His footsteps thundered faster, each stride ricocheting through the corridor as if chased by invisible hounds. Every reflection—strange faces grinning wickedly from behind the glass—pressed in.
"Isn't it about time you gave my body back?" My voice slipped out, raspy and raw, echoing from somewhere deep inside his mind.
He kept running, his steps so light they barely against the floor.
"My body?" he shot back, his tone dripping with mockery.
I froze. Of course—here I was, a bumbling guest crashing into someone else's home, ignorant of the rules, shamelessly demanding what was never mine to begin with. How brazen, how utterly reckless of me to stake a claim on something that had slipped through my fingers.
"I never told you, did I? I can only stay in your body for a short while," he murmured, his words soft.
"What?"
"To be honest, I have no intention of returning to my old body," he continued. "My real body… it's buried deep beneath the dungeon, along with memories I'd rather see rot."
Why the sudden change of subject? What was he playing at?
"Once we're out of here, you'll get your body back."
"Wait. If you're here, then you must know what happened in the dungeon, right? Why did everyone die? And… who am I, really?"
He stopped dead in his tracks. The air froze—time itself seemed to hold its breath.
"That…" He drew in a long, shaky breath. "I'm not sure."
"What!?" My voice cracked, a shrill note splitting the silence inside his mind.
"Do you even know how you managed to take my body?" his tone a quiet riddle.
I furrowed my brow, clawing through the tangled threads of memory. "What I remember… it's all a blur. I absorbed information and memories from the bodies I mimicked. That way, I didn't just copy their appearance—I inherited their memories, too."
"That's why I can blend in so perfectly using your body. In other words, I'm no different from the original Fionn or you."
"Exactly. Even I don't fully understand how you pulled it off. But… have you ever wondered if what you copied wasn't just the body and memories—but also the soul itself?" His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Pardon?" I nearly choked on the word.
"I am Fionn's soul—the one that got copied along for the ride."
Impossible. My mind reeled. Could that be true? Everything I'd ever learned—every scrap of memory now tangled in my head—insisted that a soul should slip away the instant a body falls lifeless.
"To be honest, I've existed ever since you became me. But my presence was just a speck—a stain in the corner of your vision."
"So you're the one who saved me from Fiammie back then?" I asked, voice barely more than a breath.
"For a fleeting moment, I was conscious—just long enough to sense danger. That black sphere appeared as a manifestation of my will, but I couldn't control it completely."
So it was me—or rather, us—who killed Fiammie with our own hands.
"It takes time for all my memories to resurface. For some reason, everything about the dungeon is shrouded in fog. Every time I try to recall it, only vague memories come to me."
My mind too was just as tangled—a snarl of memories I couldn't unravel, no matter how hard I tried.
"I've told you before, I can only take over your body for a short while. Controlling my body drains a ridiculous amount of mana.
Since I'm not exactly whole, you should count yourself lucky I managed to drag you this far."
"And considering your fighting style—which, let's be honest, is spectacularly idiotic—at least let me get us out of here. After that, all you'll need to do is sprint home," he added.
Before I knew it, we were standing before a door—the spoils of our struggle.
"By the way, what should I call you?" I asked, half-joking, as our hands brushed the doorknob.
"Hmm, just call me Erin." He reached for the handle, but in a blink, something sticky coiled around his ankle.
Erin moved fast, trying to wrench the door open, but the tendril was faster, yanking him backwards. His body jerked, lifted clean off the ground, and in that split second, a familiar face flashed before me—Ramlen.
He swung his baseball bat, his movements sharp and brimming with fury, but Erin was just as quick. The black sphere shot out, intercepting the strike, yet the impact hurled Erin.
Ramlen didn't let up. He lunged, attacking with wild abandon, though still careful not to hit the mirrors. Erin dodged, but each step was snagged—Aiden's sticky substance latched onto his legs, throwing him off balance.
Ramlen seized the opening. His bat crashed into Erin's face, blood splattering from the corner of Erin's mouth. Erin staggered, fighting to stay upright, but Aiden yanked his legs again, forcing him to his knees. Ramlen struck again; this time, Erin blocked with the black sphere, but the next blow slammed into his gut, sending him sprawling across the floor.
Erin lay sprawled, unmoving. "Are you okay?" I shouted, panic clawing at my throat.
No answer. But then, the black sphere hovered and wrapped itself around Erin's legs, dissolving Aiden's grip and setting him free. Aiden recoiled, scrambling to retrieve his weapon, but Erin was faster. With the black coating now sheathing his legs, Erin anchored Aiden in place—his weapon stuck, impossible to pull free.
"Drop your weapon, Aiden!" Ramlen's shout ricocheted through the chaos.
Panic seized Aiden, her body hoisted off the ground. Summoning the last dregs of his strength, Erin hurled Aiden—weapon and all—straight into one of the mirrors.
Erin tried to break free, but his fingers were bound tight, no room even to breathe—he was utterly ensnared by his own gambit.
His body crashed through, flung into another mirror dimension. Here, not hundreds, but millions of pillars soared upward, arranged in a geometry so chaotic it bordered on madness. The gaps between them twisted unpredictably, the dim light casting the whole place in the gloom of some ancient warehouse.
"Too bad—your plan's a total bust," Aiden's voice echoed, bouncing from pillar to pillar.
"Huh?"
"You thought you could split us up? Leave me to rot alone in this mirrored hell? Joke's on you—you got dragged in right alongside me."
Erin exhaled, a sly smile flickering across his lips. "I never intended to separate anyone. The last room was just too cramped for a proper fight."
With a single motion, Erin reached toward the mirror portal he'd entered through. He made a pulling gesture, and in an instant, Ramlen was sucked in—dragged by Erin's black sphere into this fractured dimension.
"Here, we can fight to our heart's content!" Erin declared, his eyes flashing wild with anticipation.
Without another word, Erin lunged at Aiden. The black sphere spun across the back of his hand, fists flying—deadly and relentless. But Aiden weaved between the pillars, her body moving like a living shadow.
Aiden wasn't just on the defensive. She hurled a glob of slime—a baseball-sized orb—straight at Erin's head. Erin slipped aside with ease, the ball vanishing into the gloom between the pillars, swallowed whole by the darkness.
Aiden sprang backward, her eyes narrowing with calculation.
"That close, and you still missed!" Erin taunted, breath ragged.
Suddenly, a muffled bounce resounded behind Erin—a ball rebounding off a pillar, sluggish at first, then gaining speed, like a heartbeat racing under pressure.
"Fool. If that ball hits you head-on, the damage is nothing. The true power of my Slime Ball comes when it bounces, gathering momentum," Aiden grinned. "You made a huge mistake dragging me here. This dimension? It's my training ground—Slime Ball paradise."
The ball careened wildly, and with a flick of slime from his palm, Aiden manipulated its path, sending it weaving through the pillars, hunting Erin with ever-increasing speed.
Erin searched for an opening, but Ramlen wasn't about to stand idle. His baseball bat flashed through the air, striking from the flank. Erin faltered—just for a heartbeat—and Aiden's ball smashed into his face, rebounding again, its speed now nearly impossible to track.
"With every bounce, the ball doubles in speed—until it rivals a lightning itself!" Aiden's shout reverberated, her voice a drumbeat of menace.
The ball vanished in a blink after slamming into Erin's face, leaving a lance of pain. The world spun; pillars seemed to waltz around him, the whole dimension shimmering with vertigo.
"You dropped your guard!" Ramlen's cry split the air. He drove his bat into Erin's gut, then fired up his baseball bat—flames roared, launching Erin across the room, his body crashing into a pillar with a thunderous crack.
"Erin!" My breath catching in my throat.
Erin coughed, fresh blood streaking his chin. "That's… pretty bad, huh?" he muttered, but a crooked smile still clung to his lips—as if pain was nothing more than a passing breeze.
"The longer that ball bounces, the closer it gets to matching the speed of light," Erin said, swaying unsteadily. "And while I'm busy dodging, your partner's swinging that bat like he's trying to split my bones in two."
"Surrender," Ramlen replied, his tone flat.
"We were never ordered to kill you. The Master wants you alive."
Suddenly, Erin burst out laughing—a wild, ringing sound that danced among the countless pillars, as if the entire mirror dimension was laughing along with him.
"What's so funny?!" Ramlen snapped.
"Nothing, really. Sorry. I just realized—this situation isn't nearly as dire as I thought," Erin answered, his eyes gleaming with cunning. "If you're not here to kill me, maybe I'll be the one to finish you off instead." His grin stretched wide as the black sphere in his hand morphed into a gauntlet.
Erin lunged, both opponents bracing themselves. "Don't underestimate us!" Aiden shouted, snapping his slime tether. The slime ball shot forward—Erin dodged nimbly, the ball ricocheting, vanishing, then reappearing to slam into the floor and pillars, gouging craters wherever it struck.
"Damn, his moves have changed—is he adapting to Aiden's attacks?" Ramlen thought, eyes wide.
Ramlen charged in, his baseball bat clashing in a deadly dance with Erin's black gauntlet. Blows landed fast and furious, but neither could land a decisive hit.
"Watch your attacks, Aiden! Otherwise, I'll get caught in the crossfire!" Ramlen yelled, ducking as the wild ball occasionally veered dangerously close to him.
Aiden's ball spun out of control, its rebounds growing more erratic—sometimes targeting Erin, sometimes nearly smashing into Ramlen, who had to deflect it with his bat.
"You dropped your guard!" Erin countered, slamming his fist into Ramlen's gut. But even that wasn't enough to bring him down.
Aiden's ball came screaming toward them again—this time so fast it was nearly invisible. Erin dodged by a hair's breadth, and the projectile detonated against a pillar, blasting out a massive crater. Shards of stone rained down.
Erin sprang into action, seizing the slime cord. "Pull your ball back, Aiden!" Ramlen shouted.
Exactly. If this ball keeps bouncing, it'll rival the speed of light," Erin explained. "But that also means it gets harder and harder for its owner to control."
"This is bad, Ramlen!" Aiden gasped, breath ragged. "The ball—!"
Aiden's weapon was now completely wild, ricocheting out of control, smashing pillar after pillar.
Fionn toyed with the slime cord, the deadly ball lurking at its tip. Aiden, chest heaving, was clearly spent—her stamina drained, her focus shattered. She had lost all command over his own weapon.
"So this was your rotten plan all along!" Ramlen growled, fending off the ball as it ricocheted wildly at him. But just as he thought he was safe, the sphere veered sharply, streaking toward Erin as if it had a mind of its own.
A sly grin curled across Erin's lips, sending a chill down Ramlen's spine. Dread gnawed at him. The ball he'd just deflected vanished from sight—then, in a flash, Erin jerked his head to the right.
The ball whistled past the back of his skull, slicing the air, zeroing in on Ramlen.
Realizing Erin's trap, Ramlen leapt backward, instincts screaming.
"So that's your target! I won't let it happen!" Ramlen roared, swinging his bat with everything he had, desperate to turn the tables.
But with a single snap of his fingers on the slime cord, Erin twisted the ball's trajectory as if by magic.
"What the—?! The ball changed direction!" Ramlen froze, too slow to react. "Aiden, get out of there!"
The ball was faster than Ramlen's warning—before he could even finish shouting, it slammed into Aiden, hurling her against a pillar. Her body bounced off the stone and collapsed, unconscious, in the crater left behind. The ball and its slime cord lay beside her, useless now.
"Aiden!" Ramlen's voice cracked with rage and fear. He charged at Erin, all reason forgotten, blind to the traps now littering every inch of this step.
Erin stayed perfectly calm, fingers toying with the slime cord. With a sharp tug, the cords sprang to life—suddenly, slime tendrils whipped out from every direction, dangling like jungle vines.
"Wait a second…" Ramlen's eyes darted around, realization dawning. "The slime cords… He wasn't just tossing that ball around!" Now he could see it: a web of slime stretched across the arena.
Even Aiden, sprawled and helpless, wasn't spared—the cords coiled around her, pinning her tight against the pillar where she'd fallen.
Summoning his last ounce of strength, Ramlen hurled his baseball bat, the flame flaring on its bat. Erin brushed it aside with a flick, as if swatting away a speck of dust.
Ramlen tried to fight back, but the slime cords lashed out, binding his arms and legs, hoisting him up and spreading him wide. Not just his limbs—his entire body was trussed up, leaving him nearly immobile.
"What a shame—all your efforts, wasted," Erin said coolly, strolling over. He snatched up Ramlen's bat, spinning it in his hand like a victor's trophy. "I never planned to kill you, but my head's still pounding from yesterday," he added.
With a single swing, the bat cracked against Ramlen's skull—blood dripped, and Ramlen slumped, unconscious, left dangling in defeat.
Exhausted, Erin collapsed, breath coming in ragged gasps. "What are you doing? Get out of here, now!" I shouted, panic clawing at my throat.
"I'm exhausted too, damn it. I told you, I've got a time limit—this body has stamina, not miracles," Erin muttered, forcing what little strength he had left into trembling legs. His body wavered, but he willed himself upright, staggering toward the portal.
Each step was a battle, but at last Erin slipped through the portal. He found himself not in another mirrored maze, but standing before a heavy door just a few paces away. With trembling hands, he pushed it open and stepped inside—into what was unmistakably someone's office.
At the heart of the room loomed a guillotine—not as an instrument of death, but as a monument to silence. Its mahogany frame, carved with winding vines, had blackened with age, yet the steel blade still glimmered with a cold, hungry sheen. At its base, a heap of faded gray velvet cloths lay scattered, as if once cradling something—or someone.
Dolls with frozen faces perched on rickety ebony shelves: children's playthings, their smiles twisted between delight and torment. Some were cracked, spiderweb fissures marring their ghostly porcelain skin.
A handful of ornate copper birdcages dangled askew from the ceiling, suspended by chains tinged green with rust. Their doors hung open, and the occasional draft whispered through, carrying a melancholy sigh.
In the corner, near a cluttered desk, a cluster of balloons—crimson, sky blue, and pale ivory—floated awkwardly, some half-deflated. Each balloon bore a humanlike face: thin red lips, a single black mark just beside the nose, and wide, painted eyes that seemed to follow the room's every shadow. The air was thick with the vanilla scent of old books, papers and documents piled so high the desktop itself.
"This is the circus's stash," Erin murmured, his voice echoing in the hush, as if his breath alone kept the silence company. He moved quickly, eyes darting over the jumble—wooden crates, battered trunks, faded cloth, and the broken relics of performances long past.
He lunged for the desk, scattering books and papers like autumn leaves in a storm. What had once been neat was now a shipwreck of disorder. "Nothing," he hissed.
He hurried out, plunging into a hallway that felt even narrower than before. Emerging, a familiar place greeted him—the spot where we once hung. And there, just steps from the door, lay the bag he'd been searching for.
"Here it is," Erin said, snatching up the book that had been the root of so much misery.
"Yes," I replied, nodding from the shadows. That damned book.
The bag's weight was exactly as I remembered. Without hesitation, Erin darted out, racing through the darkness, breath ragged, desperate for escape.
But just ahead, he collided with someone—a tall, unyielding figure. A black suit wrapped his frame, a fedora shadowed his face, but his grin and white-painted makeup gleamed even in the gloom. Most striking of all, a single black mark sat just beside his nose.
"Ah, forgive me. I must be a little out of it after work. Are you all right?" The man's voice was gentle, but something in it made the hairs on Erin's neck stand up.
He swung his backpack off his shoulder, unzipped it, and produced a balloon—the very same kind I'd seen before.
Erin froze, face draining of color, eyes locked on the man. Panic flickered across his features, while I, trapped inside, could only whisper, "Erin, apologize—now!"
"This is bad… this guy—" Erin muttered, dread thick in his voice.
In a heartbeat, I was yanked from the back of my own mind, thrust to the surface. That familiar sensation crashed over me—my vision sharpened, the world spun, and the man before me loomed closer, more real than ever.
I had my body back.