Eliza received a small glare for her troubles. She’d been dealing with her reflection for the entire battle–it wasn’t wrong of me to expect a little bit more warning when her reflection tried to separate my head from my body. Mimicking her with a move I’d rarely practiced, I kicked my leg out and swept up and in front of me, hooking my heel around the reflection’s knee and pulling it out. The reflection tipped to the ground, and Eliza, now in reach, lifted her sword and slammed it deep through her reflection’s chest.
Red roots as bright as fire spread through the reflection before it, too, shattered and dropped to the pool like rain.
It was as though a heavy weight over our shoulders lifted, the tension in the air breaking with the defeat of not one but two reflections in less than a minute. Eliza flicked water droplets off her sword, her ponytail flapping as she spun like a dancer to face the next enemy.
I heaved myself to my feet, water dripping from my soaked hair into ice-cold rivets that streamed down my face. My reflection stared back at me. This time, when it came after me, its movements felt slower, and its blows were easily brushed off. The easy defeat of the two reflections mere minutes ago seemed more explainable, more within reach now. Finally, the reflections had run out of ability points, only able to rely on basic attacks. Our waiting game had paid off.
Eliza stabbed her sword through my reflection’s side, knocking it to the floor with a hard shove. With her sword still stabbed through its body, she pushed further until he was pinned. I cast two rapid explosions, watching as they burned through it, shattering it back into the water droplets it was made of. The lights from the crystals below reflected off of the crystal-like droplets, stunning colors reflecting against the water.
Behind them, Cove used his increased strength to wrestle Sinbad’s reflection to the floor, not so much as flinching as Sinbad’s machete swung inches past Cove’s face, slamming down into the head of the reflection that shattered like glass upon impact.
An overwhelming amount of notifications popped up before my eyes. They said:
[Congrats! You have overcome yourself!]
[You now understand your true value]
[Take some of the water as a reward!]
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[Obtained Reflection Water. This item can only be used once. When thrown into the air, it creates a realistic clone of you that lasts for a minute. Make sure to save this for a special occasion!]
[Level up!]
[You can now use Whirlwind!]
And so on.
I scanned through them all, closing them as we staggered out of the room, crashing as the adrenaline faded from our bodies. In the camping room beyond, we haphazardly threw up the unnecessary yet comfortable tents before slipping between our blankets, dead to the world.
My dreams that night were a combination of memory and fantasy. Inches away from my eyes stood my reflection, the light beneath his feet casting an odd and eerie light glow over his features, masking sections of his face. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said before the dream swirled around, the flame echoing the sentiment.
The next morning, I woke feeling the oddest combination of confidence while also being uncertain and uneasy, I unzipped the tent flap, strolled through the grassy area to the small stream that ran through the campground, providing a fresh look and fresh water through what was an essentially medium-sized indoor yard. I found a particularly comfortable set of large rocks and sat upon them, trailing my fingers through the water in swirling patterns like the swishes of a brush stroke.
In order to beat my reflection, I’d ended up having to rely on the physical strength I’d avoided for so long. It had been thrilling yet terrifying, and I had clearly underestimated how troublesome my reflection would be. In the midst of battle, I’d discovered that muscle memory was a force to be reckoned with and swore to myself that I wouldn’t complain about monotonous exercises. They’d saved my life.
And yet…in spite of all the good, it seemed as though I’d never be free of being reminded of the sheer difference in magic between Cove and myself, and each reminder felt as though it were chipping away at my insides, destroying something I’d been working hard to build. It was cruising and awe-inspiring at the same time.
The warring emotions burned through my brain, escalating from the drums of war into a full-grown battle that had my head pounding. The cool water at my fingertips felt as though it were leeching away the warmth, bringing with it a cool indifference I was grateful for.
With a yawn, Sinbad dropped down into a cross-legged position next to me. He stared at me for a second, his eyes scanning my face momentarily before tension bled from his shoulders.
Without prompting, I attempted to be reassuring and said, “According to the novel, the boss was a lot less difficult.”
It was another oddity of Zenith Online. A quirk, as some called it. An annoyance, others.
“That’s great,” he said, leaning back against a tree with his arms crossed behind his head, his eyes slipping shut.