CHAPTER 525: JUST LIKE MIRROR

The illusion exploded forward, the ground beneath its feet splitting apart as it launched like a projectile cloaked in a storm of shadowfire. In the blink of an eye, Liam’s surroundings became a blur of chaos—blades of shadow and arcs of corrupted flame slashed through the air in every direction.

Liam barely managed to twist aside, his dagger scraping against one of the incoming projectiles before deflecting it into another. The collision erupted behind him in a storm of red-black fire that illuminated the sky in eerie hues. He barely had a second to breathe before the illusion was on him again, dagger flashing toward his throat.

Liam ducked low, pivoting to the side as he swung upward, sending a blast of compressed flame directly into the illusion’s midsection. The explosion went off like thunder—yet when the smoke cleared, the illusion had already vanished.

From behind—

Liam turned just in time to block. Sparks ignited between their daggers, and the air cracked like lightning as the illusion pressed forward with a relentless assault. The blows came too fast and precise—like a machine reading his every move. Liam countered, parried, twisted, but every reaction was met with perfect anticipation. His blade clashed again and again, each impact ringing through his arms like hammers on steel.

"Damn it—" Liam hissed under his breath, as another strike grazed his cheek, slicing through skin. Blood splattered, hissing as it hit the molten earth.

The illusion lunged again, shadows rippling like serpents from its back. They lashed at him from every direction, forcing Liam to ignite a dome of flame around himself to block the assault. The temperature spiked, the air bending and shimmering under the heat, but it wasn’t enough. The shadows tore through his barrier like claws through smoke.

Liam leapt backward, landing on a fractured slope of blackened stone. He extended his arm, releasing a burst of fire that swept through the terrain in a wide arc, melting the grass and creating a burning line between him and his doppelgänger. The illusion didn’t hesitate—it dashed straight through the flames, eyes glowing like crimson suns, unharmed.

"Predictable," the illusion said, its tone laced with arrogance as it slashed downward.

Liam raised his blade just in time, but the force of the blow cracked the ground beneath him. The shockwave sent him sprawling backward through the dirt. He rolled, barely regaining his balance before another volley of shadow projectiles came screaming toward him. He countered by igniting a pillar of fire that tore through the ground, detonating several of the attacks midair—but even then, the illusion was already behind him again.

Every attempt to gain distance, every shift in stance, every burst of myst—it read everything. Before Liam could even think of his next move, the illusion was already moving to intercept it.

He dashed left—blocked.

He swung low—parried.

He tried to feint—countered.

No matter what he did, the illusion reacted first, as if it was pulling his thoughts directly from his head.

A low growl escaped Liam’s throat as he spun his dagger in frustration, deflecting two more slashes before rolling out of reach. Flames surged from his hands, exploding in every direction to create space. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, and his mind raced.

’It’s reading me too damn perfectly,’ he thought as he clenched his teeth, his crimson eyes narrowing. ’Every thought, every reaction, it’s like it’s inside my head. Even when I try to switch tactics, it’s already there. What the hell is this?’

He ducked under another slash and countered with a flaming kick, but the illusion caught his leg, twisted it, and threw him into a nearby ridge. The impact split the rocks like glass, dust and molten fragments flying everywhere.

Liam forced himself up, flames coursing along his shoulders like a raging current. His breathing steadied, but his expression was grim. The illusion was walking toward him slowly now, unhurried, twirling its dagger between its fingers.

’I’m getting a feeling that it is not just predicting me,’ Liam realized, watching every stepa and every subtle motion. ’Feels like that bastard is... mimicking me. Copying me in real time.’

The thought hit him hard. He’d felt it before—how the illusion’s attacks weren’t random but perfectly synchronized with his flow, even sharing the same rhythm of breathing, the same slight twitch of muscle before each strike.

It didn’t seem like just an opponent or even illusion. It seemed more like a reflection.

The word sparked through his mind like lightning—reflection.

His eyes widened slightly as the memory surfaced: Aesmirius’s deep, echoing voice, calm yet foreboding.

"An illusion, by nature, is a reflection of what it truly is."

"Reflection..." Liam muttered under his breath, sliding one foot back as he brought his daggers up again. "A reflection... mirrors everything—but inverted."

That was it. That was the key.

A reflection mirrored movement, not predicted it. Which meant the illusion wasn’t just filled with Liam’s gained knowledge and experience which made it seem like it was reading his mind—it was also copying his movements as he made them, inverting them perfectly. And that was what made it steps ahead of Liam.

But in that instant of mimicry—just a fraction of a second—it had to adjust, to reverse. That tiny delay, that imperceptible flicker, was his opening.

’Alright,’ Liam thought, sidestepping a sweeping strike, the idea crystallizing in his mind even as he parried another barrage. ’If you’re really just a reflection... then let’s see how you handle inversion.’

The illusion pressed forward, launching another storm of shadows that carved through the terrain like blades. Liam responded with bursts of fire, igniting each shadow on contact. Every movement was fluid, each motion deliberate—he was testing the timing, gauging how quickly the illusion mirrored him.

’There... that flicker,’ Liam noticed as he blocked another dagger strike. The illusion mimicked his stance—identical—but a heartbeat later. ’It’s subtle, but it’s there.’

The battle grew fiercer. The ground trembled beneath their feet, the golden plains of Aesmirius’s domain now a scorched wasteland of glass and ash. Liam moved faster, his daggers spinning, flames coiling like serpents around him. The illusion met him blow for blow, still pressing the advantage—but now Liam’s eyes weren’t filled with frustration. They gleamed with calculation.

He needed confirmation.

With a deep breath, Liam gathered both his elements—darkness and flame—into a single, devastating strike. The power surged through his veins like molten lava, his blades glowing white-hot as shadow flared around them. He darted forward, closing the distance in an instant, and swung for the illusion’s neck—a strike meant to kill.

The illusion mirrored the motion perfectly, raising its weapon to parry, its lips curling into a confident grin.

But in that fraction of a second before impact—Liam saw it.

The illusion’s posture copied his. Its shoulders shifted, its balance adjusted—just slightly, but enough to confirm it.

’Got you.’

As their blades clashed, Liam didn’t follow through with the strike. Instead, he feinted—pulling his right hand back mid-motion and pivoting with his left, slashing horizontally.

The illusion, bound by its mimicry, mirrored the feint.

And that’s when Liam moved two times faster than he had before to twist his core and drove his knee up with explosive force, channeling his flames into his leg. The kick slammed into the illusion’s ribcage with the power of a volcanic eruption.

BOOM!

The explosion tore through the battlefield, a wave of fire and smoke consuming everything around them. The impact sent the illusion hurtling backward through the air, tearing through rock and dirt as a long trench carved itself across the land. Liam himself was flung backward several meters, his body flipping midair before landing hard and skidding to a stop.

Both figures were separated now—one standing amidst a halo of fire, the other buried beneath a storm of debris.

Liam’s chest heaved, his arm and leg trembling faintly from the recoil of his own power. He watched the cloud of dust and flame where his opponent had fallen, his expression sharp, eyes glowing faintly with the mix of red and black myst.

’So I was right... it mirrors me. Every move, even the flow of myst—it’s bound to my motion. If I can manipulate the rhythm, I can control the outcome.’

He tightened his grip on his dagger, flames flickering across the blade’s edge.

Then, the ground erupted.

The illusion burst out of the smoke, spinning through the air like a meteor. Shadowfire roared around it as it steadied midair, landing a few dozen meters away. Despite the scorched marks across its body, that same damned grin stretched across its face.

"Well now..." the illusion said, brushing dust off its shoulder with deliberate calm. "Finally catching on? Took you long enough to recognize yourself."

Liam didn’t respond. His stance lowered, eyes glowing brighter, his aura flaring like a living inferno.

The illusion grinned wider, tightening its grip on its twin daggers as it lunged forward once again—both figures charging, flame and shadow tearing across the ruined land as they closed the distance for the next, devastating clash.