The boy's twisted smile lingered as he watched the confusion ripple across the faces of the Dark Reflecters. He stepped forward, his voice calm yet dripping with condescension.
"Do you know why the Light Reflecters felt uneasy when I was born, while you—" he gestured to them with a sweeping hand, "—felt nothing at all?"
The Dark Reflecters glanced at one another, unsure. One of them shook his head and muttered, "No."
"Good," the boy said, his smirk widening. "Then let me explain everything to you."
"Fine," one of the Reflecters huffed, crossing his arms. "Go ahead."
The boy raised his chin slightly, his tone turning colder. "I was the only Dark Reflecter born with Eternal Knowledge. When I opened my eyes to this world, I saw it—the tremor of fear in the Light Reflecters. A few of them realized it immediately. If someone like me—a Dark Reflecter with Eternal Knowledge—existed, it would shatter the balance they created, their illusion of peace."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over his audience. "Because you see, we were never meant to coexist. The Light Reflecters and the Dark Reflecters were designed to be enemies."
"ENOUGH!" a voice boomed, breaking the stillness. One of the Dark Reflecters stepped forward, his rage bubbling to the surface. "If that's true—if we were supposed to be enemies—then why didn't they kill us the moment we were born?"
The boy arched an eyebrow, his expression tinged with mock surprise. "Kill you?" He chuckled softly, his voice sinister. "No. That would have been their biggest mistake."
A collective gasp rippled through the group. The Dark Reflecters exchanged uneasy glances, their disbelief palpable.
"What do you mean by that?" one of them demanded.
The boy's eyes gleamed as he took another step forward, the weight of his words pressing down on the gathering. "Do you even understand why we are divided into three parts—Citizens, Light Reflecters, and Dark Reflecters?"
They stared at him, silent and unsure. Finally, one of them muttered, "No."
The boy spread his arms, as if revealing a great truth. "Because this world belongs to Eternity." His voice dropped, almost reverent, yet sharp enough to cut through the air. "There are countless dimensions. Each with its own balance, its own rules. And this—" he gestured to the ground beneath their feet, "—this is the Mirror Dimension. A reflection of realities far beyond your understanding."
Silence swallowed the group, the weight of his revelation settling like an immovable stone. For the first time, the Dark Reflecters began to feel it—a crack in their certainty, a glimpse of something far greater lurking beneath the surface of their world.
"This dimension," the boy began, his voice steady and unnervingly calm, "is divided into three parts. The first, those who cannot wield powers or abilities, are known as normal citizens. Then there is the part defined by purity—the Light Reflecters. And finally, the part defined by evilness—the Dark Reflecters."
He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips, as if savoring the weight of his words.
"Then why are we not evil?" one of the Dark Reflecters demanded, his voice laced with anger and confusion.
A murmur of agreement erupted from the group. "Yes! We want answers!" others shouted, their voices growing louder, more accusatory.
The boy let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "You truly are pathetic," he said, his gaze cutting through them like a blade. "I pity you all."
A ripple of shock passed through the crowd, followed quickly by murmurs of disbelief.
"Huh! So you're bluffing now?" one of them scoffed, his voice brimming with skepticism.
The boy raised his hand, silencing them with a simple gesture. "If you're done," he said coldly, "then allow me to explain."
Without warning, he cast a heavy spell, his aura dark and overwhelming as ancient symbols flickered in the air. A shiver ran through the crowd as a fragment of his knowledge washed over them—a glimpse into truths they had long been blind to.
"The definitions of purity and evilness are nothing but labels," the boy explained, his voice echoing as if carried by the very magic he wielded. "We were born under the title of evil, but that doesn't define what we truly are."
The Dark Reflecters stared at him, their anger faltering as doubt began to seep in.
"The truth," the boy continued, "is that we are choices personified. We are not creatures of inherent evil or sin. Like all beings, we make mistakes. We cause harm. But we also do good, whether by accident or by intention. Purity and evil are nothing but shadows of perspective—concepts shaped by choice and affection."
The crowd grew still, their anger subdued by the weight of the boy's words. For the first time, they began to see a crack in the certainty that had been forced upon them, as if a veil had been lifted.
"So," the boy finished, his voice soft but sharp as a blade, "the real question isn't whether we are evil or pure. It's whether you will continue to let others decide that for you."
The Dark Reflecters froze in stunned silence, the weight of the boy's words crashing down upon them like a tidal wave. Slowly, realization crept across their faces—an understanding that ignited a deep, simmering rage.
"So," the boy continued, his voice dripping with scorn, "you see now. You were nothing but puppets—strings pulled and twisted by the Light Reflecters to fulfill their illusion of purity and dominance."
The words struck like lightning, shattering the last of their doubts. A low growl of fury echoed through the crowd, quickly growing into a roar.
"They betrayed us!" someone shouted, their voice shaking with rage.
"Traitors!" another screamed.
Chaos erupted among the Dark Reflecters. Their anger, once repressed and manipulated, now boiled over. Fueled by vengeance, they surged forward as one, setting their sights on the kingdom of the Light Reflecters.
The sky darkened as their power swirled like an unrelenting storm. The flying islands of the Light Reflecters trembled as the enraged Dark Reflecters launched a devastating assault. Spells and shadows collided, tearing through the air like wildfire.
Amid the onslaught, the leader of the Light Reflecters stood tall—his face etched with both resolve and sorrow. Realizing the inevitable destruction of his people, he made a desperate choice.
Raising his hands to the sky, he began to chant in a language lost to time. Symbols of light burst to life around him, intertwining with his form as his energy drained into the magic. The air trembled with the weight of his sacrifice.
"No!" a Dark Reflecter shouted, realizing what was happening.
But it was too late.
The leader's body dissolved into radiant light as the final words of his spell echoed across the battlefield. In an instant, colossal barriers of shimmering energy erupted around the flying islands—sealing the Light Reflecters within their isolated sanctuaries.
The Dark Reflecters screamed in frustration as their attacks crashed uselessly against the barriers, unable to penetrate the impenetrable magic. The islands, now sealed, floated untouched above the chaos below, their gleaming walls a symbol of the leader's final act.
The battlefield grew still, the fury of the Dark Reflecters tempered by the reality of what had been done. They were victorious in rage, but denied their vengeance.
The boy stood at the edge of the broken ground, watching the sealed islands above. A sly, knowing smile crept across his face.
"So," he whispered to himself, his voice soft yet chilling, "it begins."