Time soon passed and while the mirror trick worked, it was equally exhausting work.
Damien and Isabelle moved like a tactical unit, sweeping through the labyrinth of fallen pillars.
Every time a swarm of Angels cornered them, Damien would slam the massive Mythril Tower Shield into the ground, angling the polished surface to catch their reflections.
It was a grotesque gallery.
Dozens of Angels were now frozen in the canyon, locked in eternal staring contests with themselves.
Their stone faces were twisted not in hunger, but in sheer, frozen panic.
They were sentient enough to know they were trapped, but bound by Law to never look away.
"We're getting close," Damien wheezed, leaning against a petrified tree.
He was pale. The physical exertion of manoeuvring the heavy shield, combined with the lingering abyss poisoning, was taking its toll.
Isabelle, seeing him stumble, grabbed the shield handle.
