The echo of the two-ton giant bell's crash was no longer just a sound; it was a physical blow that tore through the stability of the air molecules at the summit of the Campanile di San Marco. Its sonic wave slammed into Mateo Rossi's chest, forcing him to stumble backward as his lungs seemed to collapse for several seconds. Centuries-old red brick dust rained down from the tower's ceiling, creating a thick, stinging haze that obscured the view of the Venetian dawn just peeking over the eastern horizon.
Amidst the dust cloud, Mateo coughed, thick blood oozing from his intensely ringing ears. He tried to focus his vision, searching for the figure who had just shed his death mask. Zero. His own clone stood upright, completely unfazed by the bell's vibrations, which were strong enough to rupt
