The Infinite Trial

Karl blinked as the world around him shifted and distorted. The familiar landscape of the Quantum Trial faded, replaced by an eerie, endless expanse of mirrors. He stood in the center of the room, his heart racing as he observed his surroundings. Every surface was a mirror, each one reflecting his image back at him. But there was something unsettling about it—his reflection seemed... off. It didn't quite match his movements, as though it were a few seconds behind, or perhaps, a few steps ahead.

Karl clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the objects he'd acquired from the Lucky Wheel. A whiteboard, a glass cup, and a wooden door. What use were these in a room full of mirrors? The door felt heavy in his hands, the wood cold and oddly foreign to his touch.

Suddenly, the voice of Glitch crackled in his mind, low and almost sorrowful.

"You need an armor, Karl."

"I know!" Karl growled, frustration creeping into his voice. How was a glass cup and a wooden door supposed to help him now? He scanned the mirrors for any sign of the other players or a way out, but everything was perfectly still, reflecting only his own anxious face.

"Remember the rules," Glitch's voice continued, its tone more serious now. "In this game, you're fighting your own reflection. Trust no one... especially not yourself."

Karl frowned. Fighting his own reflection? That was a twisted concept, but it made sense. If the mirror was showing him a version of himself, then surely it could fight back with the same tactics he used. But was it really him?

Before he could ponder this further, a sudden mechanical noise echoed through the room, followed by the host's voice, booming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Welcome, players, to Mirror Melee: Rift Wars! You have one hour to adapt, one hour to survive. The mirrors are your battlefield, your enemies are your reflections. Fight, survive, or be trapped in the rift forever."

Karl's heart skipped a beat. One hour? That wasn't much time. He gripped the door tightly, considering his options. The mirrors around him shimmered slightly, as though something was waiting to emerge from their depths.

"Show yourself," Karl muttered, steeling himself. His reflection in the nearest mirror stood still, eerily watching him, but did not move. He turned toward the door in his hands. He needed to use it somehow, and fast.

Screech.

A loud noise broke the silence, followed by the sound of footsteps, but it wasn't his own. His reflection had moved. It stepped forward, its eyes locked onto his with a cold intensity. This was it. His opponent. The reflection didn't seem to hesitate, immediately assuming the same stance he had.

Karl narrowed his eyes and took a step back, eyeing the whiteboard and the cup. The glass cup seemed fragile, but it could still be used as a weapon... maybe as a distraction or a blinding tool. The whiteboard, on the other hand, was plain and unassuming, but it might be useful for something more strategic—maybe to trap or confuse his reflection.

His reflection mirrored his movements, but there was a glint in its eyes that seemed... almost too real. The game had begun.

 He wasn't alone in this room. The reflection wasn't just a mirror of him—it was a trap, a twisted version of himself meant to test his resolve.

Karl's mind spun. How do I fight this? His hand instinctively went to the glass cup, gripping it tightly. Maybe it wasn't a weapon, but it could distract the reflection long enough to think. But no, the reflection would just do the same thing.

Think, Karl. Think.

His mind whirred as the reflection moved again. This time, it rushed forward, arms outstretched. Karl barely dodged, twisting away just in time as his reflection collided with the wooden door. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, and the mirrors seemed to tremble

"Damn it!" Karl muttered under his breath. There had to be a way to turn this around. The reflection wasn't just mimicking him—it was anticipating him.

Then, it hit him

"ouch"

The mirrors weren't just reflections—they were reactions. Every action Karl took, the reflection reacted in kind

Karl took a step back, watching the reflection carefully. It watched him, ready to mirror his every move. He took a deep breath, then slammed the door into the mirror next to him.

The reflection recoiled in shock, not able to predict this move. For just a moment, the mirror broke—cracks running across its surface—and in that split second, Karl rushed forward, throwing the glass cup directly at the reflection's face.

The cup shattered upon impact, the shards cutting across the reflection's cheek, but instead of the pain he expected, the reflection simply smiled, its mouth twisting into a grotesque grin. The glass had no effect.

Karl's pulse quickened. This wasn't going to be as simple as outsmarting a mirror. The reflection was evolving with him, anticipating his next move with terrifying precision. It wasn't just a test of strength; it was a test of his mind. A battle of wills. And Karl knew that the longer he stayed in this room, the more the trial would twist and turn against him.

One hour. The thought kept echoing in his mind.

The timer was running out. And with every passing second, the rift zones grew more unstable. More mirrors cracked. More reflections blurred.

He was running out of time.

Karl's mind raced. The reflection was adapting to his moves, reacting faster with every second. If he attacked, it defended. If he hesitated, it closed in. He was trapped in a loop—a game designed to wear him down.

But then, something clicked.

The reflection only reacted when Karl did something deliberate. It was mirroring his intent, not just his actions. That meant…

Karl took a deep breath and did something entirely unnatural.

He let go.

His hands slackened, the wooden door slipping from his grip, the tension in his body fading. He didn't brace for a fight. He didn't prepare to dodge.

He simply stopped.

For a split second, the reflection hesitated.

The pause was microscopic, but Karl saw it.

That was it. The game wasn't expecting him to surrender control—it was expecting him to fight. It was a test of defiance, of struggle. And Karl had been playing along.

He took it further. He let his knees buckle, allowing himself to stumble—not a move to dodge, not a trick, but a genuine collapse.

The reflection twitched. It wanted to follow, but it couldn't process an action that wasn't driven by intent.

Karl grinned. You're just a machine, aren't you? The mirror trial wasn't testing strength. It was testing reaction.

Now that he had it figured out, he went all in.

Instead of fighting, Karl did the exact opposite—he started acting randomly.

He turned in a slow, awkward circle. He lifted one arm, then dropped it. He stumbled left, then right, then laughed to himself as if he had lost his mind.

The reflection glitched.

It struggled to follow. Its movements became erratic, delayed. Its once-perfect synchronization shattered, and the cracks in the mirrors deepened.

Karl took the final step.

With an exaggerated, lazy motion, he raised his fist—then, without warning, he punched the ground instead of the reflection.

The mirrors screamed.

Shards exploded outward. The reflection convulsed, unable to process the broken pattern. The entire room shuddered, the distorted images collapsing into fragments of light.

Karl didn't wait. He grabbed the wooden door from the ground and slammed it against the nearest mirror.

CRACK!

The room imploded. The mirrors shattered, he saw people behind the rooms.

"Stage 2, Free for all is unlocked"