Evelyn's POV
When Mother first taught me the Mirror Image spell, I assumed it would split my strength evenly with the copy. But when I tried it for the first time, I realized something surprising—it only required half of my mana reserves to create, and once summoned, I didn't need to maintain it at all.
Mother studied the figure closely, circling it with keen eyes. "This isn't normal," she murmured, brushing her hand against its shimmering form. "An illusion should unravel without a steady flow of mana. But yours… it's holding together as if it were real."
I tilted my head. "It's not alive, though. It doesn't think. It just waits for me to command it. Like a puppet."
Her expression tightened, a mix of concern and pride. "Even so, Evelyn, remember this: strength always comes with a price. Even if the spell doesn't drain your mana, it may weigh on your mind in ways you don't yet understand."
I smiled faintly, unwilling to let her worry slow me down. "Then I'll train until the weight feels natural. You know me, Mother—I never give up."
She sighed, but her lips curved into a small smile. "That much, I do know. Just… promise me you'll be careful. Power can serve others, or it can consume you."
I nodded, though inside, I was more excited than cautious.
Through testing, I discovered the Mirror Image carried its own mana reserves. Back in Stage Two, when I had ten times the mana of a normal mage, my copy would have been five times stronger than most at that level. Now, at Stage Three, my physical strength alone was five times that of a Stage One. Which meant the copy's strength—two and a half times Stage One—was more than enough to overwhelm ordinary opponents. With armor and weapons, my double could rival even someone at Stage Four.
That night, I decided to experiment further. I imagined myself as I had been in my first life—the Hero—and cast the spell again.
To my surprise, the figure that appeared was not the small, blonde, eleven-year-old girl I was now. Instead, a tall, muscular man stood before me—six feet of hardened muscle, with shoulder-length black hair and sharp green eyes. My old face. My old self.
It was unsettling and nostalgic all at once.
The image looked semi-sentient, but I quickly confirmed it wasn't. It only moved when I directed it, though I could control it either by giving commands or fully linking my mind with its body. The second option felt strange, as if I were living in two bodies at once, but it offered more precision.
I gave the double armor—black, bear-themed, in contrast to my own golden, lion-like armor. For its weapon, I forged a greatsword. I found myself smiling as I looked at it. "I'll call you… Arthur."
Once I was satisfied, I sent Arthur north. Something in my gut whispered that trouble was brewing in that direction. Instead of going straight, I ordered him to make camp halfway. I spent the night testing my limits, practicing how to act independently in my real body while Arthur trained at the same time. The strain on my mind was intense, but by dawn, I was managing it. I even slept while Arthur remained standing guard.
That decision proved wise.
In the middle of the night, Arthur heard a commotion. Through him, I went to investigate. A group of merchants had been ambushed by goblins—archers lurking in the trees, and raiders swarming their wagons.
My heart pounded. I had never seen goblins before. Not even in my past life as a Hero.
But the merchants were in danger. There was no time to hesitate.
I directed Adam to charge the line of archers first, cutting them down with brutal efficiency. Then he turned to the melee, carving through the goblins that surrounded the terrified merchants. Once the fighting ended, I healed the injured using Arthur mana.
The merchants tried to thank me, but I didn't let Arthur speak. He simply turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.
When I returned to my own body, safe in my bed in the village, I lay there wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
I had just saved lives without ever leaving home.
And yet… a hollow ache stirred in my chest.
If I had mastered this spell back then… if I had learned to create Arthur during my time as the Hero… how many more lives could I have saved? How many battles could I have fought without collapsing from exhaustion? How many comrades might still be alive?
The thought weighed on me, heavier than any mental strain the spell could cause.
I closed my eyes and whispered into the dark, more to myself than anyone else.
"I won't waste this chance. Not this time."