Chapter 1264. My Reflection Stopped Copying Me

Chapter 1264: 1264. My Reflection Stopped Copying Me

The floor was mercilessly cold beneath his bare feet as he stepped away from the bed, the plush carpet giving way to the unforgiving bite of polished marble as he approached the private bathroom.

He pushed open the heavy door, stepping into a space that felt more like a temple than a lavatory. The bathroom was cavernous, larger than most of the cramped apartments he had inhabited during his previous life, back when his only concern was where his next meal would come from.

The floor was white marble, veined with streaks of slate grey so intricate they looked like frozen lightning. It was cold and biting, almost a sharp contrast to the feverish heat that had still been clinging to his skin from the night’s exertions.

A massive basin carved from a single block of stone stood beneath a mirror that stretched toward the ceiling, its dark wood frame intricately carved with celestial patterns that seemed to writhe in the dim light.

High above, a narrow window allowed a pale, filtered glow to spill inside, bathing the entire chamber in an ethereal light that made the space feel like the interior of some bleached, ancient seashell.

Rex turned the tap, the sound of rushing water echoing off the stone walls like a distant waterfall. He waited, letting the temperature drop until the water was bone-chillingly cold, then cupped his hands to splash his face.

The shock was immediate. The icy water cut through the last vestiges of sleep like a blade, sending a jolt through his nervous system that left him gasping.

He stayed bent over the basin for several seconds, his hands braced against the cold stone edge, water dripping steadily from his chin and chest onto the marble. His breath came in ragged puffs in the chilled air.

Finally, he straightened.

He drew himself up to his full height and lifted his head to face the mirror, seeking the familiar comfort of his own reflection to ground him before he faced the day.

The reflection looked back at him for exactly one heartbeat, a perfect, mirrored image of a man who had clawed his way out of hell.

And then, the reflection stopped copying him.

Rex had been in the middle of reaching for a towel, his right arm already mid-motion, when the world fractured. His reflection did not reach. It did not move.

It simply stood there, arms hanging unnaturally straight at its sides, wearing his face like a mask that no longer fit.

Rex froze, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped animal.

"What the hell..." he whispered, but his voice sounded hollow, distant.

As he watched, paralyzed by a primal instinct to flee, the face in the mirror began to dissolve. The sharp, defined jawline he had relied on began to blur as if seen through rippling water.

The pale skin drained of all life, turning a sickly, translucent grey, only to be violently overtaken by something else.

A flush of gold and deep, arterial red began to bleed from the center of the glass, spreading outward in swirling patterns like ink dropped into clear water, pulsing with a life of its own.

Then came the transformation. His short, blonde hair began to writhe.

In the mirror, it lengthened unnaturally, strands stretching and growing at impossible speeds until it became a cascading waterfall of burning amber. It moved with a hypnotic fluidity, swaying in a phantom breeze that didn’t exist in the physical room.

Finally, the eyes opened.

They didn’t just open; they ignited. The pupils vanished beneath twin suns of molten gold, glowing with an intensity that seemed to sear through the glass itself.

The light cast strange, dancing shadows across Rex’s own face, though the room around him remained dim.

Rex went utterly still. His muscles locked, his breath died in his throat, and every instinct honed by years of survival screamed at him that he was no longer looking at a reflection.

He was looking at something that had been waiting for him to notice it.

The atmosphere in the bathroom shifted violently. It wasn’t just a visual hallucination; it was a physical assault on his senses.

A low frequency hum began to vibrate through the marble floor, traveling up through the soles of his feet and settling deep in his marrow. Then came the pressure of that unmistakable, nauseating sensation of a seam being forced open between two incompatible realities.

It was exactly what he had felt during the Kaeleth confrontation, that moment when time itself had begun to warp around Aethelgard like taffy, and Lustia had clawed her way into his consciousness.

The air in the room grew unnaturally thick, heavy with the metallic tang of ozone and the cloying sweetness of something ancient and divine. The temperature spiked, turning the chilled bathroom into a humid pressure cooker.

He could feel the strain, the sheer, agonizing effort required to hold that microscopic crack open, a thin, bleeding wound in the fabric of spacetime maintained by an impossible amount of will.

"Good morning, my dear apostle."

The voice didn’t come from the air; it resonated directly inside his skull, silk wrapped around steel.

Lustia was smiling at him from behind the silvered surface of the mirror. It was that particular smile the one that danced between predatory amusement and genuine affection, the expression she wore whenever she had managed to catch him off guard.

Her hair was a living cascade of gold and crimson waves that seemed to burn with their own internal light, framing a face that was terrifyingly beautiful. Her eyes, those twin furnaces of mismatched colors, locked onto his with unsettling intensity.

She wore something that was less clothing and more a suggestion of crimson silk, clinging to her curves like liquid fire. She leaned forward slightly, pressing against the inside of the glass as if she could smell the salt and sweat on his skin through the barrier.

Rex didn’t flinch. He didn’t even recoil.

His survival instinct was so deeply ingrained that even when faced with a goddess breaking the laws of physics, his first reaction was tactical assessment. He kept his expression flat, though one eyebrow rose with cold curiosity.

"This is new," Rex said, his voice gravelly from sleep but steady as stone.

He braced his weight against the marble basin, folding his arms across his bare, scarred chest. "You usually prefer my dreams... Why break the habit?"

"Because of you," Lustia replied.

She said it with the casual certainty of someone stating that the sun would rise, as if her intrusion was the most natural thing in the world. "Or more precisely, because of what you tore from Kaeleth."

Her expression sharpened, the playful teasing fading into something more profound, more dangerous.

"You hold the temporal authority of Aethelgard’s foundation now, Rex."

"That isn’t just power; it’s a key..."

"You’ve rewritten the rules of the city’s existence."

"Before today, this island was sealed against me tightly bound by the ancient pantheon’s wards."

"It was like trying to breathe underwater; I could apply pressure, I could find a crack, but I could never truly enter."

"I was an outsider knocking at a locked door."

She tilted her head, and as she moved, the light from her own eyes bled into the mirror, casting crimson reflections across the white marble floor.

"But you didn’t just unlock the door, my apostle."

"You shattered the hinges... The barrier has become porous."

"The walls between my domain and yours have grown thin, fragile... and now, I can finally reach through."