Chapter 28: Reflection.

At the end of the staircase, the rotting stench in the air unexpectedly began to fade.

It gradually gave way to a scent mixed with mineral dust.

What appeared before the group was a wide yet profoundly eerie corridor.

The corridor had no brick or stone walls; both sides were entirely formed by clusters of unpolished, enormous deep-purple crystals.

The crystals rose in irregular columnar shapes.

Some thrust upward from the floor toward the ceiling; others hung downward like fangs.

The light from Marius’s lantern struck them and instantly shattered into thousands upon thousands of tiny, fragmented sparkles.

“These are Soul-Reflecting Crystals.”

Marius’s voice echoed through the vast corridor.

He was visibly excited—even removed his glove to gently touch the cold crystal surfaces with bare fingertips.

“According to legend, this was the passage used in the previous era to judge sinners. It reflects the true essence buried deep within a person’s soul… or perhaps… forgotten fragments of the past.”

“Sounds super dangerous, nyaa…”

Nia huddled at the rear, trying her best not to look at the uneven mirror-like surfaces.

As a beastkin, she instinctively hated anything that distorted her shadow into something grotesque.

Hill felt equally uncomfortable.

Even though her hand remained tightly interlocked with Phyllis’s via the golden chain of light, it did nothing to quell the inexplicable restlessness surging in her chest.

Countless versions of Hill were reflected on both sides of the crystals.

Some clear, some blurred, some stretched and warped.

Silver hair, red eyes, and that slightly petite frame—everywhere.

But…

As they ventured deeper, Hill’s peripheral vision seemed to catch something off.

In front of one relatively flat black crystal—almost like a standing mirror—Hill subconsciously came to a halt.

“Hill?”

Phyllis felt the tug and stopped as well.

“What’s wrong?”

“…My reflection. It’s a little strange.”

Hill turned to face the black crystal directly.

In that abyss-like mirror surface, what stared back was not a girl clad in white leather armor.

Light and shadow twisted.

The outline grew vague and rugged.

Deep within the black mirror stood a tall man.

Covered in blood, armor shattered, gripping a notched two-handed greatsword planted in the ground.

Though the face was unclear, Hill recognized the stance.

It was Rain’s final posture in his dying moment—bracing for one last charge against the demon god.

The man seemed to be looking at Hill.

Empty eyes pierced through time and space, carrying boundless regret and killing intent.

His lips moved faintly, as though speaking…

“Why… have you grown so weak?”

“Pick up… the sword…”

Hill’s pupils trembled violently.

The sounds of slaughter on the battlefield roared back in her ears.

An instinct she had deliberately tried to bury—but never truly forgotten.

Her breathing quickened.

Her locked left hand spasmed unconsciously, squeezing Phyllis’s fingers hard enough to hurt.

“That’s…”

Hill felt almost hypnotized, even beginning to loosen her grip on Phyllis’s hand, wanting to step toward the mirror, to touch that true self.

Marius had been silently observing Hill the entire time.

When he caught sight of the tall, shadowy figure in the reflection, the eye behind his monocle narrowed sharply.

Soul manifestation.

No ordinary girl should have such a reflection.

“Captain Hill.”

Marius lowered his voice, probing with deliberate suggestion.

“What do you see? That shadow… is it someone you know? Or perhaps…”

Is that you yourself?

The question never left his lips.

“…Holy Radiance.”

Without warning.

No lengthy incantation.

Phyllis simply raised her right hand—the one holding her staff.

The gem at the staff’s tip erupted with blinding light strong enough to create artificial noon in this underground world.

Whoosh!!!

If Marius’s lantern was a firefly, this was a flashbang detonated at point-blank range.

The entire crystal corridor instantly became an ocean of pure white light.

The originally dim, mysterious purple crystals turned ghastly pale under the overwhelming illumination.

Every reflection, refraction, and image was swallowed in an instant by this absolute, domineering brilliance.

“Ahhh! My eyes, nyaa!!”

Nia let out a miserable yowl, covering her face and rolling on the ground.

Even Elisa at the very back raised her shield to block the glare.

“That light is way too intense!”

Though protected by his glasses, Marius still shed physiological tears; his vision was filled with nothing but white afterimages.

That crucial reflection vanished completely before he could make it out clearly.

At the very center of the light source, Hill’s world went pure white.

The chaotic battlefield noises in her mind were instantly replaced by ringing tinnitus.

She instinctively squeezed her eyes shut and staggered backward.

“Mmn…”

Hill let out a pained groan; tears streamed from her eyes due to the intense stimulation.

Just as she was about to lose balance—

A warm embrace caught her.

The light receded.

Phyllis wrapped one arm around Hill’s waist; the other hand gently covered Hill’s still-closed eyes, shielding her from the lingering glare.

“Sorry, Hill. Was it too bright?”

Phyllis’s voice was right beside her ear, full of sincere apology and heartache.

“Ph… Phyllis? Why did you cast that spell?”

Hill leaned into her embrace; red spots still danced before her closed eyes, tears flowing uncontrollably.

“Because it was too dark here.”

Phyllis answered matter-of-factly, her tone showing not the slightest crack.

“Besides, I sensed evil spirits lingering in those mirrors. If Hill saw such filthy things, you’d have nightmares.”

As she spoke, her thumb gently wiped away the physiological tears at the corners of Hill’s eyes.

The touch was feather-light, as though handling a treasure.

“What you saw earlier was all illusion.”

Phyllis lowered her head until their foreheads touched, sharing warmth in the darkness.

“That dark shadow was absolutely not Hill.”

“The real Hill is right here.”

Phyllis squeezed the hand bound by the golden chain and pressed it against her own chest.

“Soft. Warm. Silver-haired.”

“Just look at me, Hill.”

“The you reflected in my eyes… is the real one.”

In her dizziness, Hill listened to the hypnotic murmur.

The image of the man wielding the greatsword gradually blurred.

The pleasant citrus scent from Phyllis’s body filled her senses.

The subtle throb she had felt at “that was the real me” was redefined—under Phyllis’s denial—as nothing more than an evil spirit’s hallucination.

“…Mm. That shadow really was scary.”

Hill nodded, her voice still weak.

“Good thing you interrupted it.”

Marius finally rubbed his eyes and regained some vision.

He looked at the two tightly embracing figures ahead, his expression somewhat dark.

Interrupted again.

And in such a crude, overwhelming way—a flashbang.

Was this nun really just trying to provide light?

“Sister Phyllis.”

Marius spoke coldly.

“Such intense light could damage the crystal structure. If it causes a collapse—”

“Oh dear, my apologies.”

Phyllis turned her head and gave Marius a pure, innocent smile.

“I simply saw something filthy trying to cling to Hill and acted on impulse—my mana control slipped. Surely Mr. Scholar won’t blame me for being overly protective?”

Marius stared at her eyes, curved into crescents from smiling.

She was smiling.

Yet that smile seemed to carry a certain warning…

If you dare try to guide her toward anything strange again, next time this light will detonate directly in your eyeballs.

“…Let’s continue.”

Marius said nothing more, raised his lantern, and walked ahead.

The party resumed moving.

When they passed that black crystal, Hill no longer dared look; she lowered her head and hurried past.

Phyllis walked arm-in-arm with Hill, deliberately slowing their pace.

In the instant they passed the mirror,

she slightly turned her face; her blue eyes coldly glanced at the fading silhouette in the reflection—the tall man whose outline stubbornly lingered.

The reflection seemed to glare back at her.

The corner of Phyllis’s mouth curved into a faint, victorious mockery.

Her finger—hidden behind her back—flicked lightly.

An extremely fine wind blade sliced across the mirror surface.

Crack!

A tiny, crisp sound.

A horizontal fracture appeared on the massive black crystal—right across the neck of the man’s reflection.

Phyllis turned back with pleasant satisfaction, as though nothing had happened, and pressed her body even closer to Hill’s.

“The path ahead is a bit slippery, Hill. Hold on to me tightly.”

“I absolutely, absolutely won’t let go.”