Chapter 14: The Heart of the Forgotten City
The ruined streets blurred around him as Asher ran, the nightmarish golden glow above pulsing in time with his accelerating heartbeat. The whispers grew louder, thickening the air with unseen pressure. He could feel the Masked Entity behind him, gliding effortlessly, never rushing, never slowing. It did not need to chase him.
It knew where he was going.
His instincts screamed at him to stop, to turn, to fight. But something deeper—something more primal—told him the truth. You cannot kill this. Not yet.
He forced himself to move faster. The ancient tower at the city's center loomed ahead, rising from the ruins like the last decayed tooth in the skull of a forgotten god. Cracks ran deep along its surface, golden symbols flickering weakly in the stone. This was no simple structure.
This was a monument to something that should have been erased.
The whispers in the air suddenly ceased.
The city fell into absolute silence.
Asher slowed, stopping just outside the massive entrance of the tower. The walls pulsed faintly, humming beneath his fingertips as he placed a hand against the stone. There was something alive in this place.
A voice brushed against his mind. Not like the gods. Not like the creatures.
This voice was weaker.
"He took everything from us."
Asher stiffened. His breath slowed. He was not alone.
He turned.
The Masked Entity stood at the base of the stairs.
Its golden eye locked onto him, but it did not move forward. It remained perfectly still, as if waiting, as if testing something.
It did not need to speak. He understood.
If he crossed this threshold, if he stepped inside the heart of this city—there would be no turning back.
His fingers curled.
Then he walked inside.
The first thing he noticed was the light.
Unlike the ruins outside, this place was untouched by decay. The walls were smooth, unbroken. The air was thick with an energy that pressed against his skin like invisible hands, watching, feeling, waiting.
At the center of the vast hall stood a single stone throne.
Empty.
But not forgotten.
Asher stepped closer. The moment his foot touched the ancient floor, a shockwave rippled through the room.
The walls shook.
A piercing chime rang in his skull, not from the tower's system, but from somewhere deeper.
A notification flared into his vision.
[You have entered the Throne of the Nameless One.]
The Nameless One.
Not a king. Not a ruler. Not a god.
Something else.
Something that had been erased.
The whispers returned, but this time, they were different. Clearer. Sharper.
"He betrayed us."
"He stole our names, our souls, our world."
"And now he watches."
Asher's breathing slowed. His eyes scanned the room, his muscles tensed for an attack, but nothing came.
Then, at the edge of his vision, the walls changed.
He had thought they were smooth, but now he saw it—countless figures carved into the stone.
Not statues.
People.
Frozen mid-motion, mouths open in silent screams, their faces twisted in expressions of horror and rage. Some reached out, their fingers barely touching the throne's base. Others stood back, as if cursing the seat of power.
This was not a simple city.
This was a graveyard of stolen existences.
The truth struck him like a blade.
The people of this kingdom had not died.
They had been turned into this.
Into forgotten echoes, erased from memory itself.
And the one who had done this—the one who had stolen their names, their history, their very existence—was still watching.
A chime rang across the Tower.
A notification blazed across his vision.
[The Gods have seen what you have uncovered.]
[The Tower trembles.]
The air cracked.
The throne shifted.
And Asher knew, with cold certainty, that he had broken something.
A presence descended.
It was not like the gods he had felt before, watching from their distant thrones beyond the Tower. This was different.
It was immediate. Close. Angry.
A cold wind surged through the chamber, the walls vibrating as a deep voice rumbled through the stone.
"You should not have come here."
Asher turned sharply, his sword flashing into his grip.
The Masked Entity stood in the doorway, but it was no longer alone.
More had come.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Each one identical, each one wrapped in shifting robes, each one bearing the same smooth white mask with the golden eye.
They filled the hall, lining the walls, standing in absolute stillness.
The throne pulsed again.
A new notification appeared.
[The Forgotten Ones have awakened.]
The golden eye on the lead figure's mask twisted.
"You are an anomaly."
Asher's pulse slowed. His fingers did not tremble.
He had been called that before.
The air grew heavy. The golden runes along the throne's base began to shatter, flickering and breaking apart.
Whatever had been sealed here—it was trying to wake up.
And the Forgotten Ones were not going to allow that.
The lead entity raised a hand.
The room collapsed into darkness.
Shadows surged toward him, tendrils of liquid void twisting through the air, reaching for his body.
Asher's instincts reacted first.
His own shadow rose.
A clash of forces.
The Faceless Ones' darkness surged forward, an abyss meant to consume.
But Asher's darkness—it devoured.
The moment their shadows touched his, the Faceless Ones recoiled.
The golden eye on the lead entity's mask split open.
A sound, something between a scream and a whisper, rippled through the air.
They had felt it.
Felt what he had become.
For the first time, Asher saw hesitation.
And he smiled.
"You're afraid."
The lead entity moved.
The hall exploded into war.