THE FIRST THING I NOTICE is the sound.
It's not footsteps. Not splashing. It's this slow, dragging ripple, like something wet being pulled across glass. The corrupted me straightens on the platform, joints bending in ways mine never have. In a way even those crazy yoga dudes cannot replicate. His head tilts too far, his neck popping once, twice.
The Temple air is thick, not humid but heavy, like I'm breathing through someone else's memory. Mysterious blue torchlight flickers off the black water that surrounds the platform, each reflection of me warped just slightly differently. Some are thinner. Some are older. One has eyes that glow the same deep cobalt as Nia's eyeliner.
If this was other times, I would stop and stare at all these weird, eerie versions of me; staring back at me like they did not have a single thought beneath those dark, soulless eyes. I'd get scared of them…me. But not this time. I did not just spend all these dull weeks at Brumdn Cove to cower at the first level.
Foras hovers close to my ear. "Hyung… that's not just a fight dummy. That's a Mirrorbind."
"Meaning?" I mutter, keeping my eyes on the thing.
"Meaning it's you — but not. It'll fight with what you are, and what you're hiding."
Fantastic. So an incompetent fighter and a sardonic loser.
Corrupted Rudra moves first.
There's no warning, of course, just a blur of motion as he launches forward, feet barely making a sound on the slick platform. I barely have time to twist aside, the wind from his strike brushing past my cheek. My boots skid on the damp stone; the texture is uneven, slick with moss. The echo of the impact rings in my ears as his hand smashes into the pillar behind me, leaving a spiderweb crack in the coral-lined surface.
Okay. He's fast. And definitely not fighting with what I am. I can barely lift those large water bottles back in the dorm.
I pivot, keeping distance between us. The air smells faintly metallic now, as if the mirror itself is bleeding into the room. The torches flare, their flames elongating like they're leaning toward us to watch.
"Hyung!" Foras yells from somewhere in the large room. I can't see him though. "Keep moving! Don't let it match your rhythm!"
Corrupted Rudra straightens. His movements mimic mine but his eyes… they're black glass, with hairline fractures that pulse faintly with pale blue light.
I test him with a quick feint to the left. He mirrors me exactly, except his strike comes faster, heavier. I duck under his arm, feel the rush of displaced air as his elbow swings just inches above my head, and roll back toward the center. The platform's edge drops directly into the still black water — no railing, no barrier.
For half a second, I catch my reflection in that water. It's not me. It's the corrupted version, smiling faintly.
He lunges again; this time low, sweeping a leg toward mine. I jump, but he uses the momentum to slam his shoulder into my chest mid-air. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs; I hit the ground hard enough that my palms sting. The platform's cold seeps instantly through my shirt.
Foras darts between us from god knows where, legs flailing. "HEY! Over here, glowstick!"
The corrupted me actually turns — not much, but enough for me to scramble to my feet. I use the moment to kick at the side of his knee. My heel connects with a satisfying thunk, but instead of buckling, his leg bends backward in a grotesque arc before snapping back into place with a wet pop.
"That's not okay," I mutter.
His answering grin is all teeth. For the first time in my entire life, I think I look ugly.
As the sparring progresses, the chamber shifts subtly. I can't see it but I can feel it. The water surrounding the platform ripples without wind. The torches dim, shadows stretching long and thin until they look like skeletal hands reaching across the floor.
"You feel that?" I call to Foras.
"Yeah," he says grimly. "The Temple feels agitated. Not good, hyung."
Sure enough, the black water starts to bubble. Figures rise from the surface — not solid, just watery silhouettes shaped like me, each holding something: a rusted spear, a curved blade, a length of chain. They don't step onto the platform; they just circle it—me with their weapon tips scraping the edge of the platform. It sounds like nails on ice.
I've seen this a million times in the old arcade near my house. And in the dungeon raid Shin Woo and I farmed during weekends when we had nothing better to do. Number versus tenacity. It's a pressure tactic. And it's working.
Corrupted Rudra tilts his head, then sprints forward again. This time, his form flickers mid-stride, a glitch in reality, and suddenly he's right in front of me. My instincts scream; I throw myself sideways, his strike grazing my shoulder. Even through the fabric, I feel the cold burn, like the touch of dry ice.
I stagger, pivot, and counter with an elbow aimed at his jaw. He catches it effortlessly, twisting my arm until pain shoots down to my fingertips. His free hand rises, glowing faintly with that pale blue light pulsing through his cracks.
The moment it touches my chest, a flash of images hits me.
Not mine.
Shin Woo's laugh. The flicker of our dorm room. Hanna in the corridor. My family at the dinner table.
Then it's gone. I shove him back, gasping.
Foras rushes to me from the side. "You okay?" He hovers anxiously.
"Define 'okay'."
"That's a no."
The corrupted me comes again, relentless, forcing me back toward the edge. Again, and again, and again. My boots slip; the water's surface is only a foot away now, its reflections writhing as if eager to pull me under.
I drop low, sweeping my leg out in a desperate gamble. This time, he falls just a fraction but enough for me to slam my palm into his chest and push him toward the center. His body hits the platform with a solid crack, the stone beneath him fracturing slightly.
But when he gets up, the cracks in his skin are wider. More light seeps through, spilling into the air like smoke.
"That's new," I mutter.
Foras's voice is tense. "Hyung… I think you're breaking it. But a faster break means faster pushback."
"Pushback?" He doesn't make any sense but I finally start to understand why the System left Foras around to annoy me.
As if on cue, the watery silhouettes on the edges lean forward, their weapons clattering against the stone. The sound echoes like a hundred whispers all at once.
Corrupted me charges again—but now his strikes are wild, each one leaving streaks of blue light in the air like afterimages. I dodge, parry, counter, my movements frantic and amateurish but measured. Every hit I land widens the cracks. Every hit he lands makes the room pulse, the torches flaring white-blue for a heartbeat before dimming again. My physical fitness was a failure of its own back in the team but all the years of athletic training finally proves to be of some help. I gasp harshly, each breath sounding like a smoker's wheeze but I stand my ground. And I fight back. But so does corrupted Rudra. Though now, the cracks in him run numerous, like a shattered cell-phone screen.
After what feels like eternity, with a desperate shove, I slam both palms against his chest and force him back into the mirror itself.
The glass doesn't break. It absorbs him.
Light explodes outward, flooding the room in blinding blue.
When my vision clears, the platform is whole again. The watery silhouettes are gone. The torches burn steady.
And in front of the mirror… is just me.
Except it isn't.
He stands there, perfectly still, wearing my face without the exhaustion. His eyes are sharp, unclouded. His posture is confident in a way mine never is.
"Pass," the System's voice murmurs in my mind.
The other me nods once, then steps backward into the mirror and disappears completely.
The surface ripples. Then stills.
Quest Progress: 1/3 Challenges Complete.
Foras drifts closer, legs still twitching from the fight. "Hyung… that was—"
"Too close," I say, rubbing my arm. "Way too close." I almost died.
He glances at the mirror. "You're not done. Whatever this Temple is, I think it's not just testing if you can fight."
I don't answer. Because deep down, I already know he's right.
And if the first challenge was about not lying…
I'm not sure I want to know what comes next.
t o b e c o n t i n u e d