They stood at the beginning of a long, vaulted corridor hewn from black stone. Torches flickered in sconces along the walls, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to stretch toward the far end of the hall.

At the end of the corridor stood a massive archway, easily twenty feet high. But instead of wood or iron, the space within the arch was filled with a shimmering, vertical pool of liquid silver. It rippled silently, like a pond disturbed by a stone that never sank.

Above the arch, carved into the keystone in archaic script, were words that glowed with a faint, judgmental light:

ONLY THE SELFLESS AND BLIND TO VANITY MAY ENTER

Ray stood near the back of the group, Eliza at his side. Ahead of them, the three members of Team SIS, Darian Varrus and the Ramsey brothers, Kogar and Kima, spread out, their heavy armor clanking in the silence. They looked like walking fortresses, confident and aggressive.

Darian stopped ten feet from the silver barrier, resting his massive training mace on his shoulder. He squinted at the inscription.

“Selfless and blind to vanity,”

Darian read aloud, his voice echoing. He scoffed, spitting on the floor.

“Riddles. Typical Arcanum nonsense. They want us to waste time holding hands and singing songs.”

“It’s a barrier, boss,”

Kogar rumbled from behind his tower shield.

“Looks liquid. Maybe we can swim it?”

“Or we just break it,”

Kima added, hefting his greatsword.

Ray’s internal committee was already dissecting the scene.

Scholar: “That substance… it displays the viscosity of mercury but the resonance of a high-grade mana conductor. It’s not a wall; it’s a reactive surface. ‘Spell-Refraction Crystal Core’ in a liquid state. Fascinating.”

Veteran: “Look at the spacing. No cover. If that thing shoots back, there’s nowhere to hide. Let the heavy infantry take the lead. That’s what meat shields are for.”

Ray activated the Understudy Protocol’s Resonant Link feature and nudged Eliza gently.

Stay back. Let them test the perimeter.

Eliza nodded imperceptibly, her hand tightening on her staff.

“Darian,”

she called out, her voice cool.

“The inscription suggests a character test. Perhaps we should…”

“Quiet, Vance,”

Darian snapped without looking back.

“The Headmaster said they’re testing leadership. That means taking action, not debating philosophy with the furniture.”

He pointed his mace at the gate.

“Kogar. Front and center. Shield up. Push through it. If it’s viscous, we just need enough mass to puncture the surface tension.”

Kogar grunted, stepping forward. He slammed his visor down, locking himself into a steel can. He raised his tower shield, braced his shoulder, and charged.

It was a text-book breach maneuver. Kogar was a heavy boy, and with the armor, he was a juggernaut. He hit the silver surface with the force of a battering ram.

He didn’t splash through.

CRUNCH.

The sound was sickeningly solid, like a hammer hitting an anvil.

At the exact moment of impact, the liquid silver had rippled and extruded outward. In the blink of an eye, it formed a perfect, mirror-bright duplicate of Kogar, shield, armor, and mass included.

‘Real Kogar’ slammed into ‘Silver-Kogar.’

The force was perfectly equal. Neither moved an inch. Kogar grunted, digging his boots into the stone floor, veins popping in his neck as he pushed with everything he had. The Reflection pushed back with the exact same force, its faceless silver head tilted in a mockery of effort.

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“What the hell?”

Darian muttered.

“Kima! Help him! Double impact!”

Kima roared, swinging his greatsword in a massive, two-handed overhead chop, aiming to split the Reflection that was blocking his brother.

The silver liquid rippled again. A second figure erupted from the surface, a ‘Silver-Kima.’

It swung its own silver greatsword.

CLANG.

The blades met in mid-air with a shower of sparks. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the hall, rattling Ray’s teeth. Kima staggered back, his arms vibrating from the impact. The Reflection didn’t stumble; it simply held its ground, perfectly mimicking Kima’s recovery stance.

“It’s mimicking them,”

Eliza whispered.

“Equal force.”

“Whatever you give it, it gives back,”

Ray murmured.

Darian growled, his patience snapping.

“Useless! Both of you, fall back!”

The Ramsey brothers retreated, panting, their heavy boots scuffing against the stone. The Silver Reflections didn’t chase them; they simply melted back into the pool, leaving the surface smooth and undisturbed.

Darian stepped forward, his face red with frustration and the humiliation of his men failing.

“Fine,”

he spat.

“If muscle won’t work, we burn it down.”

He raised his left gauntlet. Embedded in the wrist was a massive, cut ruby that pulsed with a deep, internal light. It wasn’t a simple cantrip focus; it was a repository, a gem enchanted to hold a spell far beyond an Initiate’s capacity.

Detective: “He’s cheating. That’s a stored 2nd-Circle spell. A ‘Flaming Sphere.’ He didn’t learn that; his father bought it for him. He’s bringing a cannon to a fistfight.”

“Darian, wait!”

Eliza warned, sensing the build-up of volatile mana in the gem.

“The inscription says…”

Darian ignored her. He didn’t perform the complex somatic gestures required to weave such a spell; he didn’t have the skill. Instead, he simply leveled the gauntlet at the gate like a weapon and shouted the activation command.

“Ignis Rotare!”

The ruby flared with a blinding, angry light. The air in front of him twisted violently, smelling sharply of sulfur and burning tallow. With a deafening whoosh, the pre-cast spell was unleashed from its prison. A roiling, semi-solid ball of orange flame, fully five feet in diameter, erupted into existence, hovering inches above the flagstones.

“Vade!” (Go!)

Darian thrust his fist forward.

The sphere obeyed the command. It didn’t fly; it rolled. It tumbled toward the gate with the heavy, grinding sound of a boulder on fire, leaving a scorched black trail on the stone floor as it gathered speed.

The Mirror didn’t ripple this time. It flashed.

Before Darian’s bought power could touch the surface, the silver liquid flared a deep, angry crimson. An identical, five-foot sphere of roaring fire erupted from the surface. It wasn’t a stored spell; it was a perfect reflection of the kinetic and magical force Darian had unleashed.

The two spheres collided in the center of the hallway.

BOOM.

It wasn’t a spark; it was a localized inferno. The two masses of magical fire struggled for dominance, churning against each other in a violent vortex of heat. But the Mirror’s sphere possessed an unstoppable, reflected momentum. It plowed through Darian’s construct, destabilizing the enchantment and detonating both spells in a massive, combined wave of concussive force and fire.

The shockwave slammed into Darian. He was lifted off his feet and thrown backward, flying ten feet through the air before crashing hard onto his back. His expensive chest plate was scorched black, the protective enchantments flaring and shattering as they barely saved his ribs from being crushed.

He lay there for a moment, wheezing, smoke rising from his tunic, the smell of ozone and burnt fabric filling the hall.

The hall fell silent.

Ray watched, his face impassive, though he felt the heat wash over him. The Grizzled Veteran gave a grunt of grim satisfaction.

Veteran: “Target analysis confirmed. The barrier reflects kinetic and magical energy with a 1:1 ratio. Brute force is a zero-sum game. He pushed a boulder uphill, and it rolled right back over him.”

Darian groaned, struggling to sit up. He looked at the gate with pure hatred, then turned his glare on Ray and Eliza, his face smeared with soot.

“Well?!”

he barked, his voice cracking slightly.

“You two are supposed to be the geniuses! I tested the defenses. Now fix it!”

“You didn’t test the defenses,”

Eliza said coldly.

“You picked a fight with a mirror.”

She looked at Ray.

“It’s the inscription, isn’t it? ‘Blind to vanity.’”

Ray nodded. He stepped past the groaning Darian and the wary Ramsey brothers. He walked up to the shimmering wall of silver.

He could see himself in it. A small boy with golden hair and serious eyes. The reflection stared back, its expression unreadable.

Courtier: “It demands humility. To push is an act of ego. To yield is an act of grace.”

Ray took a deep breath. He didn’t raise his hands. He didn’t channel mana. He deliberately unclasped his hands and held them open at his sides, showing he held no weapon, no spell.

He looked the reflection in the eye.

Then, he bowed. It was a deep, courtly bow, a gesture of genuine respect and deferral.

“After you,”

Ray whispered.

The reflection paused. Then, it bowed back.

As the reflection straightened, it stepped to the side. The liquid silver around it parted, forming a dry, arch-shaped tunnel through the barrier.

“It’s open,”

Ray said, his voice calm.

He walked forward. He didn’t flinch as he passed through the wall of magical quicksilver. It felt warm on his skin, like standing in a sunbeam, but it offered no resistance. He stepped out onto the other side, into a small, circular antechamber.

He turned back. Through the tunnel, he could see the stunned faces of Team SIS.

“Eliza,”

Ray called out.

“Remember the second part. ‘Blind to vanity.’”

Eliza nodded. She understood. She couldn’t bow, her pride was too spiky for that. Instead, she closed her eyes tightly. She took a breath, trusting Ray’s voice on the other side, and walked forward blindly.

Because she couldn’t see her reflection, the Mirror had nothing to show her. She passed through the barrier as if it were mist, opening her eyes only when she stood beside Ray.

“Clever,”

She murmured.

On the other side, Darian scrambled to his feet. He looked at the open tunnel, then at the bowing reflection Ray had left behind, which had now vanished.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep