The mountain screamed.
A chorus of dying timelines echoed through the snowy cliffs as the Mirror's army emerged—an impossible legion forged from alternate realities. Each twisted figure bore a familiar face, a familiar scar, a memory that wasn't quite right.
Valerian's heart pounded—not with fear, but recognition.
They were him.
One had no eyes, only seared sockets where system updates had failed. Another wore a crown of flame, his kingdom burned down by ambition. A third dragged a blade chained to a dead planet, sorrow etched into every motion.
All versions of himself.
All the paths he didn't take.
All the failures.
"This is your legacy," the Mirror said calmly, arms spread as if presenting a gallery. "Every world where you thought you could rewrite fate. You died, you killed, you burned, and still… you believed you were different."
Valerian's jaw tightened. "I am different."
"You're not," the Mirror replied, stepping forward. "You're just another variable in the code. I'm what happens when the system stops pretending. When it stops guiding… and starts correcting."
Behind Valerian, Kael drew his sword, its silver edge humming. "You done monologuing?"
With a war cry, Kael charged—straight into a burning version of Valerian with molten skin and ember eyes. The clash ignited a shockwave that shattered nearby stone.
Lira loosed a barrage of spectral arrows, striking through three echoes—one crumbled, another twisted into smoke, and the third turned and laughed, catching her by the throat mid-air.
"Help—!" she gasped.
Seraphine's spell split the sky, a spiral of flame crashing down and searing the enemy to ash. "I've got her!"
Selene fought beside her, blades weaving deadly arcs. "We hold the field—Valerian, go!"
He hesitated for only a breath.
Then sprinted straight for the Mirror.
They collided at the mountain's heart, steel clashing, void meeting void.
Their swords screamed on contact. Reality fractured around them. The mountain cracked. Trees shattered. Snow lifted into a vortex.
"You know why you'll lose?" the Mirror hissed. "Because you still believe you're real."
Valerian gritted his teeth and shoved forward, his blade lighting with violet fire. "And you think pretending to be me makes you more than a shadow?"
The Mirror grinned. "I'm not a shadow. I'm the reflection."
Then he vanished.
Instantly, Valerian was surrounded.
Ten echoes closed in, each from a different life:
—One had killed Lira and wore her pendant.
—One knelt in chains, bound to a golden system throne.
—One wore the robes of a god, face cracked from the weight of eternity.
They struck at once.
Valerian spun, parried, dodged. The blade sung in his hands, slashing into one, kicking another back. Blood spilled—not red, but silver, liquid code.
Still they kept coming.
He turned—and met eyes with an echo that was smiling. Peaceful. Gentle.
"I gave it all up," the echo whispered. "I let them win. And I lived."
For a heartbeat, Valerian faltered.
The echo stabbed.
Pain exploded in his side. He stumbled, the blade sinking deep, but he refused to fall.
"I'm not you," Valerian growled. "Not any of you."
He flared with power—not from the system, but his own raw will. His soul burned with violet fire, and he unleashed it in a roar.
The echoes nearest him vaporized.
The Mirror reappeared in the blast's wake, clapping slowly. "Impressive. You've embraced your myth. But what happens when the myth turns on you?"
He gestured.
And then he stepped out.
Not a failure. Not a twisted echo.
But Alex Caelum.
Original. Unbroken. Before the reincarnation. Before Valerian.
He was calm, dressed in a school uniform stained with blood. His eyes held both innocence and cruelty—like a boy who had stared too long into the abyss and decided to own it.
Valerian froze.
"You…" he whispered.
Alex nodded. "You kept my name."
"What are you?"
"I'm what was left behind when you were reborn. I didn't vanish, Valerian. I watched. As you took my face, my guilt, my power. And you squandered it trying to be better."
"You're not real."
"I'm more real than you. I didn't need a system to become strong. I embraced the truth."
Valerian charged.
Their swords clashed—memory versus resolve, guilt versus defiance. The mountain shook again, a storm forming above them. Violet lightning and black fire swirled like divine wrath.
Around them, the echoes fell—Lira, Kael, and the others holding the lines with desperate fury.
But Valerian was alone now.
Face to face with his origin.
Alex ducked under a swing, slammed his shoulder into Valerian's ribs, and knocked him back.
"You wanted power. You got it. And now look at you—terrified of yourself."
Valerian coughed, blood trailing from his lips. "You lost the right to preach the moment you chose to abandon humanity."
Alex tilted his head. "Humanity is the chain. You broke it—and then ran back like a dog."
Valerian stood, one hand over his wound, breathing hard.
He remembered the faces—Lira's sorrow, Seraphine's defiance, Kael's loyalty, Selene's cold confidence.
They weren't echoes.
They were his.
He wasn't just Valerian anymore.
He was the sum of what came before, and what he chose to become.
He planted his feet. "You're right, Alex. I did steal your name. But that's all I took. The rest? That's mine."
His aura ignited—brighter than ever before.
The Mirror stepped back.
Alex charged.
Valerian met him halfway.
Their swords collided with a sound like a dying star.
And the mountain exploded into light.