The moment Honkai stepped into the chamber, the air thickened. Not with dust, but with memory.
Static buzzed in the walls. Blue lightning danced along the ceiling like veins in a living beast. His boots echoed with every step. Each footfall heavier than the last.
In the center stood a mirror.
Not cracked. Not aged.
Perfect.
Honkai hated mirrors.
He knew what it would show. Not his face. Not really.
His reflection stepped forward before he could.
Younger. Cleaner. Proud.
"I remember this place," the reflection said. "The corridor before the betrayal."
Honkai said nothing.
"You let them call you a traitor," the reflection continued. "Let them bury the truth. You could've crushed them. But you ran."
"I didn't run," Honkai growled. "I was forced to disappear."
"Excuses."
The mirror-self raised its hand.
Lightning exploded.
Honkai was thrown back, slamming into the stone. Sparks hissed across his shoulders. He stood again.
"No more pretending," he said.
He surged forward, lightning ripping from his fists. The two Honkais collided. Thunder cracked. Sparks tore through the air like spears.
Every strike was a memory.
A betrayal. A scream. A broken oath.
He yelled—fury and sorrow bleeding into every punch.
Finally—he struck the mirror-version through the chest. Lightning burst outward, shattering the reflection into a thousand glowing shards.
Silence.
In the center of the room floated a golden-yellow crystal.
He stepped forward, chest heaving, and touched it.
A pulse.
Power surged into his veins—like lightning had always been a part of him. A truth he'd buried.
He looked at his reflection in the shards.
And this time—he wasn't ashamed.