The impossible had just happened. The cold, lifeless glass of the mirror rippled like dark water, and the entity trapped within it—a perfect, flawless duplicate of the Divine Sovereign—rolled its shoulders with uncanny fluidity, completely breaking synchronization with its master.
"Phew, I thought you will never discover it." Her reflection said, stretching her body as if she had been cramped inside a tiny box for centuries.
Mirabella froze, the chill of the void seeping into her bones. The sheer unnaturalness of the sight triggered every combat instinct she possessed.
"Copying your every move is a very difficult job, I pity your shadow." She muttered, staring at Mirabella's stunned expression with a terrifyingly casual, sentient awareness.
Before Mirabella could even summon her aura to shatter the glass, the entity within raised a perfectly manicured hand.
"Don't worry, I am the eighth round."
[DING!]
