Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game
Chapter 125: Ch123. Victory

Chapter 125: Ch123. Victory

Miles charged, and the Master met him.

Their clash sent shockwaves through the shifting battlefield. The scythe’s blade, now humming with temporal energy, carved through the air with a ghostly afterimage trailing behind each arc. The Master’s counter was just as swift, his bare hands and his movements refined to the point of inhuman precision. Every step he took seemed measured, his strikes deliberate, but Miles was no longer playing catch-up.

He could feel it now, the pull of time itself – even though he was not able to use it for more than a few fractions of second at a time.

The battlefield warped around them as their blows collided, the neon lights above flickering erratically. Sparks flew as metal clashed against the unseen force that cloaked everything in the Master’s reach, and each strike resonated with a weight that threatened to break reality itself. The Master shifted his stance, his palm open, and Miles saw it coming before it even happened, a surge of force radiating outward, a kinetic blast meant to knock him off balance.

But Miles moved before the attack could fully manifest. He had seen it, if only for a fraction of a second, just before it took form. His body reacted, twisting out of the way, his scythe arcing forward to counter the movement. The blade struck the Master’s outstretched arm, forcing him to pivot rather than unleash his attack in full.

The Master’s mask tilted slightly, as if acknowledging Miles, but the moment was fleeting. The next instant, he was upon Miles again, shifting in and out of his line of sight with uncanny speed. Miles barely had time to react as a force struck his ribs, sending him skidding backward. He dug his heels in, his armor pulsing as it reinforced his [Doppelganger] cloak, flickering to absorb the force.

He exhaled sharply, forcing his breath to steady. He was keeping up, but barely. The Master’s control over the battlefield was absolute, while Miles was still learning to wield his own abilities.

But he was not done yet.

With a deep breath, he let instinct take hold. The ticking clock embedded in his scythe pulsed, and Miles embraced the strange, subtle sensation that had guided him before. The world blurred, just for a second, and when clarity returned, he had already moved.

The Master’s eyes flickered as Miles bypassed his guard, swinging his scythe upward in a precise, brutal arc. The strike should have landed cleanly, but at the last moment, the Master twisted away, his coat barely catching the edge of the blade. A thin line was carved into the fabric, the closest thing to a direct hit Miles had managed so far.

"You’re learning." The Master said, his voice carrying a note of genuine approval. "But it is not enough."

His hand flicked outward, and the chamber responded.

Shadows coalesced into jagged spears, rising from the battlefield like living things. They lunged for Miles, striking from every angle, forcing him into relentless motion. He spun his scythe nonstop, cleaving the shadowy constructs apart, but for every one he destroyed, another took its place. The battlefield was shifting beneath him, a trap closing in.

’If I only react, I’ll lose.’ Miles gritted his teeth. ’I need to act first.’

His [Doppelganger] armor pulsed, and in an instant, he abandoned his defensive maneuvers. Instead of dodging, he surged forward, directly toward the Master. The shadows closed in behind him, but he ignored them.

Time wavered at the edge of his blade, as if ready to warp anything it touched.

The Master moved to counter, his own force rising to meet Miles’ charge, but something was different this time. Miles was not simply swinging his weapon anymore. He was commanding the very flow of the battle.

The instant before they clashed, Miles shifted the weight of time itself, accelerating the strike at the last possible moment.

And the scythe connected.

It was not a deep cut, but it was real. The blade carved through the Master’s coat, drawing the faintest line of blood along his side. The Master stepped back, his expression unreadable beneath the mask.

For the first time, though, he looked at Miles not as a challenger, but as an equal in the making.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with meaning.

"So, you can tap into the currents of time itself." Then the Master exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

Miles remained silent, his grip firm on his weapon.

"Good. Then let us see if you can truly wield it." The Master tilted his head.

The atmosphere shifted, and Miles felt the weight of something immense pressing down upon him. The battlefield trembled, and the masked figures who had once been silent observers reappeared along the edges of the chamber. They did not move, but their presence alone made the air feel heavier, charged with unseen energy.

The Master raised his hand, and the chamber responded in kind.

Everything slowed.

Miles felt it immediately, a force unlike anything he had encountered before. The very air thickened, his movements dragging as if submerged in molasses. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, stretched over what felt like eternity.

Time was bending, but not by his will.

There was something off about it, though.

The Master stepped forward, unaffected by the distortion.

"Control." He said simply. "It is not just about speed or power. It is about command. To wield time is to rule over inevitability itself."

Miles struggled to move, his body resisting every effort. But something clicked in his head when the Master said that word, ’inevitability’.

His scythe trembled in his grip, the golden crystal embedded in its blade flickering weakly. He could feel the weight of the Master’s control pressing down on him, unrelenting.

No.

He clenched his jaw, forcing his mind to push through the thickened air. And as he pushed, understanding pushed with him.

The scythe’s new power was his, and if it was his, it could not be that time itself was being pulled and pushed against his will.

It was him.

It was him who was being forced to a stagger by the Master’s powers.

But Miles had come too far to be stopped now.

He had already tapped into the flow of time before, had already moved ahead of it, even if just for an instant.

He focused. He reached inward.

The ticking within his scythe pulsed, and in that moment, something shattered inside him, and Miles understood. He was not trapped.

It was only that the Master was a being beyond his comprehension, and when Miles realized it, his thoughts sharpened, and in an instant, he let go of resistance.

The fire that surged within him roared louder, and something even deeper seemed to awaken.

With that, the invisible force fractured around him.

The world snapped back into motion, and Miles moved. His body surged forward, not as a reaction, but as inevitability. The Master’s eyes widened slightly as Miles closed the distance between them in a blink. His scythe cut through the air, impossibly fast, accelerated beyond what even he could fully comprehend.

The Master barely managed to deflect, and the battlefield trembled beneath their exchange, shadows cracking, neon lights flickering in and out of existence. The Master met each strike, but it was no longer effortless.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the battle stilled.

Miles stood behind the Master, the blade of his scythe raised against his neck, his breath steady. The Master stood back to back with Miles, unmoving, his coat torn, the remnants of battle marking his once-pristine form.

A long silence followed, then the Master chuckled.

It was a low, knowing sound.

"You truly have come far." He straightened, exhaling slowly. "You learn things quite quickly for a human."

"Does that mean I’ve won?" Miles did not lower his guard.

The Master tilted his head, then, in a rare display, he inclined it slightly.

"You are worthy of your answers."

The battlefield around them began to dissolve, the weight of the Master’s powers itself lifting.

The trial had ended.