Glitch Clone Trooper Novels & Stories

But Amara’s gaze stayed locked on the clone — the one that looked like her. “Why did they make you?” she whispered. The clone smiled faintly. “Because you wouldn’t kneel.” Before Amara could react, the clone’s hand pressed against the glass — and shattered it with inhuman strength. The explosion of pressure sent Amara flying backward. Luca caught her mid-fall as Cassian opened fire. Bullets tore through the chamber, but the clone didn’t fall — she absorbed them, her body healing as fast as it was breaking. “Retreat!” Cassian shouted.

The floor vibrated, a low whine rising as the containment units began to overload. “Thirty seconds!” she yelled. Elias pulled himself up, wiping blood from his mouth. “Adrian—move!” Adrian twisted free just as the pod behind them exploded in a burst of white steam and sparks. The clone staggered back, disoriented. Adrian looked at him — at the same face, the same eyes, but hollow and lost. For a second, he almost felt pity. Then the clone looked up at him and whispered, “You’re the mistake.” The ceiling lights shattered. Darkness fell.

She looked into the pod, into those mirrored eyes, and pressed her hand against the glass. Nyx tilted her head mimicking the motion. Alma whispered, “I’m not your enemy. You were made in pain. But you don’t have to become it.” The clone blinked. Slowly. Then moved her hand to mirror Alma’s. Outside the glass, the enhanced soldiers froze. Glitched. Twitched. Then collapsed. All at once. Dead silence followed. Petra exhaled. “What the hell did you just do?” Roman lowered his weapon. “She linked. Neural imprint. The clone recognized her original.”

The boy paused. Then stepped aside. Inside, the space was colder, lit with wall-mounted panels salvaged from old solar rigs. Machinery cluttered the corners—half-built drones, stripped weapons, cooling vents that leaked steam and oil. She emerged from the shadows like a spider. Madam Glitch looked like someone who had survived five different lives and didn’t like any of them. One arm was entirely mechanical, long fingers clicking against each other. Her face was lined, unreadable. A jagged coil ran from her left temple into a metal collar around her neck.“You brought something,” she said flatly.

But as it hit the iron blade, it began to smoke. **[ERROR: UNAUTHORIZED DATA MODIFICATION]** **[CRITICAL FAILURE: NARRATIVE CORRUPTION DETECTED]** I slammed the bloody sword into the ground. "I am Kaima!" I roared. "And I am the **Glitch**!" A wave of black static erupted from the sword. It wasn't beautiful. It was terrifying. It looked like ink spilled on a painting, spreading out and erasing the silver suits, the white staffs, and the perfect faces of the Shareholders.

With several concerns in mind, He couldn't sleep well the entire night. The next day he woke up with sleepy eyes and realized his clone was trying to communicate with him from inside Glitch. Clone Drift was a nice ability, but it had some limitations too. Creed could not just swap position with his Clone anywhere, the swapping position worked under a limited distance, about 20 km. However, he can talk to other clones at much larger distances without needing to worry about the 20km range. Soon He packed his bags and went back to Glitch. Manticore's egg has finally hatched. —

Tomorrow night come hell or high water we would take Vargr down. I had eighteen Gladiators that I was able to initiate last night, and I’ll be damned but each one that became pack was able to link with me. Their chips were still active, so they couldn’t shift, but whatever loophole granted us to be able to communicate mentally, I was thankful for. I didn’t have to understand it; I just had to accept it. This made shit a whole heck of a lot easier. Two Gladiators went into the ring and only one came out. The one that died was not a great loss. It happened to be one of the men who tried to violate Rogue, one that I had not initiated and had no intentions to.

Gasping for breath, Damian looked down at his opponent, victorious. But then, a strange shimmer flickered in the air. The clone’s body pulsed, glowing with a strange light. He gasped, eyes fluttering, then suddenly, his form shifted again, disappearing into a flash of light. A second clone, smaller, younger, with a wicked grin, stood in his place. Damian’s eyes widened. “What the, ?” Before he could react, the clone lunged, grabbing Damian by the collar, forcing him into a tight, brutal embrace. The clone’s cold voice whispered into his ear.

And most terrifyingly, he saw Themselves. ​Floating in the violet mist were "Draft-Clones"—beings who looked like Kael and Nora but were frozen in moments of failure. One Kael was still Muted, his mouth sewn shut by silver wire. Another Nora was a cold, mechanical drone of the Sovereign-Swarm. ​"They’re the versions of us that gave up," Nora said, her voice trembling. "The versions where the 'Friction' wasn't enough." ​Suddenly, the mist began to coalesce. Out of the wreckage of a "Failed Chapter 50," a figure emerged. He looked exactly like Kael, but his "Bloom-Armor" was black, and his pulse-cane was a jagged shard of obsidian.

Lila turned in shock. It was another Harper clone — not fully conscious, but guided remotely by Riley’s systems. The clone lunged toward Lila. Impossible… she made another one? Cade grabbed the clone, struggling, but the thing was stronger than a normal human. Lila acted quickly, using Harper’s reflexes combined with her own strategy to strike the clone in a critical nerve point. Sparks and a muffled scream — the clone collapsed. Riley’s face contorted in fury. “Stop! You’re not supposed to beat them!”