Chapter 244: Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Grimhilde charged to the front lines, her mantis-like pincers tearing through two of the grotesque flesh golems in a single sweep. But despite their initial success, many of the cursed creatures had been imprisoned for far too long. Most had lost their fighting instinct, some even forgot how to fight altogether. Years of confinement left their muscles weak and reflexes dulled. It wasn't long before they began to tire, and the golems drove them back with relentless force.

Jon observed the battle in silence, nodding slightly. "They've got good combat power," he muttered to himself. "It's just that they've been locked up too long. Give them some time to recover, and they'll be formidable allies."

He exhaled and stepped forward. "Alright, that's enough. From this point on, they're our people. Letting any of them die now would be a waste."

As the tide of battle turned against them, a violent surge of fire suddenly erupted behind the group. Hellfire roared through the air, slamming into the golems and reducing them to ash in an instant.

The stunned prisoners turned to see the source of the blaze.

"He's with us?" one of the werewolves asked, bewildered. "Then why the hell didn't he step in earlier?"

Up until now, Grimhilde had taken the lead, rescuing captives, dealing with guards, while Jon seemed content to watch from the sidelines. Many of the prisoners hadn't even registered him as a threat.

A guard hiding behind a wall turned pale. He had been enjoying the carnage like a twisted spectator until his precious golems were annihilated in a heartbeat.

"What the hell?! How did someone that strong end up a prisoner?"

But before he could flee, Grimhilde's claws lashed out, shredding him on the spot.

"Don't just stand there! Keep moving!" she barked.

The group surged forward, following Grimhilde to the next floor.

"It's here," she rasped. "I can feel it... something's calling me."

Jon followed her curiosity piqued, all the way to the end of the sixth floor's prison wing. Along the way, they freed more captives, including witches and cursed beings.

At the far end stood a heavily warded chamber, unlike the others. There were no prisoners inside. Instead, it resembled a vault. This room bore the most intricate sealing runes of the entire floor—all meant to contain a singular, terrifying artifact.

With a savage swipe of her claws, Grimhilde tore through the heavy vault doors and stepped inside, her grotesque grin widening.

"Hehehehehe," she cackled, the sound unnerving even the cursed creatures behind her.

"At last..." she murmured. "You can serve me once again."

Inside, a black cloth lay draped over something. Jon narrowed his eyes, waiting as she slowly pulled it away.

"Let my call reach you once more... Mirror, mirror..."

As her words fell, green flames burst across the cloth, burning it to cinders. In its place hovered a flawless, ornate mirror wreathed in eerie green fire. A pale, brooding face appeared within the glass, not Grimhilde's, but that of a spectral man.

The mirror floated into the air and spoke: "At your service, my mistress."

Jon gawked. "Wait... Mirror? Magic mirror?!"

Of course, with Snow White and her wicked stepmother, how could there not be a magic mirror?

Grimhilde clutched it proudly. "Yes, this is the artifact. A powerful magical relic. With this, I can open a portal and send everyone to safety."

She turned to Jon and noticed his hesitation, as though he wanted to speak but wasn't sure how.

"What?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "So... uh... can I borrow the mirror for a second?"

Grimhilde looked suspicious but handed it over.

Jon held it up, peering into the face within. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall... who is the most handsome of them all?"

The prisoners collectively collapsed to the floor.

But the mirror responded seriously. "Why even ask? Of course I am."

"What the hell?!" Jon recoiled. "You narcissistic freak!"

He turned to Grimhilde, incredulous. "You trained it to be like this?!"

She gave an exasperated shrug.

Jon tried again. "Fine. Then who's the second most handsome?"

The mirror rippled like disturbed water, and another face emerged, that of King Kirk, the so-called charming prince.

Jon stared. "Are you blind? Come on! I look way better than that poser."

He lowered the mirror with a frown. "You judge based on public opinion, not truth."

Grimhilde raised a claw, halting Jon before he could vent his frustration further. "It's perception magic. It reflects recognition, not reality. You know that."

In truth, the mirror ranked beauty based on visibility and renown. A person could be stunning, but if unknown, the mirror wouldn't acknowledge them. Someone like Snow White, for example, might have cast glamours to warp public perception.

With a swift spell, she caused the mirror to shrink into a pendant, then looped it around her neck.

"Let's go. We're wasting time," she growled.

Together, Jon and Grimhilde stormed through the tower, floor by floor, freeing every last prisoner. With the magic mirror amplifying her power, Grimhilde was even deadlier.

Before long, they reached the tower's main gate. But the chaos they'd unleashed had already caught the attention of the palace.

Waiting for them outside... was Snow White herself.

Leading a full military force.

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