Max's expression turned grim as the reflection formed once again before him. The faint ripples of light that reassembled the copy seemed almost mocking now, glowing softly as if to remind him of his own helplessness.
He stood silently, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, though his eyes gleamed with cold fury.
He hadn't imagined it would be this persistent. No matter how many times he destroyed it—whether with flames, sword, or lightning—it simply came back to life. Again and again. Each time it fell, it reformed from the essence of the Mirror Lake as if nothing had happened.
It didn't even seem weakened by his assaults.
Every strike that could shatter mountains, every technique that could distort space, all of it amounted to nothing before this thing that refused to stay dead.
