Chapter 140 – The Oblivion Spire

The landscape twisted as Chen and his companions crossed the final threshold of the Vault's hidden exit. Sky bled into stone, and gravity thinned to whispers. Before them rose the impossible silhouette of the Oblivion Spire — a tower that defied form and direction, built not of brick or divine crystal, but of fractured time and cosmic silence. It scraped the heavens in reverse, its foundations stretching both into the clouds and beneath the world.

Lanmei stepped forward first, blades drawn despite the eerie stillness. "This place… it's older than the divine courts."

Ye Yue nodded. "I feel echoes. Not just of gods, but of law itself. The First Decree was forged here… before even the Flame Court was born."

Auraleth floated beside Chen, silver eyes wary. "This is where Judgment began. And where it fractured."

The air pulsed as they approached, the atmosphere dense with meaning — a pressure not of power, but of consequence. With each step, Chen felt the Judgment Brand on his chest react, glowing hotter, syncing with some invisible current that wove through the Spire's bones.

They passed through the first gate — a ring of broken commandments etched in celestial runes. Their words twisted and shifted: Obedience without understanding. Punishment without mercy. Dominion without truth.

Chen's hand brushed one, and the rune cracked. Silver light bled through. "These are lies that were once law," Auraleth whispered. "We must unmake them."

They descended deeper, and reality itself bent to the Spire's design. Memories flickered along the walls — scenes of gods casting judgments, mortals screaming in silence, courts rising and falling like waves in a storm. It wasn't a place of worship. It was a place of reckoning.

And at its heart — a sealed chamber of obsidian glass, pulsing with dormant flame. An altar.

Ye Yue stepped forward. "That symbol… it's the first Flame. The one stolen and used to forge the divine hierarchy."

Lanmei looked at Chen. "You were always meant to stand here."

Chen didn't speak. He placed his hand on the altar.

A wave of gold and silver flame erupted outward — not burning, but cleansing. The obsidian glass cracked. Runes reformed into a new script. The Spire began to sing.

From deep below, ancient machinery stirred. And far above, the heavens listened.

What Sleeps in Silence

The moment Chen and his companions crossed the jagged threshold into the heart of the Oblivion Spire, the world changed.

The oppressive silence inside was not just the absence of sound—it was the suppression of existence itself. Even their footsteps made no echo. Light flickered strangely along the black stone, bent and refracted by arcane runes pulsing beneath the surface. The deeper they moved, the heavier the air became, as if some ancient will pressed down upon them.

Ye Yue's fingers laced with Chen's, her divine senses coiled tightly around him. "This place… it's not just sealed. It's forgotten by the world."

Lanmei moved ahead, her spear drawn and glowing faintly with Soulflame. "Something watches us. Something old."

At the heart of the Spire, they found a colossal chamber—round, domed, carved with impossible geometries that seemed to shift when looked at too long. In the center, resting in a sunken cradle of obsidian and starlight, was a sarcophagus sealed with eleven divine sigils—each from a different age.

But ten of them were cracked.

As Chen stepped forward, the last unbroken sigil—one he now recognized as belonging to Lysaria—began to flicker.

A pulse of power shook the Spire, and the sarcophagus shuddered.

Then—slowly, like a breath inhaled after an eternity—a shadow rose. Tall. Humanoid. And wrong. Its form shifted like melted glass. It had no face, only a smooth void where one should be. Yet it turned to Chen with unmistakable recognition.

"Yangborn," the voice echoed without sound. "You bear the mark of the Eternal Thread. I dreamed of you, long ago."

Chen clenched his fists, Soulflame rising, flickering uncertainly. "Who… or what are you?"

The being stepped from the cradle of starlit stone. With each motion, the chamber trembled. Runes dimmed. Reality twisted. And behind it, within the sarcophagus, a second presence stirred—but it remained dormant, bound still by Lysaria's fading seal.

"I am Nullarch. First Lawbreaker. The concept that should not be." It raised one long arm. "And you… are my key."

Lanmei leapt forward, but before she could strike, a wall of distortion threw her back. Chen caught her, heart racing.

Ye Yue stepped forward instead, divine light blooming around her. "If you're a threat to him—"

"I am older than threats. I was cast into Oblivion for breaking what the Courts once called absolute. Now, the laws fracture… and the Spiral calls."

The chamber began to collapse around them—walls melting into mist, space curving in on itself.

Chen summoned everything: Soulflame, Divine Spark, and the faint pulse of Lysaria's lingering blessing. He forced the essence to form a protective barrier as Nullarch watched with silent amusement.

"Survive, Yangborn. Your war wakes more than gods."

And with that, the being vanished—folding into unreality, leaving the Spire cracking apart behind them.

As they barely escaped through a collapsing corridor, dragging themselves into a lesser corridor of the Spiral, the others gasped for breath.

"What was that?" Mei asked, clutching a glowing fragment ripped from the chamber.

Chen didn't answer right away. He looked at the Soulflame around his hand—it flickered with a shade of darkness now, a shadow of what he'd touched.

"He was sealed here for a reason," Chen said finally. "And I think… we just set the end in motion."