The pale, ash-laden sky of the Immortal World began to shift, bleeding from a dull twilight into the faint, cold luminescence of morning. Inside the subterranean cavern, the ambient temperature plummeted, but Lylin remained motionless on his stone slab, his breathing steady, his eyes fixed on the ticking counter within his mind. Time until refresh: 00:00:05... 00:00:02... 00:00:00. SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: DAILY REFRESH COMPLETE. HOST ENERGY RESTORED: 100/100. AVAILABLE CLONES: 1/1. A wave of relief, cold and sharp, washed over Lylin. The lingering weakness in his physical chest felt instantly lighter as his energy pool replenished to its maximum capacity. His passive physical recovery, fueled by the warrior clone’s Infused Flame Body, had already stitched his abdomen together, leaving behind a thick, pale scar—a permanent reminder of his initial powerlessness. He sat up slowly, his feet touching the cold stone floor. Beside him, the warrior clone stood like an unyielding shadow, its dark eyes glowing with quiet embers, ready to execute any command. "Two," Lylin murmured, his voice stronger now, carrying a cold, decisive edge. "It begins with two." He willed the system into motion. "CREATE CLONE." The process was smoother this time. Fifty units of energy drained from his display in an instant, dropping his counter to 50/100. The warm, tingling sensation rippled out from his core, pooling in the empty space beside his first creation. Air distorted; heat haze shimmered in the damp cavern air as grey ash and ethereal light coalesced into a human form. The figure solidified rapidly. Black hair, sharp features, identical physique—another exact replica of Lylin himself. But as the new clone opened its eyes, there was no fiery orange glow within them. Instead, a calm, deep sapphire light flickered faintly behind its pupils, emanating an aura not of destruction, but of profound calculation and hidden structure. SYSTEM NOTICE: CLONE TWO GENERATED. CLASS: SCHOLAR / TACTICIAN. TALENT: SPIRITUAL PERCEPTION (UNCOMMON). PASSIVE EFFECT: MAPS AMBIENT ENERGY FLOWS AND HIDDEN STRUCTURES WITHIN A 100-METER RADIUS. Lylin’s lips curled into a faint, grim smile. Fate—or the system—was answering his exact strategic needs. A brute force warrior was essential for survival, but a tactician with sensory mapping was the key to expansion. He immediately extended his consciousness, linking his mind to the second clone. The world transformed. Through the Scholar’s eyes, the subterranean cavern was no longer just damp rock and dark shadows. It was a complex web of glowing, translucent threads. Faint blue lines of natural earth energy ran through the ceiling, while dark, stagnant pockets of decay lurked in the deep corners. Most importantly, several yards behind the rear wall of their chamber, the Scholar’s perception revealed a hollow pocket—a hidden structure buried beneath centuries of rock. "Report," Lylin commanded mentally, testing the dual-network connection. The Scholar clone turned its head slightly, its gaze focusing on the solid wall of stone behind them. Its voice, when it spoke, was smooth, precise, and entirely devoid of panic. "Host," the Scholar stated calmly. "Behind this wall lies an abandoned subterranean ley-line node. It contains a small pool of condensed spiritual liquid and a broken transmission array. If secured, it can serve as our primary operational hidden base." Lylin stood up completely, testing his weight on his healed legs. Pain flickered faintly in his gut, but it was easily ignored. He looked at his two creations—the Warrior, radiating controlled heat and physical destruction; the Scholar, analyzing the environment with cold, absolute precision. He was no longer a dying victim trapped on a stone spike. He was the core of an expanding network. "Warrior," Lylin ordered, pointing to the rear wall where the ley-line node was hidden. "Clear a path. Quietly." The Flame Body warrior stepped forward, its fists igniting with concentrated, crimson-orange heat. It pressed its glowing palms against the ancient stone, softening the solid rock like hot clay to prevent loud collapses that might alert the beasts or entities above. The Scholar stood beside Lylin, continuously monitoring the energy fluctuations, ensuring no stray pulses leaked to the surface. Far above the underground sanctuary, high in the sky where the ash clouds parted slightly, the ancient three-headed serpent remained coiled around its mountain peak. Its central golden eye blinked slowly. It felt a subtle, almost imperceptible shift beneath the earth—not a surge of violence, but the quiet, deliberate spreading of root-like tendrils beneath the surface. Lylin watched the rock melt away, revealing the dark, forgotten chamber beyond. His hidden empire had just claimed its first piece of territory

The First Ray of Dawn