The reflection struck first.
A fist slammed into Arthur's jaw, snapping his head sideways. He stumbled, spitting blood, the copper taste grounding him in the moment.
His double moved like him. Fought like him. But there was something darker—smoother—in its movements. Like it wasn't just mimicking him…
It was trying to replace him.
"You've spent years pretending you're above it," the reflection hissed, voice like glass dragging across stone. "But I am the truth beneath the silence."
Arthur didn't respond. He charged instead.
Their bodies collided—flesh, muscle, grit. Arthur's punch connected with the reflection's ribs, but the echo barely flinched. It retaliated with a savage uppercut to Arthur's gut, lifting him off his feet and slamming him to the floor.
The chains around Arthur's wrists—unseen but real—dragged like anchors.
Every movement felt harder. Slower.
"You let Evelyn fall."
A knee drove into Arthur's side.
"You watched Silas spiral."
A forearm smashed across his cheek.
"You brought Luke here, knowing it would end in blood."
Arthur hit the floor hard.
He stayed down.
Breathing.
Bleeding.
The reflection knelt beside him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and lifting his head.
"You can't fight me, Arthur. I am you. The part that never stopped hearing the screams."
Arthur's eyes met his double's.
There was no fear in them now.
Only rage—and something deeper.
Resolve.
He slammed his forehead into the reflection's nose. Bone crunched.
The grip loosened.
Arthur surged upward with a guttural roar, driving his shoulder into the echo's chest. They tumbled, fists flying—no technique now, just pain and fire. The reflection clawed at his face, but Arthur pinned it down, hammering blows into its ribs, its throat, its skull.
"I remember everything," Arthur growled through clenched teeth. "And that's why I fight. Not to forget. Not to erase. But to endure."
The reflection began to scream—not in pain, but in fear. Cracks spiderwebbed across its face like porcelain.
Arthur reared back and drove one final punch into its chest.
The body exploded into a cloud of smoke and glass-like shards, vanishing into the air.
Silence followed.
He stood, breathing hard.
The mirror was gone.
But the chains?
Now they were real.
Black metal wrapped around his wrists, etched in ancient sigils. No lock. No key. Just weight.
His arms trembled—not from weakness, but from understanding.
This wasn't a burden he could shed.
It was a truth he had to carry.
"If this is the cost," he whispered, flexing his fingers, "then so be it."
Behind him, footsteps echoed.
Someone was coming.
Arthur turned, face bloodied but calm.
And walked toward the sound.