How could this be? That face… Julius muttered to himself, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"You're living quite the life as Julius, aren't you?" a mocking voice echoed from the mirror.
Julius felt a chill run down his spine. He clenched his fists. "Living my life well? What nonsense…"
The reflection smirked, its eyes gleaming with something almost inhuman. "You once lived as Elias Corvin, but you lost so quickly to the Dark King. Kekeke… How amusing!"
Julius stiffened. "How do you know that? Are you… Elias Corvin?" he asked cautiously.
No—this didn't make sense. He had been reincarnated as Elias Corvin once before. And when he died at the hands of the Dark King, that life had ended. The body of Elias Corvin should have disappeared entirely… shouldn't it?
"Don't trouble yourself over such trivial thoughts, boy," the figure in the mirror sneered. "I am nothing more than the shadow of your past. You abandoned your life as Elias Corvin and now walk this world as Julius Cross. But the truth is... you are neither."
Julius' pulse quickened. The eerie familiarity of the voice, the unsettling certainty in its words—who, or what, was this?
"If you know so much about me… then tell me—what do you want?" he demanded. "And why do you appear in Elias Corvin's form?"
"You misunderstand," the reflection said, its tone laced with amusement. "I don't want anything from you. You were the one who came to me."
Julius gritted his teeth. Came to him? He hadn't even known this place existed—so what was this reflection trying to say?
"I merely reflect the buried memories within your heart," the reflection continued. Then, with a slow, deliberate grin, it added, "If you believe your life as Elias Corvin has ended… then you have misunderstood the game of fate. It has only just begun."
Julius felt his stomach drop. "The game of fate has just begun…?"
The words sent a ripple of unease through him. The way the reflection spoke—it wasn't just taunting him. It was certain.
"What the hell are you talking about?!" he shouted, his voice tinged with fear and frustration.
The reflection's grin widened. "Let me take you on a journey, then," it whispered darkly.
Without warning, the mirror flared with an intense, blinding light. The glow swallowed everything around it—Julius included.
"Damn it—!"
Instinctively, he raised his arms, trying to shield himself from whatever was coming. But the light only grew stronger, pulling him into its depths.
And then—everything went dark.
...
Julius Cross finds himself adrift in an endless expanse of mirrors. Every surface reflects fragmented visions—distorted echoes of his past, glimpses of his present, and haunting specters of a future he has yet to live. The air is thick and frigid, pressing against him like the confines of a colossal skull.
Then, without warning, the mirrors shift. They twist and contort, reshaping into an ever-shifting labyrinth of glass. From their depths, whispers slither forth, their voices threading into his mind like creeping tendrils.
"You are nothing but a shadow… Do you truly believe you deserve to leave?"
The mirrors surrounding Julius Cross shatter without warning, their fragments dissolving into the void. He finds himself standing in the center of a desolate battlefield, the sky overhead a bleeding crimson. Before him, a dark-haired man with crimson eyes—Phantomor—stands tall, clad in a deep violet robe inscribed with cryptic symbols.
Julius watches as Phantomor raises his hands. From beneath him, monstrous black tendrils emerge, writhing and coiling like living things. They lash out, tearing apart dragon-like beasts with human faces. The shadows devour their prey, their forms shifting and writhing in grotesque satisfaction.
A voice does not escape Phantomor's lips, yet Julius hears the whisper of the shadows:
"We hunger… more…"
The scene shifts. A dimly lit hall—cold, suffocating. Phantomor stands before a man cloaked in black, his face obscured save for two piercing, star-like blue eyes. The air thickens with an uncanny familiarity—Julius knows this man, though the reason eludes him.
Phantomor: "The spell will open the gate… but you played god. That is our sin."
The enigmatic figure chuckles, a sound that warps the very walls of the chamber, making them bleed shadows.
The Cloaked Man: "Sin? I shaped the darkness. I gave it form… and I granted you power."
Julius steps forward, but the ground collapses beneath him, dragging him into another memory.
Now within the confines of an ancient cathedral, Phantomor stands at the pulpit, his crimson eyes flickering with unease. Before him, a terrified congregation listens as he raises his voice:
"Scatter! The Dark Faction has betrayed us! They are coming to—"
Before he can finish, the stained-glass windows explode inward. From the swirling abyss beyond, that same eldritch shadow pours in.
Phantomor sprints through the fog-choked alleys of a city drowning in twilight. His own shadows shield him, twisting and shifting to intercept unseen threats. Yet—
A black blade pierces through his back.
His breath catches.
Turning his head, he meets the victorious gaze of Nycroth, the man from before. Those eerie, star-like blue eyes glimmer in amusement.
Phantomor: (bloodied fingers gripping the blade)"You… bastard… What did you do to my master?"
Nycroth: (tilting his head, almost playfully)"You don't need to know. After all, you're about to die."
Phantomor collapses in a withered forest, his blood staining the blackened grass. With his dying strength, he carves a circle adorned with a pentagram into the earth.
His breath ragged, his voice but a whisper:
"Ritual… Reincarnation… The cycle… must… continue…"
The sigil ignites with an eerie blue glow, and the sky weeps ashes.
The mirrors reform around Julius, but now—every reflection bears his face, fused with Phantomor's.
A frail, silver-haired figure whispers from the void:
"Do you see now? You are the echo… He is the origin."
Julius touches his face, his fingers trembling as, for just a moment—
His eyes burn crimson.
The Unanswered Question
Is Julius Phantomor reborn?
Or merely a vessel for his memories?
The cycle of shadows continues....