Man’s reflection of a demon

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$A lone figure stands in a dimly lit alley, shrouded in mist, staring into a cracked mirror propped against a graffiti-stained wall. The reflection is distorted—glitching, warping, and fading into a deep, endless void that seems to pull reality apart. Neon lights flicker overhead in eerie shades of blue and purple, casting long shadows that ripple like water. The ground is wet, reflecting the fractured image like a portal to something unknown, something inescapable. In the distance, static hums in the air, as if the void itself is whispering back.$

A lone figure stands in a dimly lit alley, shrouded in mist, staring into a cracked mirror propped against a graffiti-stained wall. The reflection is distorted—glitching, warping, and fading into a deep, endless void that seems to pull reality apart. Neon lights flicker overhead in eerie shades of blue and purple, casting long shadows that ripple like water. The ground is wet, reflecting the fractured image like a portal to something unknown, something inescapable. In the distance, static hums in the air, as if the void itself is whispering back.