Marcus cackled—a wild, untamed sound that echoed off the scorched stone walls of the corridor. His twin pistols rested in his palms like extensions of his own body—smooth, deadly, humming with latent power.
Without hesitation, he surged forward, flames licking at his boots as he darted across the blackened floor, covering vast distances in mere seconds. Trails of flickering embers marked his path like a blazing comet streaking through the darkness.
Then, from the swirling dust and shadows, four figures emerged. Their identities no longer mattered. Predator and prey was the only language Marcus understood now. The glint of steel and the cold hum of firearms told him everything: one wielded a sword, two hefted rifles, and the last gripped a heavy axe—each weapon reflecting the dim flickering light like a promise of imminent violence.
"Never thought I'd experience the thrill of the hunt again!" Marcus shouted, his voice thick with manic excitement, adrenaline surging through his veins.
His fingers danced over the pistols, runes blazing to life along the barrels, casting arcane sigils that shimmered like molten metal. The familiar rush of power coursed through him as he bellowed.
"Blightful Cinders!"
The barrels roared, spitting a devastating torrent of bullets fused with explosive and necrotic energy. The hailstorm of death tore through the figures—each shot precise, merciless. They crumpled instantly, souls spiraling upward as the system chimed in acknowledgment, absorbing them seamlessly into Marcus's growing arsenal.
[Souls Stored: 5/5]
Took them down like they were nothing, a bit anticlimactic but its better than nothing.
Without pausing, Marcus surged onward. Flames blazed hotter beneath his feet, propelling him like a comet through the dark corridor. At the end of the hall, a massive square chamber yawned open like a maw, ready to swallow him whole.
[Final Objective: Defeat Mirror]
"Mirror…?"
Marcus muttered, brows knitting in confusion—just as the ceiling above him shattered, collapsing inward with a cascade of stone and dust. Brilliant white light poured from a gaping void overhead, bathing the room in an otherworldly glow.
From the blinding rift, a figure dropped onto the rubble—a being pale and flawless as freshly fallen snow.
[Silas 'Master Assassin' Greenfield]
A system panel flickered above the figure's head. Marcus's eyes widened in shock. It wasn't an illusion—the silhouette, the movement, the presence all mirrored his past self with uncanny precision, like a ghost haunting his history.
"I expected something more original…" he muttered, lips curling into a crooked smirk.
"But I guess the biggest threat to me would only have to be myself."
His voice dripped with arrogant certainty as he unleashed his magic. The air around him quivered under the weight of his power. His pistols ignited with runic energy, glowing fiercely as if responding to their master's challenge.
Yet, a question gnawed at the back of his mind: How is this supposed to be a challenge? Sure, his former self was a beast at peak physical condition, but now he wielded something far more terrifying—magic.
"Well… whatever," he shrugged inwardly.
Marcus moved first, raising his pistols and firing. Bullets streaked through the air, enchanted with a deadly blend of explosive and necrotic forces. The mirror image responded fluidly, sidestepping with preternatural grace. Its face was a smooth, flat white mask betraying no emotion. It never broke eye contact.
Suddenly, the figure lunged—vanishing and reappearing directly before Marcus, arms wide, ready to seize him.
What the hell? He's fast!
Marcus reacted instantly, shifting the runes beneath his feet into the combustion rune. With a violent detonation, the ground erupted under him, hurling him across the room in a fiery blast.
"You're quite fast…" Marcus breathed, a smirk curling on his lips.
"Faster than even I am."
"What kind of mirror are you? Because if you're supposed to be a perfect copy, then you've already failed."
He laughed, the sound sharp and clear as he flicked his wrists. His pistols disintegrated into motes of dust and vanished into the air.
"Face me!" he challenged, his voice ringing through the chamber.
He activated his new power, eyes alight with fierce determination.
"Weavebound Construct!"
[Use Souls?]
So that's how this works.
Marcus laughed—a mixture of triumph and dark amusement. Black mist poured from his back, writhing like living snakes as it descended to the ground. One by one, the defeated enemies appeared before him—not as they were, but as dark specters, eyes glowing bright white, radiating a chilling aura.
They knelt, ready to serve their new master, guarding him with unwavering loyalty.