He let out a slow breath, the sound almost lazy, and lowered the DreadBlade to his side. Its edge hummed faintly in the quiet, as if satisfied with the kill.
"Well…" Wuxie tilted his head at his reflection and flashed a grin that was all teeth. "That was fun."
The hall itself seemed to shudder in response, a faint tremor rippling across the mirrored floor like a sigh of resignation. Somewhere beyond the endless reflections, a faint, metallic click echoed—the sound of a lock releasing.
"Ah," Wuxie muttered, straightening. "Cleared the stage."
Sliding his free hand back into his pocket, he strolled forward with the same careless gait he always had, the DreadBlade resting lazily across his shoulder. His boots crunched over broken shards of glass that weren't supposed to exist in this place, but he didn't so much as glance down at them. His eyes were already on the dark seam of a door taking shape ahead, woven from overlapping mirrors.
"On to the next level, then."
