MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

In the same dimly lit, flickering screens lining the walls, each one displaying a different scene, a different battle.

The air was thick with anticipation.

A group of soldiers, from various ranks, stood in silence, their eyes locked on the screens.

Colonel Vazeryth stood at the front of the room, his eyes sharp, analyzing every movement with meticulous care.

His uniform was pristine, the insignia of his rank gleaming under the dim lights.

Beside him stood Lieutenant Darren and Corporal Daniel, though their focus was entirely on the screen, unable to tear their gaze away from the combat they were witnessing.

The room was filled with the soft hum of the monitors, the only sound breaking the silence.

On the screen, the fight had already reached its peak.

The real Anthony was battling against his clone, a perfect replica with the knowledge of his battle experience.

But what set this battle apart was the way Anthony moved, how his katana cut through the air in flawless arcs, his footwork precise, his parries swift and unwavering.

Each movement was the embodiment of perfection.

His blade was an extension of his will, cutting through the air with an elegance and efficiency that was almost otherworldly.

Colonel Vazeryth's lips curled into a grin, his eyes narrowing in a mixture of admiration and amusement.

'A monster'

He thought, watching Anthony with growing intrigue.

The colonel had seen countless warriors, all striving for perfection, but Anthony's execution was something else entirely.

The way he responded to every strike, every feint, was like watching a master at work, an artist painting with a blade.

The clone's movements were sharp, but they were mere imitations, lacking the depth of real battle experience.

Yet the real Anthony matched him perfectly at first, a mirror image of his own prowess.

But then, it happened.

Anthony's movements shifted, subtle at first, but enough to tip the balance.

His footwork became sharper, his blade faster, more decisive. It was as if he was no longer simply reacting to his clone's strikes, he was dictating the flow of battle.

There was no sign of exhaustion, no change in his breathing, no shift in his stance.

It was as if Anthony had simply decided to up the ante, and the clone could not keep up.

"How does he do it?"

Lieutenant Darren whispered, his voice low, almost reverential.

He had never seen anything like this.

The clone, despite its combat data, was no match for the real Anthony.

Every strike, every parry, every feint from the fake Anthony seemed less and less effective as the seconds ticked by.

The atmosphere in the room thickened.

A deep, palpable silence settled over the soldiers.

It wasn't just awe, it was something else, something that made the air feel heavier, as if the very presence of the battle was suffocating them with its intensity.

Corporal Daniel stood motionless, his eyes wide.

"Is this... even possible?"

He asked, though the words were more rhetorical than anything else.

He could see it now. Anthony was not just responding, he was evolving in real time, matching and surpassing the battle experience the clone had.

It was as if Anthony's very existence was the countermeasure to the clone's every move.

The screens flickered, casting shadows on the soldiers' faces as the battle reached its climax.

Anthony's blade sliced through the air with greater precision, cutting the space between him and his opponent with a ferocity that was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

The fake Anthony staggered, struggling to recover, but it was too late.

Each strike from the real Anthony landed with ridiculous accuracy, each movement a step closer to victory.

Colonel Vazeryth's grin widened, a glint of something akin to pride flickering in his eyes.

His mind was already processing what he had witnessed, Anthony's abilities were beyond what they had expected.

In every swing, in every move, Anthony had become something more than just a soldier.

He was a force of nature, an indomitable presence that could not be matched. The colonel had seen many recruits in his time, but none like this.

Then, with a final, decisive move, Anthony located the core of the fake Anthony.

In one fluid motion, he brought his katana down, destroying the core and ending the battle.

The clone fell to the ground, lifeless, the battle over.

There was no exhaustion in Anthony's form, no sign of strain.

He stood tall, his katana resting at his side, as if the battle had been little more than a casual spar.

The room was deathly silent.

No one spoke.

No one dared to.

The soldiers could only watch in awe, their minds struggling to comprehend what they had just witnessed. Colonel Vazeryth's voice broke the silence, his tone low but filled with admiration.

"A monster"

He muttered, almost to himself.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for Anthony.

The recruit had proven himself, not just as a soldier, but as something greater, something beyond the grasp of ordinary men.

As the screen flickered again, showing the aftermath of the battle, Lieutenant Darren spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"There's no way... he was flawless"

The colonel nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"He didn't just match his clone, Darren. He surpassed it. In every way"

The room remained still, the soldiers processing the implications of what they had just seen.

But the awe did not last forever.

The screens changed, shifting to show other recruits, all in the midst of their own battles with their fake versions.

The contrast was stark.

Some of the recruits were struggling, their movements hesitant and uncertain.

The clone mimics were ruthless, pushing their counterparts to the limit.

One recruit in particular resorted to a trick, he sprayed sand into the clone's eyes, hoping to gain a fleeting advantage.

But even this move, desperate and calculated, only delayed the inevitable.

The clone recovered quickly, its focus never wavering.

Another recruit, barely managing to block the strikes from his clone, looked like he was on the verge of collapse.

His breath came in ragged gasps, and his eyes flickered with desperation.

The screen displayed a series of strikes, each one more frantic than the last, until finally, with a final failed attempt to block, the recruit was overwhelmed.

But the most striking part was the silence in the room.

The soldiers who watched the recruits who struggled against their clones, who resorted to desperate tricks, could not help but feel the weight of Anthony's flawless performance.

The battle had exposed the gap between them and him, and the room was filled with the understanding that they were not in the same league.

The other soldiers watched in silence, some with expressions of disbelief, others with something akin to envy.

Colonel Vazeryth, however, remained impassive, his thoughts already shifting.

He had seen what he needed to.

Anthony was not just another recruit.

He was something entirely different, a never seen before specimen.

The others might struggle, but Anthony...

Anthony was in a league of his own.

As the trials continued, the soldiers remained captivated, though their focus was now divided.

The others were fighting their clones, their battles ranging from desperate to calculated, but all of them seemed to pale in comparison to Anthony's effortless victory.

The colonel's mind was already working, plotting the next steps.

Whatever the outcome of this trial, one thing was certain, Anthony was no ordinary recruit.

The trial had just begun, but it was already clear who had risen above the rest.