The Author Reincarnated As An Extra

It was the first time Deremiah had experienced that kind of instant fear, gripping his chest as he forced himself to take a deep breath.

Fingers slightly trembling on his sword's hilt, he adjusted his stance and stepped closer to the mirror.

The reflection — his true reflection, Jarren Fletcher — stared back at him. It was quiet and still, and Deremiah who had come inside the Trial with confidence was now very unsettled.

It had only been a little more than a day since he'd died and woken in this new form, yet the man in the glass already seemed like a stranger.

That shirt and those jeans. He remembered purchasing them, wearing them that day after his bath.

The rush of memories made everything feel even more foreign now, as though he was losing that part of himself, like he was someone else entirely.

Wanting to take a closer look, Deremiah leaned forward, studying the reflection, trying to reconcile the figure in the mirror with the memories still fresh in his mind.

But something terrifying happened. As he peered into the face in the glass, it suddenly started to feel like it was peering back at him.

Deremiah couldn't explain the sensation, but he felt it in his skin, like that face was looking at him, like there was life behind its empty eyes.

Then, confirming Deremiah's fear, the reflection smiled.

"Hgh!" He let out a choked gasp, his eyes wide and body tensed. "Shit!"

Instinctively, he began to step back while the reflection remained in that ominous grin.

"Hello, Jarren," it said with a chilling voice, tilting its head slightly. "Or should I say… Deremiah!"

With an outward explosion of glass, the reflection outstretched its hand and surged out of the mirror.

Deremiah moved backwards as fast as he could, but the reflection's hands had already caught him. The fingers curled tightly around his neck, pushing him backwards, his feet scraping against the mirrored floor as he fell.

As the reflection's grip tightened around his neck, Deremiah's lungs burned, his head started to feel light and his eyes began to redden.

It squeezed harder and harder, and Deremiah held on to its wrist with one hand, trying to free himself. But the reflection's eyes gleamed with malice, and on its face was the same smile, even more sadistic than before.

Legs shaking as he tried to find his breath, Deremiah tightened his palm around the hilt of his sword.

Through grit, he managed to gather enough strength to lift it up, and with one final gasp, thrust the sword forward.

However the blade caught nothing.

The reflection shattered into silver smoke the moment he attacked, dissipating into the air as if it had never existed.

Deremiah pulled himself to a sitting position on the ground, coughing and gasping for breath.

'That was... that was terrifying!'

He darted his eyes to his left and right, feeling the reflection's movement all around him, but not seeing it. Deremiah pressed a hand to his throat, his pulse hammering beneath his skin.

"Damn it," he muttered hoarsely, slowly finding his feet. 'They played the overwhelming tactic! I was ready. Prepared to face this Trial. My plan was to remain stoic and unaffected.'

He turned to his back, eyes wide. 'But I had almost forgotten how clever I made these mirrors. And I couldn't anticipate perfectly! Using my old form as a reflection, that was a masterstroke, calculated to catch me off guard. And — damn it — it worked.'

"Do you know which one I am?"

Deremiah quickly turned again. But the voice was not coming from one place, it echoed around him, bouncing off the mirrors in a hollow, mocking tone.

His head snapped in multiple directions, scanning each of the mirrors carefully with his eyes.

And then, he felt a movement. The reflection reappeared to his left, but before Deremiah could react, it struck him across the face.

He stumbled, barely catching himself before it appeared at his right and struck him with another blow.

"I am your Secrets!" the reflection declared mockingly. It appeared behind him, sending a fist to his lower back and then reappearing in front of him, and delivering the same blow to his abdomen.

Falling backwards, Deremiah hit the ground hard. His sword clattered away from his grasp as his elbow slipped against the mirrored surface.

*Cough* Cough*

Clutching his stomach in pain, Deremiah coughed violently while picking himself up. He had managed to get on his fours, trying to recuperate before coming up with some form of offense or defense against the doppelganger.

But before he could even do that, he saw his reflection on the ground break into a haunting smile.

Deremiah wanted to jump to his feet, but either the fear or the punches had left him completely paralyzed.

The reflection opened its mouth and said; "And I am your Guilt."

Glass shattered again as the figure's hands burst through the mirror, grabbing Deremiah by the head.

"Arghh!" he yelled, trying to break free. But its grip was iron, and it began to pull him downward like it was forcing him inside the mirror.

At this point, Deremiah had no choice but to fight back as shaggily as he could. His hands clawed at the doppelganger's wrists, digging his nails inside its skin and pulling.

Finding a bit more strength, he braced his feet against the floor, arched his back as he rivaled the doppelganger's pull with his.

"Argggh!" Deremiah yelled out with a surge of strength, and he wrenched the figure upward, pulling it free out of the mirror as more shards of glass shattered into the air.

"Urrkkk!"

The reflection did not hesitate to jump into action as it drove its fist into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. Deremiah doubled over, clutching his midsection as pain rippled through him.

Then from above, another reflection jumped through the glass. This one was Doubt. It elbowed Deremiah's back as it fell on top of him, shards of more mirrors falling and then dissipating into silver.

Together, the doppelgangers attacked in unison.

They were like a group of bullies, attacking him like a pack, with blows swift and relentless. Deremiah fought back, and although he managed to land a few hits, he was clearly outmatched by their numbers and coordination.

"Where is your shame?" Guilt hissed as it kicked Deremiah over and over on his stomach. "You can't hide me forever, Deremiah! You know what you did! You led Mist, Faya, and Dane to their deaths. You made them to die, you led them to die. Where is your shame, Deremiah!"

Another heavy kick! "Urrkkkk!" Deremiah fell forward, hand pressed to his abdomen and spit leaked from his mouth.

Secrets laughed, the only one amongst them in the form of Jarren Fletcher. It squatted before Deremiah, while he crawled on all fours.

"Are you ashamed of me, Deremiah? Are you ashamed of what you used to look like?" It grinned at him, peering at the pain in his amethyst eyes.

"Oh, I see. You prefer this new pretty face you have now. This pristine, perfect body? But how long until someone discovers the truth about you, Deremiah? You can't hold the secret for long. You will tell someone. And your punishment will please me greatly!"

"Ngh!" He pulled his clenched hand back and punched Deremiah square on the face. "Oh, I can't wait to be exposed! I will gnaw at you until you can't bear it anymore. Until you tell someone about me!"

Aeric tumbled over and fell flat on his back on the ground, blood spilling out of his mouth. His head ached and a ping sound echoed in his temple, causing his vision to fog.

He could barely see the three figures standing above him, but in the haze, he saw two more join them. Fear and Weakness.

Fear gripped him by the collar and pulled him up, glaring into the eyes they both shared. "You've died twice already, haven't you? Dying so many times have left you dreading the pain, the loneliness of it. You don't want to die again, but you will. In fact, you will die inside this very Trial."

He hit him on the left cheek and consecutively on the right, drawing blood from nose and mouth at both instances.

Deremiah slowly began to lose consciousness. His heart was pounding uncontrollably, and this was because he had been listening to all they were saying. His own insecurities had led him to believe them.

Doubt grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him through the mirrored floor. "You know you can not survive," it sneered. "So just give up now, Deremiah. This world is too savage for you. No matter how much you know of it, no matter how much power you get. It will not save you. You're doomed. And you know it."

It flung Deremiah, and he crashed right through a mirror and fell harshly on the ground.

"Arkkkgh! Ngh!" Deremiah groaned in pain, dragging himself with his shoulder.

But the taunts had burrowed into his mind now. His entire plan was in complete crumbles and he felt his resolve begin to fall.

Deremiah's movements grew sluggish, he tried to rise to his knees, but his legs were too weak. His gut burned and the bones of his legs drummed inside his flesh.

Finally giving up on his attempts to stand up, Deremiah fell one last time and laid sprawled on the glass floor. Body trembling. Breath shallow.

There's no way this was happening. There was no way he was going to die again.

One by one, the reflections surrounded him.

"We told you you would die here," Secrets said, kneeling beside him. Its grin was cruel and triumphant. "Your emotions feed us, make us stronger."

Deremiah struggled for breath, trying to drag himself away from them, reaching for his corrupted sword as he realized that he couldn't summon any of his Void energy.

"You don't belong in this world, Jarren." Secrets whispered. "You might have created it, but it was never meant for you."

It pulled a knife from its pocket, and with a wicked grin on its face, it lifted the blade to strike the killing blow.