunk. The pain snapped him back to the brutal reality of his situation. Daemon stared at his scraped knuckle, watching a drop of blood trickle to the ground.
Right! Didn’t that guy give me a drop of blood? There’s gotta be a use for it!
Daemon remembered, ducking back into the tent as wind threatened to tear the flimsy shelter apart. The makeshift roof failed to keep the rain from soaking his bed and bundles of firewood. The battered hut offered little protection against the storm’s fury.
Pressing on the wound on his knuckle, Daemon suddenly found himself sharing the vision of another person — standing right there outside the tent, exactly where he’d punched the tree.
He could see himself from this other perspective, staring at his own back.
Spinning around, he found a twin of the boy, Da Niu.
Except this twin was naked — and completely under Daemon’s control.
“Whoa!”
Howdy there, stranger.
Daemon gawked when the clone spoke the exact words he’d made him say. Awe flashed across his face, followed by his trademark cynicism. Now he was certain he wasn’t hallucinating.
“So that’s the gift… I’ll be damned,” Daemon muttered, watching the clone step into the tent and grab the only spare change of clothes. The clone sniffed it, wrinkled his nose, shrugged, and pulled it on anyway.
A cold drop hit Daemon’s head, breaking his thoughts. After a silent nod to each other, the two got to work fixing the battered shelter.
“Huff… I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” Once they’d tightened the ropes and cleared out the soaked bundles of twigs — useless now for days — Daemon found a dry spot, spread his bedroll, and collapsed beside his clone. But for some reason, he alone felt exhausted after all that work.
“So it’s true… I get all the negatives, but both of us share the benefits?” Daemon asked, shooting his clone a side-eye he couldn’t hide his envy behind. The unfairness tasted bitter on his tongue.
“At least you gain something when I work out. Just make sure to eat for both of us,” the clone quipped, adding with a smirk, “And get more clothes while you’re at it.”
Daemon groaned, eyeing the kid’s hard-won trophies — days of work, now soaked and nearly ruined. He shook his head, then asked, “So if you die… you live and I die?”
The clone raised an eyebrow, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s just make sure it doesn’t come to that. A death on either side is bad for both.”
“True.” Daemon nodded, then walked to the deep corner of the tent where the boy had carved a hidden stash into the biggest tree. He retrieved all the food Da Niu had squirreled away, returning with a piece of cloth tied up in tight knots. “Want some?” he asked his clone, grimacing at the sight of the rock-hard bread inside.
“I was made so you’d handle all the distractions — food, sleep, comfort. My existence is your second chance at life, an edge no mortal ever dreams of.” The clone’s tone was eerily similar to the figure who’d given Daemon the drop of blood.
I guess that info was baked into him by that weirdo,
Daemon thought, standing at the tent entrance with the bread extended toward the falling rain, hoping to soften it before it cracked his teeth.
Outside, his wooden bowl was already full of rainwater. Thirsty, he gulped it down and tested the soggy bread warily. Finding it chewable enough, he set the bowl back out and flopped onto his bed, sealing the flap shut.
The flickering campfire was his only warmth and light. He chewed in silence, finishing the bread and the few slices of dried meat — his only protein left.
Apparently, a week ago, Da Niu had found a rabbit caught in some branches. He’d wasted no time, devouring part of it then and preserving the rest. He’d smoked the meat carefully and traded some for that rock-hard bread with Auntie Fan, one of his oldest village customers.
Rest in peace, champ,
Daemon thought, swallowing down the rising emotion. He refused to let himself tear up for the boy whose life he’d hijacked.
“Waaah…”
Sniff
“S-shut up!” Daemon glared at his clone, who was crying honest tears.
“All right.” The clone instantly wiped his face and changed expressions faster than Daemon could blink.
He watched as the clone, bored, began testing the body’s limits: splits, squats, push-ups, pull-ups, burpees, sit-ups, crunches, lunges — nothing left undone. The clone moved with tireless energy, the complete opposite of Daemon’s drained bones.
Daemon quickly got bored and lay down to sleep, utterly spent after everything — the plane crash, the afterlife, the cosmic freak show.
But he woke not long after, roused by pain twisting in his gut. Hunger — raw, punishing, mind-breaking starvation. Every cell in his body screamed for food, an agony worse than anything he’d known since the plane crash.
“Three thousand four hundred five… three thousand four hundred six… three thousand four hundred seven…” Opening his eyes, Daemon saw his clone hammering out some insane, complex exercise as dawn broke. Those eyes glowed like he was possessed, counting off impossible numbers that made Daemon’s veins pop in rage.
What the fuck! Who do you think you are — Might Guy?!
Daemon thought, forcing himself upright through dizziness. He lunged at the clone.
“Are you trying to kill me, you son of a bitch?!” he croaked through a raw throat, grabbing for the clone’s neck. But his grip was weak — his fingers barely managed to squeeze.
“Huh? Morning already?” The clone shrugged him off like an annoying fly and hopped to his feet. “Lost track of time. I’ll get you water.” He stepped outside and returned with the wooden bowl, kneeling next to the wheezing Daemon. He helped him sit up — every muscle in Daemon’s body screamed in protest, his face twisting with pain.
Hiss
Gulp
Just you wait, you bastard. This isn’t over between us… Damn it, it hurts — but it tastes so good… Hard work always pays off, Lee!
“Hai… Guy Sensei.” The clone smirked down at him.
“S-shut up.”
“All right.” The clone took the empty bowl, stood, and left the tent. “Rest up while I find you something to eat. Sorry I overdid it… won’t happen again.”
Daemon wanted to chuck a rock at the idiot’s head — but stopped. He’d probably tear something, regret it instantly, or crack that fool’s skull open and wind up with the wound himself. The thought alone made him lower the rock — for now.
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