The monsters of the deep Southern woods were simple to understand. They were driven by hunger, territory, and blood. Rowan understood them.
Growing up as a commoner in a small village he learned at a young age how to correctly and safely avoid any monsters that crossed the tree line in his town. When the village scrapped together every last copper they had in order to send Rowan to the academy, they didn’t do it on a whim. They sent him there as their lifeline. He carried the weight of his entire village on his back, and because of that he was ready and prepared for anything. He swore to himself he wouldn’t get into any dangerous or stupid situations like fighting a noble. He just had to pass.
But as he stared across from him he realised his thought process was flawed. This was far crueler than any southern beast.
He was staring at himself.
Five glassy, gray-skinned doppelgängers stood opposite the group, their faces shifting into perfect replicas of Rowan, Oliver, Ella, Tristan, and Lily.
Rowan instinctively tightened his grip on his weapon, his innate perception skill flaring to life. The world sharpened. The ambient dust in the air slowed, the micro-expressions on his teammates’ faces started to twitch, and the subtle shifts in the reflections’ muscle fibers told him they were ready to strike.
"Stay in formation," Oliver commanded, his voice steady and authoritative as he drew his blade. He always took the lead, stepping into the role of commander with a natural, practiced ease. "They’re just mirror constructs. Stay cautious. They probably can’t copy our Skills, only our physical forms."
Across the room, Mirror-Ella raised her hands. The stone floor cracked, and a hulking golem of compressed sand erupted from the ground with a deafening roar.
Tristan, the boy from the North, let out a harsh groan. "Great. Way to jinx it, Oliver."
Rowan’s heightened eyes caught the subtle tightening of Oliver’s jaw at the comment. Maybe not to the others but to Rowan there was obvious nearly palpable tension between the two. Oliver clearly looked down on Tristan, constantly throwing his weight around to assert his dominance, while Tristan seemed perfectly content constantly undermining the self appointed leader with lazy, biting sarcasm. Rowan didn’t know if there was some politics behind the scene or what but he didn’t care. As long as they did their jobs, it didn’t matter.
But right now, Tristan wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver. He was staring intently at his own reflection, his eyes narrowed in deep thought as if trying to solve a puzzle.
’They’re attacking first’, Rowan realized, watching the mirror-team lunge forward.
Hell broke loose, Lily threw her hands up and thick dense fog rolled out from her palms, blanketing the arena to obscure the enemy’s vision.
An instant later, Mirror-Lily did the exact same thing.
The chamber was suddenly drowned in a suffocating white mist. Shouts echoed off the walls as the clash of steel and the thud of magic filled the air.
Rowan ducked under a sweeping strike from Mirror-Rowan. As he fought, his passive perception skill worked in overdrive, analyzing the mirrors. But his own reflection fought purely with physical martial arts. Tristan and Oliver’s reflections were doing the same, relying on raw speed and weapon forms rather than magic.
’They can only copy what they see’, Rowan concluded, sidestepping a jab. ’Ella and Lily cast visible, active magic. My perception is innate. Whatever abilities Tristan and Oliver are using to boost their combat prowess, the mirrors can’t mimic them because there’s no visible trigger.’
"Keep pressing!" Oliver’s voice echoed through the thick fog. "We have the advantage in raw output! Break their lines!"
And Oliver was right. Slowly, the tide turned. Because the mirrors couldn’t replicate the boys’ innate, unseen skills, the real team was systematically overpowering them. Rowan disarmed his duplicate, kicking the construct back into the mist.
Breathing heavily, Rowan backed up, using his enhanced vision to pierce through the thick fog that blinded the others. He scanned the battlefield to see who needed help.
That was when he saw it.
About twenty paces away, Lily was backpedaling, desperately trying to keep distance between herself and Mirror-Tristan.
Oliver was positioned perfectly to intercept. In fact, Oliver was already moving toward her. Rowan watched as Oliver closed the distance, his polearm raised to parry the construct’s lethal strike and save Lily.
But Oliver didn’t parry.
Time seemed to crawl for Rowan. His perception skill caught every horrifying detail. He saw Oliver’s eyes dart toward Lily. He saw the cold, calculated shift in Oliver’s footing. Oliver raised his polearm, but he was just a fraction of a second off from blocking the attack.
Without any obstacle’s Mirror-Tristan’s descending strike struck true.
Before she could even scream, a blinding flash of golden light filled the fog. Each student was equipped with an emergency ward which triggers after absorbing a set amount of damage. Lily’s shattered instantly as it absorbed the fatal blow. The safety mechanism engaged instantly, teleporting her out of the exam and eliminating her from the Academy entrance trials.
She was out.
Rowan froze in the mist. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Oliver stood over the spot where Lily had just been, his chest heaving as if he had run a marathon. The Northern boy looked around the fog, his expression devastated.
"Lily!" Oliver shouted into the mist, his voice quivering. "Dammit! I couldn’t reach her in time!"
Rowan felt the blood drain from his face. Oliver’s reaction was convincing. So much so that Rowan second guessed what he saw. ’Maybe he really just was too slow to intercept the strike’. But he was sure there was more to it.
In the blinding white fog, surrounded by mirrors, Rowan was lost in thought.