Warlock Apprentice Chapter 1708: Section 1709: Magic Mirror

Chapter 1708: Section 1709: Magic Mirror

“A supernatural disaster caused by Extraordinary Power?” Falga’s face bore confusion. “Perhaps it’s nothing more than a story’s backdrop.”

Loki shook his head. “Not just a backdrop. You’ve also entered the Illusionary Realm, haven’t you? You should know that the scenes inside the Illusionary Realm—besides the story’s characters—can actually be seen and even touched. Within those traces, there seems to be so genuine information embedded.”

Loki’s words left Falga montarily stunned, for he was reminded of the strange signs he’d glimpsed during a thunderstorm the last ti he entered the Illusionary Realm—enigmatic traces seemingly worth pondering.

The dialogue between Loki and Falga caused Europa, standing nearby, to raise an inquisitive brow.

From their implications, could this theatrical Shadow Box not only present art through Illusionary Realms but also harbor deeper anings?

Europa narrowed her eyes and glanced at the box in her hand.

…

So ti later, inside the resting room.

From the perspective of an observer, Europa appeared to be enveloped in a faint Red glow. Yet, from Europa’s own point of view, she was now floating above an eerily sinister castle.

She surveyed her surroundings: the sky was overcast, seemingly night, but the moon was nowhere to be seen. The castle sat atop a deathly still ridge, surrounded by pitch-black forests.

The castle emitted a faint light, but instead of dispelling the darkness, it conjured the illusion of infernal ghost fires glowing in the abyss.

Europa had yet to finish surveying her environnt when she was abruptly plunged into a free fall, as though she had slipped into the Abyss.

Europa instinctively tried to summon her Magic Power, but before she could sense her Magical Core, the scene shifted abruptly.

She found herself within a dim, cramped room.

The room’s sole light source was the candelabra atop a worn table in the center of the room.

The candelabra’s wan light managed only to illuminate its imdiate vicinity, leaving the rest of the space steeped in darkness.

“What scene from which play is this?” Europa murmured, unable to link her current surroundings to any theatrical narratives she was familiar with. Yet the atmosphere was palpably sinister.

This thick, oppressive darkness weighed on Europa’s emotions, gnawing at her psyche.

“What a masterful Illusionary Realm, capable of such an emotional grip… Not many can do this,” Europa thought. Shadows of Angel and Sanders flickered through her mind. Though Sanders’ Illusion Techniques were formidable, their emotional depth lacked the potency of the realm she stood in. Thus, the answer seed increasingly clear.

Europa walked cautiously forward, her eyes locking onto the table. She appeared to have spotted books on its surface and hoped to glean so information from them.

However, just as she approached, a figure materialized in the corner of her vision.

Europa hadn’t sensed anyone’s presence, and the sudden sight of a figure made her pupils contract slightly. Then, upon closer inspection, she realized that the “figure” was not a person but a mirror. The shadow the mirror reflected—naturally—was her own.

Believing as much, Europa reassured herself, only for the reflection in the mirror to move suddenly. What was jarring was that Europa herself had not moved at all.

A sinister laugh echoed from behind her, breaking the oppressive silence. Europa whirled around to look.

A girl clad in a white gown slowly pushed open the Door and stepped inside. Her movents were languid, the sound of her footsteps dragging against the floor unnervingly loud. When Europa focused her gaze, she saw that the girl was dragging the blood-soaked corpse of a woman. The girl’s gown was likewise flecked with crimson stains.

The girl approached the table, depositing the corpse upon its surface. Then, with a disturbed expression, she moved before the mirror. “Mirror, oh mirror, tell , am I the most beautiful woman in the world?”

The mirror’s surface rippled, and from within erged a stern masculine voice: “No.”

The girl’s once cheerful expression twisted instantly, her eyes narrowing sharply. “You said before that the most beautiful woman was my brother’s beloved, Shalina. Look—her corpse lies on this table. She’s already dead! So why am I still not the most beautiful woman in the world?”

The mirror’s voice replied, “Though Shalina is dead, the most beautiful woman is still not you. Your stepmother surpasses you in beauty.”

The girl’s expression, already fierce, grew even darker, her gaze now vicious. In a rage, she hissed, “Her face is marred by hideous black spots! How could she possibly be more beautiful than ?”

“Your stepmother only painted her face that way to appease you. Naturally, she is far more beautiful than you.”

“Appease ?!” The girl’s voice rose, dripping venom. “That vile woman took my father from , and you call that appeasent?!” Her face twisted in fury. “I’ll kill her. I will kill her!”

The girl grasped a knife from the table and, in a frenzied state, began to hack at the corpse, splattering the room with crimson gore. Only after the body was reduced to mangled flesh did she exhale deeply.

“You’re next!”

The girl, her expression twisted with sinister intent, clutched the blade and stalked out through the Door.

Having borne witness to the scene, Europa’s eyes glead with intrigue. “Fascinating,” she mused.

This girl was fascinating. But even more fascinating… was the mirror itself.

Europa stood before the mirror, drawn to its dual nature: outwardly authoritative, yet with a subtle aura of unease lurking beneath.

The longer Europa examined the mirror, the more her eyes lit up. “Malevolence? Infinite malevolence? And this malevolence has been distilled into a physical form? How is this even possible? What kind of rule governs this?”

Europa’s passion for experintation ignited anew. She could sense that the rules underpinning the mirror’s existence were not re Illusions but sothing far deeper.

Finally, she began to understand why Loki had been so captivated by the “Extraordinary traces” hidden within the Illusionary Realms.

These traces carried a profound sense of rules, an undeniable frawork from which an astute observer might even glean enlightennt.

“Has Angel’s mastery over Illusion Techniques reached such a level?” Europa marveled inwardly. “To leave such peculiar traces of Extraordinary Power within an Illusionary Realm… incredible.”

The very existence of the mirror suggested benefits unfathomable to Europa in the past, should she unravel its mysteries through study.

As Europa prepared to delve deeper into the mirror’s secrets, the scene morphed once more. She watched the girl’s attempt to assassinate her stepmother, the ensuing failure as the girl was cast out in a dreary drizzle, her pitiful, frail form falling prey to seven lecherous dwarves… and the eventual sches the girl employed to deceive them.

Throughout it all, Europa found herself not only engrossed by the unfolding narrative but also increasingly attuned to the intricate details akin to the magic of the mirror.

Initially, Europa had assud these elents were rely clever “easter eggs” left behind by Angel during the artifact’s refinent.

But as the story deepened and the Illusionary Realm expanded, Europa gradually realized that Angel might not have deliberately planted these “easter eggs.” Rather, his insights into Illusion Techniques might have reached the point of “defining the rules of the Illusionary Realm” itself. What seed like scattered surprises were likely the casual imprints of his craft.

Intentional efforts might serve as entertaining gimmicks, but unintentional intricacies—erging wherever one cast their gaze—were sothing far more terrifying.

This suggested that Angel’s vision and mastery had likely ascended into an entirely new Domain.