Evan’s POV

  “Woah, that took a while… Been a minute, huh, Reid? Or should I say… Evan.”

  The voice cut through the air like a knife, and everything inside me shook for a second.

  He knew.

  Everything.

  About me. My past. My real name.

  But thankfully, thanks to my Pain Immunity skill, my poker face was flawless. Cool, composed. On the outside, I looked like a man waiting for tea. On the inside, I was screaming into a pillow.

  Aisha: Evan… the thing you’re scared of the most is… yourself?

  Her private message popped up as I instinctively looked toward the VIP booth. She was watching me with narrowed eyes, half-curious, half-concerned.

  Evan: I DON’T KNOW! This doesn’t make any sense!!

  The guy—no, the thing wearing my original body—kept going.

  “What’s wrong? Speechless? Overwhelmed by the sight of such a stunningly handsome man?”

  He struck a dramatic pose, hand resting on his hip like he was about to drop an album.

  I… relaxed.

  Yeah, okay. He’s definitely me.

  “Damn, buddy,” I said, matching his energy. “You’ve got me confused with someone else—but I am speechless. That is one incredibly handsome man.”

  He nodded graciously. “Thank you. I'd say the same about you.”

  I bowed. “Why, thank you, my good man.”

  Aisha: I don’t know what you two are on about, but I suddenly feel the need to punch you in the face, Evan.

  Alright. Enough of that. Back to business.

  I straightened up, cleared my throat, and put on my fanciest noble accent.

  “You said something that has piqued my curiosity, charming stranger whom I absolutely do not know.”

  He placed a hand over his heart. “Ah! A cultured gentleman. Please, do inquire.”

  “Well, my fellow refined individual—when you entered, you called me Reid… and then Evan. But surely, you must be mistaken. My name is, and has always been… Big Dick Richard.”

  He paused with a smile, as if he were savoring the moment. Then:

  “Ah. A foolish slip of the tongue, good sir.” He spread his arms wide with dramatic flair. “But alas, I know all your secrets… Big Dick Richard.”

  He tilted his head slightly, now speaking with mock regret. “And while it pains me, I must inform you of a few… inconvenient truths. You see, I am merely a summoned beast.”

  “Oh jolly ho!” I gasped. “Pray, do continue!”

  “It seems you’ve forgotten something very important, my good man.”

  “Oh blimey! Do refresh my memory, dear sir!”

  Behind him, Itla just blinked—visibly struggling to follow any of this. She raised a hand, finally interrupting.

  “Okay, I’ve seen many strange things in my life, but… this?” She gestured vaguely between the two of us.

  “This is the first time I’ve ever been this confused. Why are you not scared of this guy?”

  “Oh my!” I said, fiddling with my goggles like some kind of overly dramatic Victorian scientist. “Why would I be scared of this jolly good fellow?”

  He shook his head slowly, expression darkening. “No, no—she has a point. You should be scared of me. Since you don’t remember anything.”

  That made me blink. “I don’t remember anything? What do you mean?”

  His grin widened—and I mean full villain monologue levels of wide. “I’m not talking about your fake amnesia. I’m talking about the real gaps in your memory.”

  Then his voice dropped just enough to send a chill down my spine. “You know… since the real me took over your body in the first place and sent your soul over to Rei—”

  BOOM!

  I shot him in the face.

  Didn’t even hesitate. I had whipped up a mana gun on the spot, dumped all my MP into damage, and pulled the trigger like a man possessed.

  The impact snapped his head all the way back. No blood. Probably because he was a summon. Or a fake. Or a magical eldritch plot device. Honestly? Didn’t care.

  I just couldn’t let him finish that sentence. Couldn’t take the chance that anyone in the arena—especially my family—would hear that.

  Even a hint of doubt that I wasn’t really Reid? That I was just some guy hijacking his body?

  Nope. Unacceptable.

  ...But wait.

  If he knew that—Doesn’t that mean he knows everything about me?

  Oh no.

  Maybe… maybe that’s why Itla’s Nightmare magic summoned my original body.

  Because he knows all my secrets.

  Oh god no.

  My one weakness in this world.

  Dammit, Itla’s magic is no joke.

  He had to die. He was too dangerous.

  …Wait, hold on—What was that he said about “gaps” in my memory?

  Aisha: EVAN! YOU JUST SHOT YOURSELF IN THE FACE!

  Evan: Trust me. I have a 100% legitimate reason for kurt combaining myself.

  I had a lot to process. Like, a lot. But I didn’t get the chance—

  Because the other me? He just… slowly arched back upright.

  And I saw it—My mana bullet, stuck between his teeth.

  Still grinning.

  {Author note: Holy shit, Lore accurate Evan.}

  He casually spat the bullet out like it was an olive pit. “What was that for? You didn’t let me finish.”

  I adjusted my imaginary tie. “Nothing personal, my good man. But you’re in the way of me becoming the strongest wizard alive.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Well… you’re talking to the strongest wizard in all history.”

  I blinked. He blinked.

  We both processed what that meant.

  And then—simultaneously—

  We smiled.

  Two egos.

  One battlefield.

  One absolutely unnecessary but incredibly stylish showdown was about to begin.

  The battle of a lifetime.

  Against myself.

  3rd person Pov

  A tense aura blanketed the entire arena like a thick fog.

  Aisha was on the edge of her seat in the VIP booth, her eyes locked onto the battlefield below. Her usual smirk was gone—replaced by a tight-lipped expression, worry dancing behind her gaze. She wasn’t watching a regular fight anymore.

  She was watching her friend face down a fake version of his original self.

  The rest of Evan’s allies wore similar expressions—tense, uncertain, holding their breath.

  All except for Hope and Faith, who were bouncing with excitement. They clung to the edge of the balcony, giggling and waving like it was another one of their papa’s fun magic shows. Completely unaware of the stakes. Completely unaware that this time… he could lose.

  The tension crackled in the air.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  And then—finally—it snapped.

  In perfect unison, both Evans made their move.

  They both moved their left hand grabbing their right as if trying to stop an all too powerful move, and then, their right hands fingers moved into position—index finger touching their thumb, as the remaining three fingers stretched outwards.

  It was too perfect. Calculated. Like they’d rehearsed it a hundred times in some mirror.

  “Domain Expansion.” They said it together.

  Their voices echoed across the arena like a ritual incantation.

  An invisible shockwave burst out from both of them, sending dust and debris flying in all directions. The pressure in the air shifted, making even the spectators hold their breath.

  Evan sneakily tossed a small mana ball to the side of the arena. It hit the ground and exploded upward into a comically elaborate tower, complete with sparkles and magical fanfare.

  At the tower’s center: a spinning wheel—like a cheap carnival game—divided into two halves. The right side was labeled with Evan’s signature glowing blue. The left, with the fake Evan’s ominous crimson.

  It was all fake, of course.

  Just a bit. A dramatic, over-the-top show—for each other.

  Two clowns in their own world, going all in.

  “Commit to the bit!” Evan shouted, striking a pose.

  “Or you’re gay,” the fake Evan followed, arms crossed, a huge grin on his face.

  From the booth, Aisha’s jaw dropped.

  Aisha: Since when could you form Domain Expansions!?

  She practically smashed the private message button.

  Evan: You surprised? Sadly, I cannot teach you such powerful and reality-defying magic. As It only works against one person.

  Aisha: Who??

  Evan: Me.

  At that moment, Aisha realized something horrifying.

  There was no magic involved. No forbidden spell. No reality-warping incantation.

  Just two certified lunatics putting on a show… With their actual lives on the line.

  “First to score two points wins,” said the real Evan, his expression calm but full of fire.

  “Loser will be gay and has to kill himself,” said the fake Evan, nodding solemnly like this was some ancient sacred law.

  They both smiled like idiots.

  And then—

  “Cowboy Showdown!” the real Evan shouted.

  “Medieval Sword Duel!” shouted the fake one right after.

  Immediately, the spin-the-wheel in the center sprang to life, its pointer whirring around wildly, the lights blinking like a game show finale.

  After a few seconds, the needle clicked… And landed on the right side.

  Evan’s side.

  Without missing a beat, both Evans locked eyes, grinning.

  “American Style! Stage Two! It’s High Noon!” they shouted in sync.

  Suddenly, tumbleweeds made of mana rolled dramatically across the arena.

  Both Evans were instantly dressed in cowboy hats, with mana revolvers strapped to their hips.

  This time, a full-on clocktower spawned next to the wheel—because why not escalate?

  They squared up, staring each other down like dueling hawks, the tension thick enough to cut.

  “This town ain’t big enough for the two of us,” Evan said, narrowing his eyes.

  “Even across the multiverse, only one Evan shall remain. Two Evans will always tear the space-time continuum apart.”

  “Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

  The clocktower rung.

  “DRAW!”

  They both shouted and drew their revolvers.

  Two mana bullets fired at the same time—colliding midair in a burst of light and static.

  Both bullets were destroyed. Both Evans cursed in perfect unison.

  “Damn it!”

  All their props vanished in a puff of mana smoke as the wheel began spinning again.

  “Hot Potato!” shouted Evan.

  “Slap Fest!” the other Evan countered immediately.

  The wheel spun.

  Clicked.

  Landed on Evan’s side again.

  The fake Evan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I’m getting the sneaking suspicion that wheel is weighted.”

  “Arguments of a sore loser, my friend!” Evan shouted with glee, holding up a glowing, football-sized mana ball that appeared in his hand. “Whoever holds the mana ball when the timer ends wins!”

  The fake Evan blinked. “Wait! Isn’t Hot Potato about throwing the potato, not holding it!?”

  “Not this one!” the real Evan yelled as he immediately turned and sprinted away.

  “Oh, you bitch!” the fake Evan screamed as he chased after him.

  And just like that, the arena devolved into pure chaos—Two of the strongest in the world, running in circles like children, shouting, throwing magic around and laughing while playing magical tag with a ball of explosive energy.

  Up in the royal booth, the King and Queen exchanged slow, confused glances.

  “Are we… watching a duel?” the Queen asked cautiously.

  “Or is this… theater?” the King added.

  Meanwhile, their daughter Daisy tried to disappear under the table again, realizing with soul-crushing clarity that she was the one who recommended Evan to them in the first place.

  “Why did I vouch for this man…” she whispered to no one.

  Finally, the timer hit zero.

  Evan proudly held the mana ball high over his head, grinning like he’d just saved the world. “Alright! One for me, zero for you!” he declared triumphantly.

  “If I get another win—you lose, and you’re gay. Which means you have to kill yourself.”

  “Hey! I’m the one spinning the wheel this time!” fake Evan protested, crossing his arms.

  The real Evan clicked his tongue like a cartoon villain, before the Fake Evan summoned a mana ball, tossing it into the air. It exploded into another Spin-The-Wheel structure, which immediately started spinning.

  “Dance Off!” shouted the real Evan.

  “Sword Duel!” yelled the fake Evan at the same time.

  The needle spun… clicked… and stopped on the fake Evan’s side.

  Without hesitation, both conjured glowing magic swords, locking into full anime-mode.

  “First one to fall is the loser!” the fake Evan declared, lunging forward like a knight possessed.

  Evan narrowed his eyes, his grin stretching across his face.

  He raised his arm, and with casual flair, blocked the attack using his invisible shield, parrying the blow with almost no effort.

  But then—

  Fake Evan suddenly conjured a gun mid-swing and pulled the trigger.

  Time slowed.

  Real Evan barely dodged, twisting at the last second as the bullet zipped past him—way too close to the totem hidden in his inventory.

  “HEY!” Evan barked. “I thought this was a sword fight! Not a do-whatever-the-hell-you-want fight!”

  “Arguments of a sore loser, my friend!” the fake Evan shouted with glee, brandishing his sword and pointing it at the real Evan. “As long as you’re using a sword, it’s totally fine!”

  “Oh, you bitch,” Evan muttered, rolling his eyes before gripping his weapon tighter.

  He activated his invisible Shield of Cthulhu and charged forward like an angry train.

  As he moved, he imbued his mana blade with a Mana Ball enhanced with shockwave, preparing for a knockout first strike.

  Fake Evan responded instantly, raising his gun and firing—but the real Evan blocked the bullet effortlessly with his shield, sparks flying as the mana projectile deflected off its surface.

  With a roar, Evan slammed his blade down into the arena floor.

  CRACK!

  The sword shattered, and the arena beneath them splintered like glass.

  Unfortunately, fake Evan leapt away at the perfect moment, narrowly dodging what could’ve been a very terminal haircut.

  Since Evan’s sword was made from mana, it couldn’t take a second hit.

  He quickly spawned another, but in that exact second—

  Fake Evan started shooting again, but Evan blocked each shot with his shield, dashing forward between blasts.

  He closed the gap and triggered another shockwave burst attack, making the fake Evan jump back.

  “Pffft, I won’t let you hit me, man!” the fake Evan yelled, suddenly tossing a mana ball onto the ground.

  The whole arena instantly froze over, turning the battlefield into a slippery ice rink of doom.

  “Pfft. Ice is always nice,” Evan grinned. “You think that’s gonna stop me?”

  He launched his grappling hook, skating across the ice like a pro. Momentum was his now.

  He zipped in close, ready to strike—

  But fake Evan slammed his sword into the ground, releasing a massive shockwave.

  BOOM!

  Evan took the hit, knocking him mid-air and backward across the ice.

  A glowing red “-22” popped up above him.

  but he wasn’t worried. Instead, he activated the charge from his shield mid-air, flipping his momentum forward instead of backward, and launched himself straight toward his enemy.

  Unfortunately for fake Evan… His sword was still jammed in the ground.

  “Oh poop,” he muttered.

  And then—

  SLAM!

  Evan’s blade exploded on contact, sending fake Evan flying across the arena and crashing into the coliseum wall with a thunderous impact.

  A trail of smoke and glittering mana followed behind him like confetti at a victory parade.

  Evan’s POV

  “By default,” I said, casually brushing some imaginary dust off my shoulder, “you lose the match if you leave the arena.”

  I pointed dramatically at the fake Evan, like I was announcing the final twist in a courtroom drama.

  “Which means… I get two points. And I win by default.”

  Then I dropped the real bomb.

  “Which means you’re the gay one… and therefore, you must kill yourself.”

  I turned to Itla, who still looked like she was buffering.

  “Itla, your magic has been defeated. It’s probably best if you just… forfeit.”

  She just stared at me.

  Like, really stared at me. A solid five seconds of raw, unblinking confusion.

  Her mouth opened slightly. “H-How…?” she whispered. “How much mana do you have!? How are you not out of it yet?! The only one with that kind of mana pool is supposed to be Aisha! The Hero of Magic!”

  Oh.

  So that’s why she looked like someone just unplugged her brain.

  I shrugged. “Well, the truth is… the game was rigged from the star—”

  I didn’t even get to finish.

  Because something weird started happening to the fake me standing just outside the arena.

  His body twitched. Then jerked. Then started twisting around like he was being puppeted by a really aggressive ghost.

  “…Uhhh, Itla? Is that normal?”

  “Huh?” she blinked, just as confused.

  We both turned to look at the fake Evan, just in time to see a glowing mark burn itself into his forehead.

  I froze.

  I knew that symbol.

  “Is that… the Stardust Emblem?” I mumbled to myself.

  My eyes narrowed as I stared at the familiar, glowing blue-and-white four-pointed star—straight from the Stardust Pillar in Terraria.

  The same one tied to the summoner class.

  The same one that shows up at the end of the world.

  Aisha: Evan! What’s going on!? Why does the other you have the Stardust Emblem!?

  I was about to reply—But then he started speaking.

  “You know,” he said, voice dripping with casual menace, “it was fun fighting you… but there’s no chance in hell I’m walking out of here with the title ‘gay.’”

  And then, without warning, he raised his fists.

  Both hands, one on top of the other—And the second he did, a glowing circular plaque formed between them.

  Etched into it: the image of Cthulhu, three glaring eyes and all. Surrounding it were the symbols of the four Celestial Pillars.

  Stardust. Solar. Vortex. Nebula.

  Oh no.

  My body moved before my brain could even finish forming the words—

  “Oh sh—”

  From the booth, I heard Aisha scream like her soul had just been drop-kicked “Itla! Cancel the summon this instant!!”

  Couldn’t even blame her for the freakout.

  Because the thing in fake Evan’s hands? That wasn’t just any shiny trinket.

  It was the Celestial Sigil—the item that summons the Moon Lord, the final boss of the actual Terraria endgame.

  As in, the “you’re screwed” kind of final.

  “With this sacred treasure—I summon!” he roared, his voice echoing through the arena like he was starting a cutscene.

  I was already running towards him, I even threw my grappling hook straight at him, trying to stop him before he could activate it.

  But it was already too late.

  “Big Raga, the OP-stopper!” he yelled.

  A second later—

  A massive, pale hand descended from the sky like the wrath of a god and SLAMMED into the arena between us, shaking the ground so violently it cracked the stone beneath our feet.

  Oh. God. No.

  I didn’t even bother looking up.

  Instead, I looked at Itla—who was staring skyward, her face pale, her eyes wide, frozen with pure, unfiltered terror.

  “Itla! Cancel your magic! NOW!” I screamed at her, my voice cracking with urgency.

  Aisha was already sprinting toward her from the booth, screaming the same thing.

  It finally snapped Itla out of her fear—just enough for her to start unraveling the magic.

  But again… too late.

  A blast of otherworldly magic came from behind the massive hand, slamming into Itla mid-chant and launching her like a ragdoll.

  She crashed into the wall hard—completely knocked out.

  “Ahhh fudge-shickles…” I muttered.

  Finally, I looked up.

  And there he was.

  The Moon Lord.

  Skin a sickly, pale blue, tentacles writhing all over his body like something out of a horror manga.

  But just like in the game, he wasn’t fully complete—his body ended at the torso. His ribcage wide open, revealing a glowing green heart pulsing in the center of his chest.

  A full-on nightmare, brought to life.

  “This is a nation-wide emergency!” Aisha screamed at the top of her lungs. “EVERYONE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!”

  She sprinted up to join me as we both stared at this literal end-of-the-world situation.

  And then I saw it.

  Fake Evan had already climbed up the colossal hand and was now sitting casually on the Moon Lord’s shoulder like some kind of demon overlord on break.

  “Now…” he shouted from above, arms spread with manic glee, “Let’s have some real fun!!”

  The Moon Lord let out a roar so loud, the ground beneath us shook like an earthquake, and the skies themselves darkened.

  “I have the Moonlord with me Evan!” He shouted from on top so far that I couldn’t even see him properly. “What do you have!?”

  “You know what I have?” I pointed towards Aisha. “A woman.”

  {Author Note: Why did... Why did he say it like she's the tie breaker.}