Faro entered the second room.
Circular, empty. The walls were dark mirrors — but they reflected nothing.
He took a step.
Another set of footsteps echoed.
He looked up —
There he was.
His exact copy.
Same body, same eyes…
But those eyes glinted with mockery.
They faced each other.
The copy spoke, its voice almost like his — just warped:
"Did you come for power?
Or are you running from yourself?"
"You don't want strength. You just don't want to feel weak again."
Faro said nothing.
The reflection stepped closer.
"You think you are the void? No — you're hollow fear.
Afraid of everything: love, loss, pain… truth."
Faro raised his fist to strike.
Light flashed.
He was thrown back to the start.
A soft voice from above:
"To attack… is to deny.
You can't fight what's inside."
The reflection laughed.
"Admit it.
Speak it.
Say the truth you hide."
Silence.
Then Faro whispered:
"I… don't know who I am.
And I'm afraid I'm nothing."
The copy vanished.
So did the light.
A small door appeared behind him.
It wasn't a victory —
It was an admission.