Alexander: The Tale of the Last Human

Chapter 3: The Lonely Reflection

Chapter 3: The Lonely Reflection

The inside of the cave was silent, save for the faint rustle of wind howling through the narrow entrance. Alexander lay still on the cold stone floor, his body aching from exhaustion and hunger, but his mind couldn’t find rest. His thoughts drifted back to his father, to his clan, to the life he had been torn away from.

His body felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds, his limbs heavy and bruised. As the dim light from his spell, *[Blinding Light]*, flickered faintly beside him, he stared into the emptiness, feeling the oppressive weight of loneliness bearing down on him. He was only nine years old, a child—how could he possibly survive in this desolate wasteland?

But then his father’s voice echoed in his mind once again: *You must live, Alexander. No matter what happens, you must survive.*

The sharpness of the memory was like a blade in his chest. He missed his father. He missed everything—his home, his people, even the annoying lessons he used to have. But here he was, alone in a cave, no sign of life anywhere, no one to share the pain he was feeling.

Alexander pulled himself to his feet, groaning with the effort, and limped toward the back of the cave. His legs trembled beneath him, barely able to carry his weight, but he forced himself to move. He couldn't let despair overwhelm him.

That’s when he saw it.

In the faint light of his spell, something glinted at the far end of the cave. As he stepped closer, his heart froze in his chest. It was a skeleton—long since dried up and brittle, lying crumpled against the cave wall. The bones were thin and fragile, a pale white against the dark stone floor, remnants of a life long lost.

Alexander's breath caught in his throat, and he took a step back, horrified. He had never seen a dead body before, let alone one reduced to nothing but bones. His mind raced, thinking of all the stories he had heard as a child—of dark places filled with the dead, of souls wandering forever, trapped in places like this.

"W-what is this…?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands shook, and for a moment, panic surged through him. Was this his fate? To die alone in this cave, his body reduced to nothing but bones?

He looked away from the skeleton, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat. But as his eyes drifted, they landed on something else beside the bones—a book, its cover worn and faded. It was wedged beneath the remains, partially covered in dust, but still intact.

Carefully, Alexander crouched down and picked it up. The cover was rough under his fingers, and as he wiped away the dirt, he saw the title: **[Doppelganger]**.

Curiosity piqued, he opened the book and began to skim through its pages. The writing inside was ancient but legible, its words etched in a language he had been taught in his early lessons. The book described a strange and unfamiliar magic—a spell that could create a perfect copy of oneself, a mirror image called a doppelganger. According to the text, the user’s magic was evenly split between them and their doppelganger, sharing their power equally. The copy could bleed, cast spells, and even fight, but would vanish after taking a few solid blows or if the caster willed it to disappear.

Alexander’s eyes widened in astonishment. *A mirror image?* He had never heard of such a thing before. Magic in his world revolved around the elemental forces of fire, water, earth, wind, lightning, light, and darkness. These elements formed the core of every spell, the foundation of every human mage’s power. Sure, there were lesser-known magics—things like ice or sand manipulation—but none of them compared to the raw destructive force of the elements.

But this… this was something entirely different.

He couldn’t believe it. The idea that someone could create a physical copy of themselves—a living, breathing reflection that could think and act on its own—was unlike anything he had ever learned. It wasn’t just manipulation of nature; it was the manipulation of reality itself.

Alexander flipped through the pages of the book, his eyes scanning the descriptions and the method for casting the spell. It was surprisingly simple. All it required was a basic understanding of mana control, something even a child his age could grasp. Once the doppelganger was created, the caster's mana would be evenly distributed between the two, with each clone sharing a portion of the caster's overall power.

Alexander’s hands trembled as he read the words. For the first time since arriving in this wasteland, he felt something other than despair—he felt hope. Maybe, just maybe, this magic could help him. If he could create a copy of himself, it would be like having someone with him. He wouldn’t be alone anymore.

But as the excitement bubbled up inside him, a dark memory clouded his thoughts. The faces of his clan—the people who had been killed, slaughtered by the enemies of humanity. His father, who had fought so bravely against Ars Goetia and the four major races, only to be left behind, leaving Alexander to escape alone.

His heart clenched, anger and sorrow twisting inside him. He had been helpless back then, too weak to do anything but watch as his world fell apart. The memory of the bloodshed, the fire, the screams—it all came rushing back, filling him with a burning rage.

“I’ll make them pay,” he whispered, his voice low and trembling with anger. “I swear… I’ll make them all pay…”

But he was still weak. He had barely begun his magical training, and even though he knew how to use some Light Arts, like *[Blinding Light]*, it was a mere utility spell—nothing more than a glow to light his way. It had no offensive or defensive capabilities. Compared to the mages of his clan who could summon storms or hurl fireballs, Alexander was practically powerless.

But now… now he had this book. This spell. If he could learn it, maybe it would be enough. Maybe it could give him the edge he needed to survive.

His fingers tightened around the book, and without hesitation, he stood up. Determination filled his young heart as he stepped back into the open space of the cave. He didn’t care if he didn’t fully understand the spell. He had to try.

Flipping through the book to the section that described the incantation, Alexander focused on the words. It was a relatively short spell, but the concentration required was immense. He would have to channel his mana—his life force—carefully, splitting it in half to give to the doppelganger.

Closing his eyes, Alexander took a deep breath. He began to gather the mana inside him, pulling it from the core of his being. He could feel the familiar warmth of Light Magic, the flow of energy that coursed through his veins. It was faint, barely more than a spark, but it was enough.

“*[Doppelganger]*,” he whispered, his voice steady.

A strange sensation rippled through him, as though a part of him was being pulled away, split from his body. His mana divided itself, flowing outward into the air before coalescing into a shape—a figure that slowly solidified in front of him.

Alexander opened his eyes, and his breath caught in his throat.

Standing before him was… himself. A perfect mirror image. The doppelganger looked exactly like him—same height, same clothes, same bruised and battered appearance. Its eyes were dull at first, but as it blinked, they came to life, glimmering with a reflection of Alexander’s own soul.

“I… I did it…” Alexander whispered, astonished. He stepped closer, his heart pounding in his chest. The doppelganger didn’t move at first, but then it turned its head, meeting Alexander’s gaze.

“Hello?” Alexander asked hesitantly, unsure if it could respond.

The doppelganger smiled. It was a strange, soft smile, as though it were amused by something only it knew. Then, in a voice that echoed Alexander’s own, it spoke.

“Hello, Alexander.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. He could hardly believe it—this copy, this mirror of himself, was alive. It was more than just a reflection; it had a mind of its own, an awareness that mirrored his own thoughts and feelings.

Tears welled up in his eyes. For the first time since arriving in this forsaken place, he didn’t feel alone.

“I… I’ll call you… Echo,” Alexander said, his voice trembling with emotion. It wasn’t much of a name, but it felt right. Echo was a reflection of himself, a part of him brought to life.

The doppelganger—Echo—nodded, accepting the name with a gentle smile.

And in that moment, Alexander felt a small, fragile spark of hope. He wasn’t alone anymore. Even in this desolate, harsh land, he had found a companion. A part of himself, yes, but still a friend.

Together, they would survive.