New ally

You're quite the curious one. Still clinging to the past, are you?

A deep, resonant voice echoed around Julius, just as the mirrors around him shattered—revealing a figure hidden behind the illusion.

An old man stood there, draped in flowing white garments. His eyes were a piercing blue, contrasting with his jet-black hair and matching beard. Though his appearance was aged, his face bore a calm, almost amused smile.

"Who are you?!" Julius growled, his voice filled with defiance. "Stop playing games with me. This is a cheap trick—and I won't fall for it! You're nothing but a cursed relic! Don't act clever with me!"

His thoughts swirled into chaos. The memories, the haunting image of a familiar man—Phantomore—and the sensation of nostalgia. Yet, Julius remained alert. He was still under the influence of a cursed relic. He needed to be certain whether this artifact was hostile or benign.

He had learned a bitter truth: cursed relics were not born; they were made—once human, twisted by a mysterious figure who exploited their pain and turned them into eternal prisoners of their own torment. But why? Why would someone do that? Perhaps… the answer lay here.

"Hmm… A cursed relic, you say?" the old man's voice was cool, tinged with mockery. "But deep down, you know I was once human. And more than that… you've already freed another cursed relic before, haven't you? Fascinating."

He knows too much… Julius thought grimly. I can't lose my composure. I need to confirm something… is he truly a cursed relic or something else?

With forced levity, Julius smirked. "Looks like I'll need to take you more seriously, old man."

Then, carefully: "Are you a cursed relic?"

"Of course. I am known as Soul Mirror," the man answered calmly.

"But that doesn't make sense. You're fully aware of yourself. I haven't even freed you yet," Julius replied with thinly veiled suspicion.

"The reason I've regained my awareness… is you." The man's expression turned soft, almost joyful.

"Because of me?" Julius asked cautiously.

"You're… different. Your power removed the chains that bound my mind for centuries. For so long, I trapped people in illusions made from their worst memories—their fears, their regrets."

His voice trembled with old sorrow.

"I caught a glimpse of your past… just fragments. And your future? It remains veiled, even to me. You're an enigma, young man." The man smiled, a trace of curiosity in his tone.

So it's true, Julius thought. I may actually have the power to free cursed relics from their binds.

Then he narrowed his eyes. There was something he had to ask.

"Do you… remember the one who turned you into a cursed relic?"

The old man's brows furrowed.

"How could I forget his face?" he answered, pain seeping into his voice.

"Then tell me—what did he look like?" Julius asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

"You already know him. He's the same one who ended your life as Elias Corvin," the man said calmly.

"W-What?!" Julius staggered back. "Are you saying… the one turning humans into cursed relics… is the Dark King?!"

"The Dark King… a fitting name for one who manipulates human souls and feeds on their pain." The old man stroked his beard, as if deep in thought.

Julius, however, stood frozen.

That bastard chasing me, trying to erase me from existence… he's the one behind all of this too? But why? What's his endgame? Does he just want to destroy humanity?

"You seem lost in thought, young one," the old man interrupted gently. "Allow me to offer you something."

Julius blinked, pulled from his racing thoughts. "An… offer?" he asked warily.

"I could've begged you to free me and release me from these chains," the man said firmly, "but I refuse to let that man walk free. The one you call the Dark King… he made me slaughter thousands against my will. I want revenge. And it seems he's an enemy to us both."

He doesn't want freedom… he wants justice.

Julius exhaled slowly. To be aided by a cursed relic… and a third-grade one, no less. That could change everything.

"But you're under Cathedral custody. I can't just walk out of here with you."

"That's easily handled," the old man replied. "I'll transform from a mirror into a timepiece—something you can carry. But you'll need to explain the mirror's destruction to your superiors."

"You mean, once you become a watch, I wear you?" Julius asked. "But… what do you mean by destruction?"

"I'll shrink down to form the watch, which will shatter the mirror in the process. Just tell your superiors that I lured you into an illusion, and when it broke… the mirror was destroyed."

Julius nodded. "It's a shady excuse… but believable. You did lure me in, after all."

"Haha! That wasn't intentional. Blame your superiors—they failed to seal me properly. I am a third-grade cursed relic, after all."

"A third-grade relic…" Julius muttered, excitement rising in his chest. This might be risky, but it's a gamble worth taking.

"We have a deal then, old man," he declared.

"Don't call me old man. My name is Samuel Roell."

Suddenly, the dreamlike space around Julius vanished. He stood once more in the silent chamber, the mirror behind him shattered. All that remained was a golden-etched hourglass resting on the cold stone floor.

"Damn… there's no turning back now. All that's left is to convince the Cathedral with this story."

As he bent to retrieve the hourglass, a sharp voice pierced the air:

"Julius Cross! What in the abyss are you doing here?!"

Shit… it's happening already… Julius cursed silently.

As Julius turned swiftly toward the voice behind him, his heart pounded.

Standing at the doorway was Father Moore, his long black coat swaying slightly with his every movement, and his golden eyes locked on Julius like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Julius Cross... what in the name of the Eternal Flame are you doing here? This chamber is sealed for a reason," the priest asked coldly, his voice laced with suspicion.

Julius's mind raced. His pulse quickened, yet he forced himself to appear calm.

"I... I was drawn here," he began, voice steady but cautious. "It was the mirror... it pulled me in. Some kind of illusion. I didn't even realize this room contained sealed cursed relics. The next thing I knew... I was standing here, and the mirror was already shattered."

Father Moore's eyes narrowed, the golden hue within them flaring slightly. He stepped forward, inspecting the room in silence. His gaze eventually landed on the hourglass resting gently on the ground.

Without a word, he knelt and picked it up.

Julius felt his breath catch. No... please don't take it. Don't recognize what it is...

He didn't dare speak. Denial might raise further suspicion, and claiming it could condemn him.

The priest studied the hourglass for a long, tense moment. Then, almost casually, he turned to Julius.

"Is this yours?"

Julius's thoughts spun. He wouldn't ask unless he believes it's harmless. If he thought it a cursed relic, he'd have sealed it by now...

"Yes," he replied, his voice low but firm. "It's mine."

Father Moore handed it to him without hesitation.

"Very well. You are to report to the cathedral tomorrow. There will be an internal investigation. For now, return home and rest."

Julius nodded respectfully. "Understood, Father."

As he stepped out of the relic chamber, he found himself once again lost in the twisting corridors of the cathedral. Suppressing a groan, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"...Father Moore," he called out, feigning a sheepish smile, "could you... remind me of the way back?"

With a faint sigh of annoyance, Father Moore gestured down the hall. "Three doors to the left. Then straight. Don't stray again."

"Of course. Thank you."

Julius followed the directions carefully, mentally mapping each turn. Eventually, the cold stone corridor gave way to the familiar gates of the cathedral. He slipped through them into the streets, the weight of the hourglass heavy in his coat.

The moment he stepped beyond the sacred threshold, a whisper coiled in his ear like a breeze brushing his thoughts.

"We did it. Don't worry... he has no idea I'm a cursed relic."

Julius's eyes widened slightly. The voice was clear—refined, yet laced with playful amusement.

"You can... speak?"

"I can do much more than that, dear Julius," the voice replied. "Your shadow... it's not ordinary. Its nature weakens the chains that bind me, allowing fragments of my power to awaken. You're more useful than I expected."

Julius narrowed his eyes as he walked. "But what about the investigation? If they dig deeper—"

"They won't," Samuel interrupted, calm and assured. "They've already filed it in their minds as a minor anomaly. If they had suspected anything more, they would never have let you leave with me. Your lie was weak, but plausible enough, especially in a place as saturated with illusions as the Mirror Room."

Still uneasy, Julius crossed the street and turned the corner.

"Now," Samuel added with a chuckle, "I'd appreciate it if you stopped talking to me out loud. If someone sees you whispering to a damned hourglass, they'll think you've lost your mind."

A dry smirk tugged at Julius's lips. "Right... wouldn't want to end up in the sanatorium."

He slipped the hourglass deeper into his coat and let the city night embrace him. After a long, chaotic day, all he craved now was the silence of his rented room... and a few precious hours of rest before the storm ahead.