Episode 34: The Blade That Cut Too Deep
The mirror fractured with a sound like steel grinding bone. Shards of glass didn’t fall—they hovered, orbiting Akira in a jagged circle, each piece reflecting a different version of him.
Bloodstained hands. Cold, merciless eyes. A blade dripping red.
The whispers swelled, rising into a chant.
Akira Daisuke. Akira Daisuke. Akira Daisuke.
He froze. His grip on the katana tightened until his knuckles whitened.
“...Tch. So that’s how it is.”
Kuro staggered but forced himself upright, emberblade braced at his side. “Akira—don’t let it in. Fight it like I did.”
But Akira shook his head, gaze fixed on the mirror. His jaw clenched, voice low. “This one’s mine. If I can’t face it, I’ve got no right to stand beside you.”
The mirror convulsed, shattering completely. From its pieces stepped a figure identical to him—but his aura was different. He radiated killing intent so heavy the chamber shook. His blade dripped shadows that hissed against the floor.
The Doppelgänger smirked. “You call yourself a swordsman, but all you’ve ever been is a butcher. Every life you cut down, every order you followed without question—you enjoyed it.”
Akira’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up.”
Elira raised a hand, frostfire swirling nervously. “This labyrinth twists truths. Don’t listen—”
Akira cut her off, voice sharper than his blade. “Princess. Stay back. This is my fight.”
The Doppelgänger’s laughter echoed, cruel and unrelenting. “Do you even remember their faces? The men you killed before you ever met this ‘Kuro Jin’? The master who cast you aside when your blade grew too drenched in blood?”
Images spilled across the walls.
Akira, younger, standing in a dojo. His blade gleamed, but his eyes burned too fiercely. Opponents fell one by one, some in practice, some on the battlefield. Their screams lingered long after their bodies dropped.
His master’s voice echoed. A sword without restraint is no disciple of mine. Leave.
Akira flinched, eyes darkening. “I never forgot.”
The Doppelgänger’s smirk widened. “Exactly. You cut because you could. Because killing was easier than restraint. And now? You hide behind this foreigner, pretending loyalty makes you clean.”
Kuro’s fists clenched. “That’s not true—”
Akira snapped, louder than before. “I said it’s my fight!”
He drew his katana, the steel ringing with a sound that pierced even the whispers. His voice was low, rough. “...If there’s a truth in his words, I’ll carve it out myself.”
Steel met shadow as Akira clashed with his darker self. Each strike was mirrored perfectly—stance, speed, precision. Sparks flew, every impact threatening to split the chamber.
Elira and Kuro watched, powerless to intervene.
“He’s fighting himself,” Elira murmured, eyes trembling. “If we interfere, the Labyrinth could consume him.”
Kuro’s gaze hardened. “...Then all we can do is make sure he has something to come back to.”
Inside the duel, the Doppelgänger pressed harder, every blow heavier, faster. “You see? Your blade answers me perfectly—because I am you. You can’t cut me without cutting yourself.”
Akira panted, sweat streaking his face. His arms shook under the pressure. His thoughts spiraled back. Every mercenary job. Every corpse. Every night he couldn’t sleep because blood wouldn’t wash from his hands.
The Doppelgänger’s blade nicked his cheek, drawing crimson.
“You’re a killer,” it whispered. “Not a protector.”
For a heartbeat—Akira faltered.
Kuro shouted, voice raw. “Akira! You think I chose you because you were perfect?! No—I chose you because you carry that weight and still fight for more!”
Elira added, frostfire lacing her words. “You’re not defined by the blood you spilled—you’re defined by the path you cut after it!”
Their voices reached him—just barely.
Akira’s breath steadied. His stance shifted. He exhaled slowly, katana lowering slightly—not in surrender, but in clarity.
“...You’re right.” His eyes sharpened, steel-clear. “I was a butcher. But every step since meeting Kuro... every battle we’ve fought... has been my oath. To wield this blade differently.”
The Doppelgänger snarled, lunging with vicious force. “Lies! A sword cannot change its nature!”
Akira’s voice was steady, his katana gleaming as he raised it high. “Then I’ll forge a new nature.”
The chamber shook as his blade descended.
Steel met shadow—then split it clean in two.
The Doppelgänger screamed, form fracturing into countless shards of blood and steel.
[System Alert: Sword Oath Achieved]
[New Skill Unlocked – Crimson Vow: Every strike drawn in defense of allies burns brighter, cuts deeper.]
The fragments dissolved into light, searing into Akira’s blade.
Akira stood panting, blood dripping from his cheek. His katana gleamed with a faint crimson edge, alive with his will.
Kuro smirked faintly. “...Took you long enough.”
Akira gave him a flat look, then exhaled slowly. “...If you die first, I’ll kill you again myself.”
Elira almost laughed—almost. But her gaze softened, voice quieter. “You didn’t just win, Akira. You chose.”
For a moment, he let himself believe it.
The corridor shifted once more, runes flaring across the walls.
[System Update: Labyrinth Trial – Phase Three Complete]
[Identity Stabilization: 97%]
[Warning: Final Candidate Detected]
The path forward opened. At its center, shadows coiled into a throne of frost and fire.
Elira froze. Her heart skipped a beat.
Because this throne was hers.
The whispers rose again, curling with icy venom.
Elira Valenhart. Elira Valenhart. Daughter of a king. Heir of a curse.
The frostfire around her flickered violently.
Kuro’s jaw tightened. “...So the Labyrinth isn’t done with you yet.” Dıscover more novels at 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝔫𝔢𝔱