Chapter 22 — The Smile That Split the Dark
The shadow's screech cut through the room like a blade made of glass.
It didn't move like a person — it crawled through the air, sliding sideways, flickering from one corner to another like someone was skipping frames in a video.
Rimuru exhaled through her nose, brushing a piece of shattered mirror from her shoulder.
"Man, you things always ruin my entrances," she muttered. "Do you know how hard it is to make a dramatic landing without tripping on glass?"
The creature lunged, claws stretching into impossibly long shapes.
Rimuru's grin sharpened.
"Too slow."
She ducked under the swing, palm glowing as she struck upward — blue energy arcing across her fingers. The blow connected, and for a heartbeat, the thing's body glitched — splitting into dozens of ghostly outlines before snapping back together.
Aira stumbled backward, clutching Ren's arm. "What is that thing?!"
"Bad coding," Rimuru said simply, sidestepping another attack. "Leftover data from something that shouldn't exist."
The creature hissed, its voice a dozen echoes at once.
> "You can't stop the correction. The world must—"
Rimuru interrupted with a kick that shattered its head into static. "Correction denied."
She straightened her coat, flicking her wrist as energy danced around her like electric threads. The light illuminated her face — confident, fierce, but tired under the eyes.
Ren stepped forward, still tense. "That thing mentioned a 'correction'. Is this… part of what you warned us about?"
Rimuru didn't answer immediately. Her gaze followed the flickering remnants of the creature, which were already starting to crawl back together on the floor like mercury.
She sighed. "Yeah. Think of it as… the universe's attempt to uninstall me."
Aira blinked. "Uninstall—?"
"Long story," Rimuru said with a small smile. "Let's just say I'm not exactly compatible with this version of reality anymore."
The shadow rose again, forming a spiked silhouette that filled the room with cold light.
Rimuru glanced over her shoulder at Aira, her grin returning — soft but cocky.
"Don't blink, okay? I'd hate for you to miss my cool moment."
Aira frowned. "Just be careful!"
"No promises."
---
The air warped.
Blue runes spiraled from under Rimuru's feet — precise, intricate, and beautiful in their chaos. The symbols flickered with red streaks as she raised her hand.
Her tone dropped low — half whisper, half chant.
"Mirror, mirror… reflect the truth."
The circle ignited.
Energy burst outward, wrapping the room in a dome of shimmering glass. The shadow creature struck the barrier — and was instantly split into a dozen copies of itself, all trapped within floating shards of light.
Rimuru cracked her neck. "See? Now it's a party."
The shards rotated around her, each one showing a fragment of her face — smiling, frowning, tired, confident — like every version of Rimuru existed at once.
Ren shielded Aira as the room pulsed with the rhythm of her power. "What… is she doing?"
Aira whispered, eyes wide. "She's fighting herself."
---
Each shard flared in turn, blasting beams of energy into the center where the creature writhed, screaming through corrupted code.
Rimuru stood at the center of the storm, her silhouette framed by the swirling mirrors.
Her expression softened — not out of pity, but understanding.
"You were made from me," she said quietly. "From everything I broke trying to protect what I love."
Her eyes glowed red now — steady and fierce.
"So let me end you with that same love."
She snapped her fingers.
The mirrors shattered outward, exploding in a brilliant burst of color. The shockwave tore through the distortion, and when the light faded — the creature was gone.
Only dust.
Only silence.
---
Aira ran to her, grabbing her arm. "Rimuru! Are you—"
Rimuru waved a hand, still smiling. "Fine, fine. Just a little overclocked."
Ren stared at her, unreadable. "You risked collapsing the entire pocket zone."
She met his gaze evenly. "And it worked."
Then, softer — "You're welcome."
Ren sighed, muttering under his breath. "Still impossible."
Rimuru tilted her head with mock innocence. "Was that a compliment?"
He ignored her.
Aira, however, laughed — that small, fragile laugh that Rimuru always found grounding.
Rimuru smiled back, brushing a strand of Aira's hair out of her face. "See? Told you I'd handle it."
"But what if it comes back?" Aira asked quietly.
"It won't," Rimuru said — and then added with a wink, "Probably."
---
As the last of the mirror fragments faded, Rimuru turned toward the window.
Her reflection stared back — not quite matching her expression.
The copy smiled differently this time. Sadder.
"Still pretending it's all fine?" it whispered.
Rimuru smiled softly. "Someone has to."
The reflection said nothing. It just watched — until the dawn light crept across the glass and erased it.