Charles stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the cellar wall, his posture tense and vigilant. Every sense was on high alert, ready to respond to the slightest threat. His brows remained furrowed in a permanent scowl.
Opposite him in this basement room were two other officers—the very ones who had once hunted him ruthlessly in Old Town and beaten him unconscious. Their presence created a palpable atmosphere of tension. Though they now worked together, there was no pretense of trust between them—it would be more accurate to say they deeply disliked one another.
In the silence of the basement, Charles occasionally glanced sideways at the two officers. The larger one stood directly before the towering mirror—its reflective surface showing nothing of the living—while the smaller man lurked to one side, one hand in his coat pocket and the other free.
"What are you staring at?" the smaller officer snapped.
"Why, is looking at you forbidden?" Charles retorted. "Don't act so precious, like some bashful maiden."
"Big talk. Look at those furrowed brows—who's really about to explode here?"
Charles raised an eyebrow slightly, responding, "Well, you must be mistaken. Perhaps the poor lighting in this room is affecting those bean-sized eyes of yours. No wonder you arrested the wrong person back in Old Town."
"With a face that screams 'criminal' like yours, anyone would have beaten you on sight."
Their exchange crackled with bitter hostility, yet both men remained at their posts, vigilantly watching for any movement or sound. Throughout their argument, the large officer kept his eyes fixed on the mirror without even glancing at them. Neither Charles nor the smaller officer attempted to draw him into their dispute. They each clearly separated their personal grudges from their assigned duties.
The large man's expression remained serious and focused. He knew that even a split-second of inattention—taking his eyes off the mirror—could be fatal for those inside. The slightest lapse might allow some new danger to break loose from that solitary gateway.
Then, the large officer raised his hand slowly in a silent signal. "Switch."
Charles pushed away from the wall and moved closer to the mirror. His gaze locked onto its glossy surface that reflected only the faint shadows of light in the room, not him or anyone else present. "In position," he said quietly.
Seeing that Charles was ready, the large officer carefully stepped back, relinquishing his post to rest against the far wall. The smaller officer who had just argued with Charles fell silent. No more verbal jabs or provocations. Perhaps he understood that now was not the time for petty digs. Everything depended on unwavering focus, and he grudgingly accepted that Charles needed complete concentration.
Though inner resentment still simmered within him, the smaller officer forced himself to remain calm, biting back any stray insults. Instead, he turned toward the large man now resting in the corner.
"How do you think it's going in there?" he asked softly.
The large man straightened slightly before answering, "I can't really say, but Madame Esther is an Ascendant of Supernatural rank who has undergone three separate Elevation rituals to reach that level. Along with her are Commander Edward and Professor Lawrence who went in earlier. Whatever's happening in there, they should be capable of handling it."
The other officer shook his head slightly and sighed. "That may be true, but we still have no idea how many Ascendants the enemy has... or how powerful they might be."
"They certainly don't have anyone at Grand Vitalis level," the large man reasoned. "If they did, they would have already emerged from the mirror and overwhelmed us by now."
"Hmm, you have a point," the smaller officer muttered, glancing thoughtfully at the mirror. "But why hasn't the Supreme Commander gotten involved in this operation? If he were here, we would have finished this job ages ago."
A faint smile appeared on the large man's lips. "You know as well as I do that the Supreme Commander doesn't participate in these kinds of missions, and nobody can force him to—not even the King himself." His voice carried a mixture of respect and awe.
"He only acts personally when a Grand Vitalis-level catastrophe threatens the kingdom. No one really knows why he agreed to serve as Commander, but his presence has saved our kingdom from destruction more than once."
At that moment, the sound of multiple footsteps echoed from above, growing louder as they approached the cellar door. The two officers exchanged a quick glance without speaking before simultaneously pulling handkerchiefs from their pockets. With swift, practiced movements, they flicked the cloths, transforming them into razor-sharp blades, and adopted ready stances for potential combat.
Though they expected reinforcements, they took no chances when dealing with a cursed object that could unleash unpredictable horrors at any moment.
The footsteps continued to approach, echoing through the narrow corridors of the old mansion. Both men tightened their grip on their swords, eyes fixed on the cellar door. They waited calmly, using the tension to sharpen their focus rather than letting it rattle them.
Shortly after, the cellar door opened, revealing a group of Special Unit personnel—likely the reinforcements Edward had summoned. Recognizing their fellow officers, the two guardians lowered their swords slightly, exchanging small smiles of relief.
The newcomers acknowledged them with brief nods. The pair who had been standing guard moved aside, allowing the newcomers to enter cautiously. One of them called out to Charles, who remained fixated on the mirror, "Reinforcements have arrived."
Charles nodded slightly but never took his eyes off the mirror. He merely shifted his position a bit to give the newcomers space. They lined up before the massive mirror, each wearing a solemn expression. Following Edward's instructions, they carefully placed their hands against the mirror's cold surface and closed their eyes.
Immediately, the rigid surface began to ripple like molten lead, drawing them in one by one. Charles watched intently as each figure was absorbed into the mirror's liquid shimmer. He observed how it quivered in gentle waves that responded to each person's passage. Gradually, the entire reinforcement squad disappeared into that other dimension, leaving no trace behind.
The cellar fell silent again, broken only by the faint, pulsing gleam of the mirror. Charles stared at it for a long while before signaling, "Switch."
Now it was the turn of the smaller officer—his recent verbal sparring partner. He stepped forward, eyes fixed on the mirror. There was no trace of their earlier hostility in his expression now, only grim determination.
"In position," he stated firmly.
Charles acknowledged the other man's readiness with a nod. He moved away to rest in a quieter corner, allowing his replacement to concentrate on the mirror. Tension hung thick in the air, and everyone present understood that absolute focus was critical. Any lapse could endanger their colleagues battling in the mirror's dimension.
...
Inside that dimension, everything appeared inverted—like a reversed reflection. Familiar halls and rooms seemed eerily flipped, and sunlight streamed through the mansion's tall windows despite it being midnight in the real world. The scene had an uncanny, dreamlike quality.
In a grand hall, Joseph stood surrounded by a ring of enemies. One hand stretched toward a fallen sword on the floor. Around him, time itself seemed suspended in a small radius—foes frozen in mid-charge, half-throw, or preparing a slash. They were locked in place, captured in the momentary stasis that Joseph's power created.
He fixed his gaze on the dropped sword and spoke in a firm voice, "Garanú!"
A strange chorus—simultaneously masculine and feminine—resonated in his words, echoing through the room. The sword trembled, then shot across the floor into his outstretched hand. In that same instant, Joseph released his hold on time. Everything lurched back into motion.
The first attacker, blade held high, swung down at Joseph with lethal force. Joseph twisted aside with fluid agility, then retaliated with a precise slash that caught his foe in mid-strike. The man collapsed silently to the ground. Another enemy, seeing the sudden kill, hurled a throwing knife at Joseph's flank—but Joseph deflected it with his sword, sending it flying back to pierce the thrower's own shoulder. He, too, dropped to the floor in agony.
Joseph advanced on two more adversaries. They wavered, uncertain. Sensing their hesitation, Joseph gave them no time to regroup. He lunged, slicing into one man's leg. The blow struck bone with a sickening crunch, toppling him with a howl of pain. Almost simultaneously, the second man swung downward. Joseph stepped back just in time—the enemy's blade missing his face by a hair's breadth. Joseph spun, bringing his sword up in a swift arc. He caught the man across the neck, and a ragged gurgle escaped before that foe collapsed, lifeless.
Only one enemy remained. Though his eyes were wide with terror, he lunged forward in a final act of desperation. Joseph stood poised, waiting for the man to approach. In that last split second, Joseph moved like a shadow, swinging his sword in a deadly curve. The enemy's blade halted in midair, and its wielder stumbled forward with a deep gash across his chest.
As the final opponent fell to the ground, Joseph stood amid fallen enemies, his body splattered with blood and dust. His gaze was already fixed on the corridor beyond, calm and alert. He caught sight of movement in one corner—a figure trying to inch toward a small wall-mounted mirror, apparently attempting to escape. It seemed the Script-Decipherers knew that while the large mirror was the only entrance, any smaller mirror could serve as an exit from this distorted mansion.
The crucial information Edward had shared with Joseph upon his arrival was clear: "There's only one way in—the large mirror. But they can escape through any mirror in the building." This dimension was a twisted replica of the real mansion, mirrored and reversed, with corridors switched left-to-right. Every mirror inside functioned as a potential portal back to the real world.
Joseph was determined not to let them escape. Sword in hand, he moved silently toward the nearest enemy who was almost through a nearby mirror. Seizing his opportunity, Joseph slashed at the frame, causing it to crack. The mirror shattered, and a surge of force knocked the would-be escapee away from it.
"You won't get out," Joseph growled, his eyes intense. The remaining enemies in the room hesitated, indecision plain on their faces. Joseph quickly scanned the area, noting the positions of other mirrors. If he destroyed them all, he could limit their escape routes.
Suddenly, he received an urgent mental transmission from the officer guarding the basement entrance: "Two of them just escaped through the large mirror! Both are Ascendants!"
Joseph immediately realized he needed to change his plan. 'If they've made it to the real world, the guards outside are in danger.' Among those guards, only Charles was an Ascendant, and while there was another officer with magical abilities, a two-against-two fight with powerful opponents would be extremely risky.
He dashed toward the stairs leading to the basement, determined to reach the main mirror room. As he raced forward, Joseph witnessed a horrifying sight: one of his fellow operatives lay injured on the floor, his face contorted in agony. Then, as if seized by some dreadful power, the man's body began to separate—limbs, torso, and head all levitating apart as though forcibly dismembered. Even separated, the man's head emitted a ragged scream. His wide, terrified eyes locked onto Joseph.
"Help... me!" came the hoarse plea. But then his voice cut off as the disjointed body parts faded into nothingness, dissolving into a sickening void.
For a moment, Joseph stood frozen by the horror. But he quickly steeled his emotions—there was nothing he could do now. The man was far beyond saving.
Just then, Edward's voice reached him telepathically, crackling with urgency. "Joseph! Get to the main mirror! Protect those three outside—anyone left in this mansion is in danger if nobody keeps eyes on that portal!"
"Understood," Joseph responded mentally. He glanced around in time to see yet another victim—this one a member of the Script-Decipherers—suffering the same horrifying fate. Her body was torn into segments that drifted apart in the air. Though terror filled her eyes, her mouth stretched open in a silent plea. Then she, too, vanished into the same void, leaving behind only a dreadful silence.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Joseph sprinted onward. He had to reach the main mirror and stop this chaos before more lives were lost.