Both took a battle stance—one hand forward holding the spear's shaft, the other gripping its base.
They moved in perfect unison, like reflections in a mirror.
Without warning, Hades lunged, spear tip darting forward—and the fake one mirrored the same motion with the same speed and force.
Clank!
The spears collided, the impact ringing in the air. Sparks leapt as both twisted and slashed in the same rhythm, neither giving nor gaining an inch. Their movements were so identical it was unnerving, every strike answered in perfect symmetry.
'If this keeps up, I'll only wear myself out,' Hades thought, gritting his teeth. 'And with this nullification field, my divine energy is limited. I need to break this pattern… fast.'
He hurled his spear—the clone hurled its. The weapons met midair and clattered to the ground, both attacks neutralized.
Hades immediately drew his chain, the dagger-like tip glinting.
The clone… drew an identical chain.
They lashed out at the same time.
Clang! The chains tangled mid-swing, locking together like snakes in a knot.
Both pulled hard—muscles tensing, feet sliding on the stone floor.
Hades narrowed his eyes. This time, he used his divinity subtly, reinforcing his chain before yanking sharply. The clone stumbled forward.
In that split second, Hades wound the chain around his foe's torso, dragging him close. With a single brutal punch charged with divine force, he shattered the clone's head. It dissolved into a puff of pale smoke.
"Killing my own face feels… weird," he muttered, brushing off his hand. "Well, whatever."
He moved into the next corridor, but awaiting him was another maze.
"Not again…"
This time, the walls were made of mirrors.
They shimmered like liquid glass, forming towering mirrors that stretched endlessly in both directions.
Each mirror didn't just reflect him—they twisted his image, showing him as he was, as he could be, and… as others saw him.
Some frames showed him standing over mountains of corpses, crowned and feared.
Others showed him kneeling, chained, his powers stripped.
Occasionally, they reflected people close to him—like Hecate smiling softly, Rhea turning away in disappointment, Hestia fading into shadows.
There were even illusions of lesser beings, writhing in Miramor's grasp, screaming for help.
One mirror stopped him for half a heartbeat—it showed him with Hecate, a crown on her head, both of them at peace.
He almost smirked… almost. But he knew better.
"Hmph. Nice try," he murmured, stepping forward without a glance back.
The illusions grew bolder, throwing in alluring women draped in barely-there garments, whispering sweet promises.
The voices echoed, taunting, begging, mocking, blending into a wall of noise.
At times, the reflections were alluring women in revealing clothes, clearly meant to tempt him.
Illusionary voices echoed—mocking him, pleading for help, whispering false promises.
Every type of illusion that anyone could wish for—power, wealth, kingdom, authority, or beauty—was shown, yet none affected him even a little.
Hades didn't speed up, didn't slow down. He simply walked on, letting the maze try and fail to stir him.
After experiencing Noctandrath's nightmare, this all seemed like child's play.
His mental strength had been strengthened to another level; this level of trickery could not touch him.
Minutes later, he reached the center, and there it was: a faceless, shapeless white ghost.
Miramor.
Without a word, the creature conjured thousands of spears and sent them flying.
Hades didn't hold back. He unleashed all his remaining divine energy, using every divinity he could. He countered the spears with perfect precision and launched his own barrage of dark spears in return.
Miramor dodged them with inhuman swiftness. Then, it created hundreds of clones. Reflections stepped out from the mirrors—some looked like Hecate, Rhea, and Hestia; others like twisted strangers.
Hades flew upward to gain the advantage, shielding himself. The clones bombarded him with spells. Some were illusions, some real. The mix made it impossible to read them all.
His shield cracked under the constant assault. The nullification field drained him faster.
'I have to do something… but what?' He gritted his teeth.
His eyes fell on his chain weapon.
'This might work… maybe.'
Using his mineral divinity, he shattered the chain into countless tiny metallic shards, then reshaped them into razor-sharp blades.
The clones' attacks faltered for just a moment—enough for Hades to burst out of his shield and release the storm of blades.
They tore through the clones, then swirled around the room like a metallic tornado, cutting down anything in their path.
Miramor staggered, injured. Hades wasted no time—he condensed energy into his spear, spread his wings, and dove like an arrow. The spear pierced the ghost clean through.
"Ahhhh!"
The creature screamed.
Hades collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. "Finally… That was annoying."
Then his expression shifted. "Wait. My divine energy isn't recovering… and my divinities are still restricted."
He approached the corpse and yanked his spear free. The body dissolved into a white mist.
"No core? That's impossible. Miramor's a mutated ghost; it should leave behind a demonic core."
An eerie laugh echoed around him. He turned, and his blood ran cold, cold sweat running down his back.
A new door had appeared in the wall where none had been before.