Chapter 1 Inception

In Duncan's perception, two abnormally behaving marks had drawn his attention.

One of the marks, of course, came from the White Oak.

The ship he had once completely incinerated with flames was still radiating a strong "presence," wandering in his perception like a blazing fire, but he was still unable to determine the ship's true location. Whenever he tried to pinpoint the White Oak's position, he only received a strange and vague result, indicating that the White Oak was somewhere near Frostsea, an area already jointly blockaded by the Sea Fog Fleet and the Frostsea Navy.

The other "problematic" mark was on Agatha, the Gatekeeper.

Over the past period, Duncan had suddenly discovered that the mark he had left on Agatha was being subjected to some kind of interference. In that interference, Agatha's aura had become several times weaker, and her location had begun to show the same blurry, distorted signs as the White Oak. He tried to remotely confirm Agatha's condition but was surprised to find that her aura would occasionally disappear completely from the city-state.

Two problematic marks, a ship, and a person, different locations, similar states.

This was obviously worth paying attention to.

So he chose to personally investigate this matter after nightfall—there were no clues on the White Oak side for the time being, but Agatha's mark was still occasionally moving within Frostsea, and it should be nearby.

Duncan lowered his head, looking at Shirley, who was peering around beside him.

A'gou's sensory ability as a Deepsea demon might come in handy—and if there were indeed Annihilation cultists active in the vicinity, it could probably sniff out the aura of its "kind."

Night was deepening, and the gas lamps on both sides of the road had all been lit. Occasionally, the whistle of a night watchman or the barking of a dog came from afar, interspersed with the sound of distant waves.

Remember the URL.

The streets during curfew were empty and deserted. Even the few lights that spilled out from the roadside buildings could hardly dispel the chill of this winter night. Duncan led Shirley through another alley, and in his "vision," the cluster of flames representing Agatha was still stopping and going not far away.

"Mr. Duncan, do you think that if the Gatekeeper sees me... will she slash at me with a sword?" Shirley said, trying to find something to talk about, "Just like Vanna seeing a heretic..."

"Gatekeepers don't use swords," Duncan said casually. "I heard Vanna say that they use specially made combat staffs and the divine arts of the Death Domain to deal with heretics."

Shirley immediately shrank her neck and fell silent.

Duncan didn't pay attention to the girl's reaction. After entering an alley, he suddenly stopped.

Shirley also stopped nervously, looking around vigilantly, "Did you find something? Is the Gatekeeper ahead?"

"...She's not ahead. She's right here," Duncan said calmly, his gaze slowly sweeping across the entire alley, "And she's been here for a while."

"She's here?!" Shirley's eyes widened, as if she felt a cold wind blowing across her neck again. She looked forward intently, feeling more and more uneasy, "Where, where... I can't see her. A'gou, can you see her?"

"Can't see her," A'gou's voice came from the nearby shadows, sounding muffled. "Can't see anyone, and can't feel any aura."

"Even A'gou can't see her?" Duncan frowned slightly, and in his eyes, that small cluster of flames representing Agatha was burning quietly a few meters away, appearing weak and illusory.

The Gatekeeper was right here—she was resting here.

Duncan slowly walked toward the place where the flame was, but then stopped again.

"Agatha" seemed to sense something. The cluster of flames suddenly jumped when he was halfway there, and then quickly moved in another direction.

Duncan raised his head, looking at the direction in which the flame was moving in his perception. Suddenly, a fleeting shadow on the glass window of a nearby building caught his eye.

He saw a blurry figure running quickly across the surface of that glass, and he could vaguely make out Agatha's appearance from the outline.

Shirley, who happened to be looking up and around, also noticed the shadow. She almost screamed in fright, but reacted in time to cover her mouth. After the shadow flashed past, she looked at Duncan, and said with lingering fear, "There was a shadow just now!"

"I saw it. It was reflected from the window," Duncan said in a deep voice, his gaze still calmly looking forward. Where Shirley couldn't see, he was still staring at the cluster of flames—the flame had crossed the alley, flashed again at the intersection ahead, and ran back in another direction.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if sketching Agatha's condition in his mind.

She seemed to be breaking out of some kind of predicament. She might be injured, or she might be very tired. She rested here briefly and then headed towards the upper city—at the intersection, something stopped her for a moment, but failed to hold her back.

Duncan opened his eyes, his gaze falling again on the glass window not far away. The smooth window glass no longer reflected Agatha's figure, only quietly reflecting the illusory image of the street lamp not far away.

"Reflection..." Duncan said softly, "Interesting..."

"Ah?" Shirley still looked confused, "What? Have you figured it out?"

"Perhaps," Duncan said noncommittally, then stepped to the glass window and gently snapped his fingers.

A small cluster of flames danced on his fingertips, illuminating his figure.

He looked at the glass window and saw the flame in his hand reflected on the window. The dancing light, as if alive, burned quietly in the mirrored world.

Shirley watched Duncan's movements in confusion, and then saw him wave his hand gently, casually scattering the flame from his fingertips.

But a faint glimmer of green light was still dancing in her vision.

Shirley slowly opened her mouth, staring in astonishment at the scene before her: after Duncan scattered the flame in his hand, the flame reflected in the glass window showed no sign of disappearing—the reflected flame was still burning quietly, as if it had its own independent existence, burning in the mirror!

"This... what's going on?!" Shirley pointed at the flame in the glass window, looking at Duncan stammeringly, "Why is the flame still there..."

"A Frostsea of mirrors," Duncan slowly turned his head, his tone seemingly with a hint of smile, "is gradually merging with the Frostsea in the real world—a great idea, I personally think it's full of creativity."

"Mirror..." Shirley didn't really understand, but still subconsciously repeated the word, "You mean, there's a Frostsea in the mirror too? Did that 'Gatekeeper' run into the world in the mirror?"

"Not accurate, but you can understand it that way," Duncan said calmly, and turned his gaze back to the flame reflection still burning calmly in the mirror, "There's a small crack here, but it's not enough."

"Not enough?" Shirley blinked her eyes.

"I need a more accurate location, a stronger connection," Duncan slowly reached out his hand, his fingertip touching the phantom flame in the mirror, "To ignite the world on the other side of the mirror, this little fire is not enough. But..."

He paused and retracted his finger.

The phantom flame in the mirror suddenly flickered, and then disappeared into the depths of the darkness, leaving only a faint, faint trace of ghostly green that seemed to stretch into the distance.

"It's enough to give Agatha a hand."

...

How many counterfeits formed by "Primal Substance" had she already eliminated? How many "avatars" of that blond young man had she destroyed?

After exceeding four digits, Agatha had become too lazy to count.

She only knew one thing that the heretic hadn't lied about—she was indeed trapped in this bizarre world, and she couldn't see any hope of escaping it in the short term.

The sky was dim, the clouds were chaotic. In this "Frostsea" without the sun, the boundary between day and night had disappeared. One could only judge that night had fallen by the subtle changes in the light between the clouds and the gas lamps lit in the streets.

Agatha walked through a narrow alley, smoothing her breathing and repairing the damage to her body and mind as she hurried on.

Her black coat had been damaged in many places due to the continuous battles. The combat soft armor underneath was also severely damaged, and even the bandages and skin wrapped underneath could be seen in places such as her shoulders and flanks, with traces of blood seeping out from within.

Frankly speaking, the enemies were not strong. Even the "avatars" used by that blond heretic were not that strong in the eyes of Agatha, the Gatekeeper. It would only take two or three minutes to deal with them.

But they were endless.

This entire city-state was their "material" and "reserve force" for regeneration. Ordinary combat methods were meaningless here.

Agatha walked through the alley, quickly calculating in her mind.

At the same time, she also recalled the strange and terrifying feeling from a few minutes ago.

She was resting briefly in a dark alley at the time when that terrifying aura suddenly appeared in her perception. That kind of pressure... even made her feel like her heart had stopped beating for a few seconds.

She didn't have time to think about it at the time and hurriedly left her hiding place. But now, thinking back about it... that terrifying aura didn't seem to be something from this bizarre counterfeit city-state.

Then... what was it?