Chapter 392

Chapter 392: Inside the mirror world?

In Duncan’s perception, two Marks that had entered an Anomaly state had already drawn his attention.

One mark, of course, came from the White Oak.

That ship, which he had once reduced to ash with his own flames, still gave off a strong sense of existence. It wandered through his perception like a ball of blazing fire. Yet he still could not pin down its true location. Whenever he tried to locate the White Oak, he got only a strange and hazy result, showing that the White Oak lay somewhere near the city-state of Frostholm, in a zone long since sealed off by the Sea Mist Fleet and the Frostholm navy.

The other “problematic” mark was on Gatekeeper Agatha.

Over the past while, Duncan had suddenly discovered that the mark he had left on Agatha had come under some kind of interference. Under that interference, Agatha’s aura grew several times weaker, and her position began to show the same blur and distortion as the White Oak. When he tried to confirm Agatha’s condition from afar, he was startled to find that her aura would sometimes vanish completely from within the city-state.

Two malfunctioning Marks: one on a ship, one on a person. Different locations, similar states.

That clearly deserved attention.

So he chose to investigate the matter in person after nightfall. He still had no leads on the White Oak, but Agatha’s mark continued to move now and then within Frostholm, and it should have been somewhere nearby.

Duncan lowered his head and looked at Shirley, who was peering about at his side.

Dog’s senses as a Demon from the Abyssal Deep might be useful. And if there really were Annihilators active in the area, Dog would probably pick up the scent of its own kind.

veil of night deepened. The gas lamps along the street were all lit. Now and then a night watchman’s whistle or a dog’s bark sounded in the distance, mixed with the sound of waves rolling in from far out at sea.

During curfew, the streets were empty and cold. Even the light spilling from building windows along the road could not drive away the chill of this winter night. Duncan led Shirley through yet another narrow alley, and in his “sight” the tiny flame that represented Agatha still paced back and forth not far away.

“Mr. Duncan, if that Gatekeeper sees me… do you think she’ll cut me down with one sword stroke?” Shirley said, mostly just trying to find something to say. “Like when Vanna sees a Heretic…”

“Gatekeepers don’t use swords,” Duncan said casually. “I heard from Vanna that they use specially made combat Gatekeeper’s canes and divine magic in the domain of death to deal with Heretics.”

Shirley instantly shrank her neck and fell silent.

Duncan did not mind the young lady’s reaction. After they entered another alley, he suddenly stopped walking.

Shirley also stopped at once, tense, her face full of alarm as she looked around. “Did you find something? Is that Gatekeeper up ahead?”

“…She isn’t up ahead. She’s right here,” Duncan said calmly as his gaze swept slowly along the alley. “And she has been here for a while.”

“She’s right here?!” Shirley’s eyes went wide. She felt as if another cold draft blew across the back of her neck. She stared hard into the alley, her heart growing more and more uneasy. “Where? Where is she… I can’t see her at all. Dog, do you see her?”

“No,” Dog’s voice came from the nearby shadows, sounding muffled. “I don’t see anyone, and I don’t feel any aura.”

“Even Dog can’t see her?” Duncan’s brow furrowed slightly. Yet in front of his eyes, the tiny flame that represented Agatha burned quietly a few meters away, faint and unreal.

The Gatekeeper was right here. She had been resting here.

Duncan walked slowly toward where the flame burned, then stopped again.

“Agatha” seemed to sense something. When he was halfway there, the little flame suddenly leaped, then quickly moved off in another direction.

Duncan lifted his head and looked toward the direction in which the flame moved in his perception. Suddenly, a flicker of shadow on the glass window set into a nearby exterior wall caught his eye.

On the glass surface he saw a blurred human figure run past in a hurry. In its outline he could faintly make out Agatha’s shape.

Shirley, who had just raised her head to look around, also noticed the shadow. She almost cried out in fright, but she reacted in time and clapped a hand over her mouth. Only after the shadow flashed past did she look at Duncan and speak in a trembling voice: “There was a figure just now!”

“I saw it. It was reflected in the window,” Duncan said in a low voice, his gaze still calmly fixed ahead. In the place Shirley could not see, he still stared at the tiny flame. It had already passed through the alley, flared once at the junction ahead, then turned and ran in another direction.

He narrowed his eyes a little, as if sketching Agatha’s condition in his mind.

She seemed to be breaking out of some predicament. She might have been wounded, or simply exhausted. She had paused here for a brief rest, then headed toward the Upper City. At the junction, something had blocked her path for a moment, but it had not stopped her.

Duncan opened his eyes and let his gaze fall once more on the glass window not far away. Agatha’s figure no longer appeared in the smooth pane. It only reflected the faint image of a street lamp in the distance.

“A reflection…” Duncan murmured. “Interesting…”

“Ah?” Shirley still looked completely lost. “What? You already figured it out?”

“Maybe.” Duncan gave a noncommittal answer, then stepped up to the window and raised his hand to snap his fingers.

A tiny flame leaped up at his fingertips and lit his figure.

He looked at the glass. In the window he saw the reflection of the flame in his hand. Its dancing light seemed almost alive as it burned quietly in the world of the mirror world.

Shirley watched Duncan’s movements in confusion. Then she saw him wave his hand lightly and scatter the flame at his fingertips.

Yet a faint green glow still flickered in her field of vision.

Shirley’s mouth slowly fell open as she stared in shock at the scene before her. After Duncan had dispelled the flame in his hand, the spark reflected in the glass window did not fade at all. The reflected fire still burned quietly, as if it now possessed an existence of its own and was burning inside the mirror.

“Wh-what… what is going on?!” Shirley lifted her hand and pointed at the flame in the glass, stammering as she looked at Duncan. “Why is the flame in there still…”

“A Frostholm of the mirror world,” Duncan turned his head slowly, and there seemed to be a hint of amusement in his tone. “It is gradually merging with the Frostholm of the Mortal Realm. A fine bit of ingenuity. Personally, I find it quite creative.”

“mirror world…” Shirley only half understood, but she still repeated the word without thinking. “You mean there’s another Frostholm inside the mirrors? That ‘Gatekeeper’ ran into the world inside the mirrors?”

“Not exactly, but you can think of it that way,” Duncan said calmly. He turned his gaze back to the mirror, watching the reflected flame that still burned there. “There’s a tiny fissure here, but it isn’t enough.”

“Not enough?” Shirley blinked.

“I need a more precise location and a stronger link,” Duncan said as he slowly reached out and touched the illusory flame in the mirror with his fingertip. “This little spark isn’t enough to ignite the world on the other side of the mirror. However…”

He paused, then drew back his hand.

The phantom flame in the mirror suddenly wavered, then slipped away into the depths of the darkness, leaving behind only a faintly glowing trail of ghostly green that seemed to stretch off into the distance.

“It’s already enough to give Agatha a hand.”

…

How many replicas made from elements had she already destroyed? How many avatar forms of that blond young man had she shattered?

After the count passed four digits, Agatha no longer bothered to keep track.

She only knew that the Heretic had not lied to her about one thing. She really was trapped in this bizarre world, and for now there was no hope of escaping it.

The sky was dim and the clouds churned in confusion. In this “Frostholm city-state” without the light of the Sun, the boundary between day and night had disappeared. Only the subtle changes of light behind the clouds and the gas lamps flickering on along the streets hinted that veil of night had already descended.

Agatha moved through a narrow alley, hurrying along while steadying her breath and mending the wounds on her body and mind.

Her black coat was torn in many places from constant fighting. The soft armor beneath it was badly damaged as well. On her shoulder, along her side, and in other places, the bandages and skin underneath were already visible, with thin traces of blood seeping through.

To be fair, the enemies were not strong. Even the avatar forms used by that blond Heretic did not seem particularly fearsome in the eyes of Agatha the Gatekeeper. It took her only a few minutes to dispatch each one.

But they were endless.

The entire city-state served as their raw material and reserve troops. Ordinary methods of battle had no meaning here at all.

Agatha threaded her way through the alley while her mind worked rapidly.

At the same time, she recalled the strange and terrifying sensation from a few minutes earlier.

She had been taking a brief rest in a dark alley when that dreadful aura suddenly appeared within her senses. The pressure it brought… even made her feel as though her heart had stopped beating for a few seconds.

She had not had time to think then and had hurriedly left her hiding place. But looking back now… that terrifying aura did not quite feel like something that belonged to this eerie replica city-state.

What… exactly had it been?