Chapter 12: Reflections in the Abyss
The descent from Floor 90 was silent. Words had become too heavy. Every breath was a battle against the pressure of the Dungeon's will, the unnatural gravity distorting not only space, but also time, memory, and sense. Magic pulsed faintly in the walls, like veins surging with resentment.
Here, in the final stretch, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and ancient rot. It no longer smelled like a Dungeon—it felt like a dying god's breath. The walls pulsed faintly, like arteries. Above them, the Dungeon exhaled, and the stone seemed to flex.
The path was narrow, and spiraled downward around a black chasm with no end in sight. The terrain was unfamiliar—even to Black Scythe. No map could help now.
Hella walked first, her divine presence the only thing keeping the team grounded. Even so, her golden aura flickered at times. Her voice, however, was firm.
"It's starting," she said. "The Dungeon's last defense: the Mirror Gate."
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Floor 95 – The Gate of Self
A vast room opened before them. Its walls were polished obsidian, reflecting their forms with unnatural clarity. As each of the elite squad stepped forward, their reflections rippled—and stepped out.
A perfect copy of each adventurer appeared, standing opposite them, eyes filled with eerie light. These were not simple illusions.
Black Scythe's expression darkened.
"These are not just images. These are us. The parts we try to bury. Our failures. Our sins."
The Gate of Self would not allow anyone through who had not confronted their darkest truth. The Dungeon was testing their right to reach its Heart.
Hella bowed her head. "This is where many fall. Be honest. Be brutal. Only truth can banish shadow."
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The Battles Begin
Welf vs. Shadow Welf
The doppleganger smirked with contempt. "You only create weapons so others can be heroes. You'll never be one."
Welf tightened his grip on his flameblade. Sparks danced across the edge.
"I forge weapons so heroes don't die. That's more than enough for me."
They fought in a circle of flames and steel. Shadow Welf countered every swing with twisted versions of Welf's own creations. Only when Welf called on his bond with Hephaestus, remembering her teachings and every scar he earned, did his blade burn hot enough to cut through.
He emerged from the flames, coughing, victorious.
---
Mikoto vs. Shadow Mikoto
The twin wore a ceremonial robe, eyes filled with disdain.
"You abandoned your homeland, your honor, for love of a goddess not your own. You betrayed your oaths."
Mikoto drew her blade, her voice firm. "I did not abandon anything. I followed my heart. My honor is in truth, not tradition."
The fight was elegant and brutal. Each stroke of Mikoto's katana deflected cursed lightning and illusion. Her truth shone brighter than steel.
Her final stroke split the false Mikoto in two, and the illusion dispersed in smoke.
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Liliruca vs. Shadow Liliruca
Her twin towered over her, bloated with greed and fear. "You're still that cowardly Supporter, clinging to Bell like a crutch. You hate how weak you are."
Lily stepped forward, visibly shaking.
"I was afraid. I did steal. But I've changed. Bell helped me believe in myself. I'm no longer a burden."
She used her alchemy to create a mirror bomb—a reflection turned back upon its source. The shadow Lily screamed as it imploded.
Lily stood tall, despite the tears.
---
Ryu vs. Shadow Ryu
The reflection bore the face she wore during the Juggernaut massacre, eyes hollow and red with vengeance.
"You'll always be a killer. You relished vengeance. What god would absolve you?"
Ryu lowered her stance.
"None. I absolve myself. That's what it means to walk forward."
Their duel was poetic—silent, swift, sharp. In one final motion, Ryu severed the shadow's blade, and embraced it. The figure dissolved peacefully.
---
Aiz Wallenstein vs. Shadow Aiz
Her twin carried her mother's voice.
"You fight for your father's ghost. You think strength will bring him back. But you're empty. You are the wind—directionless."
Aiz's eyes narrowed. "I fight because I must. Because there are people I want to protect."
Her wind blades screamed as she danced in the air, striking in spirals of speed. Each movement was poetry in combat. The shadow dissolved into glittering particles.
---
Bell Cranel vs. Shadow Bell
His mirror self stood tall, proud, cold. "You're a puppet. A child given strength by gods. You've earned nothing."
Bell shook his head, clutching his dagger and divine blade.
"I chose every step. I've bled for every inch. And I'll keep choosing—to protect, to hope."
Argo Vesta ignited in both hands. Bell moved with fierce precision. Black fire clashed with divine flame. In the final moment, Bell accepted the shadow's hand as he struck the final blow.
The mirror Bell smiled before fading.
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Black Scythe (Ryu Min) vs. Shadow Scythe
His reflection was a kaleidoscope of failures—versions of him from different regressions. Bloodied. Broken. Bitter.
"You let them all die. Again and again. You think this timeline is different? You're cursed to repeat it."
Black Scythe was quiet.
"Maybe I am. But I'll keep choosing them. Even if it takes another hundred lives."
The battle defied physics. Time bent, reversed, accelerated. Every blow summoned echoes of his past selves—each one striking with a lifetime of experience.
At the end, he raised his scythe high, and called upon the Name only Hella knew: his original name, buried beneath cycles.
"I am Ryu Min. I will not fail them again."
The shadows shattered.
---
Passage to the Core
The gate opened. A staircase of light descended into a bottomless abyss.
They walked with renewed steps—wounded, but whole.
The Heart of the Dungeon awaited.
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Floor 100 – The Heart of the Dungeon
They entered a space of impossible size. A great crystalline orb floated in the center, its light pulsating like a beating heart. Black stone roots wrapped around it, feeding it the emotions of centuries.
Reality was thinner here. Thoughts echoed aloud. Dreams floated like ghosts.
The Heart spoke, though not in words. In images. In memories.
It showed the beginning—when the gods descended. When mortals dug deep. When the Dungeon awoke.
"It wasn't made to test us," Hella whispered. "It was made to repel us. To keep us away. To grow undisturbed."
Black Scythe stepped forward.
"Then we will not take your power. We offer ours."
He placed his hand on the Heart. Images of every regression, every death, every lesson passed into the crystal.
One by one, the others joined him. Each gave it their truth.
The crystal trembled. The stone roots loosened. The Dungeon paused.
It accepted their offering.
The Heart glowed white.
And for the first time in recorded history, the Dungeon stopped hungering.