Chapter 15: The Devouring Shadow
The throne room erupted into war.
Darkness surged from every corner of the chamber, the air thick with an unnatural hum as the Faceless Ones descended upon him. Their golden eyes glowed, their movements swift, their long, taloned hands outstretched to consume him.
Asher did not hesitate.
His shadow exploded outward.
Tendrils of darkness lashed forward, colliding with the approaching Faceless Ones. The impact sent a ripple through the chamber, their own shadows twisting unnaturally as they met his.
For the first time, they faltered.
The lead entity, the one that had spoken to him, hesitated.
It had felt it.
What Asher was.
What he was becoming.
The Faceless Ones had expected resistance. They had not expected something that could fight them on their own terms.
Asher's body moved instinctively, his blade flashing as he twisted through the first wave of attackers. The nearest one lunged, its clawed fingers slicing toward his chest.
He sidestepped smoothly, his blade carving through its side.
No blood.
No sound.
The thing unraveled, its body dissolving into swirling black mist before vanishing completely.
But there was no time to react. Another one was already upon him, its limbs stretching unnaturally as it reached for his throat.
His shadow moved before he did.
A tendril lashed out, wrapping around the creature's arm and yanking it backward. The Faceless One shrieked, its golden eye flickering wildly as it struggled.
Asher's fist drove into its mask with a sickening crunch.
The entity convulsed. Then, like the first, it vanished.
He landed lightly, exhaling. His pulse remained steady.
They were not invincible.
But they were still watching.
The lead entity had not moved.
It stood at the center of the throne room, its golden eye staring unblinking.
Its voice did not come from its mouth. It came from everywhere.
"You are not meant to exist."
Asher's lips curled into a smirk.
"Then stop me."
The Faceless Ones charged.
He met them head-on.
His sword cut through the air, meeting the twisted forms of his enemies with a brutal precision that defied human limits. Each strike was clean, efficient, a reminder that before he had become this, before he had awakened, before he had even set foot in the tower—he had been a soldier.
And soldiers did not fear monsters.
His blade found purchase in the chest of another Faceless One, but before it could vanish, something different happened.
His shadow consumed it.
Not absorbed.
Not erased.
Devoured.
Asher's breath hitched for a fraction of a second as he felt something enter him. A rush of knowledge, a brief flicker of memory that was not his own.
A city standing tall under golden skies.
A king without a face, sitting upon a throne that did not belong to him.
A curse whispered into the ears of thousands.
Then it was gone.
The Faceless One disappeared, its energy pulled into Asher's being.
The golden eye of the lead entity widened.
It had not expected this.
Neither had Asher.
His fingers twitched. He felt… stronger.
He did not understand it yet, but he knew one thing.
These things were made of something stolen.
And whatever he was becoming—he could take it back.
The next Faceless One lunged at him, but this time, he did not cut it down.
He let his shadow consume it whole.
The entity writhed, its golden eye flickering wildly before it collapsed into him.
More memories. More stolen fragments.
The throne room shuddered.
The golden runes on the Nameless One's throne fractured.
The lead entity reacted.
"Enough."
The entire chamber shifted.
The walls twisted, warping into something that defied logic, stretching into an endless abyss of black and gold. Space itself folded, swallowing the remaining Faceless Ones into its depths.
And Asher found himself standing alone.
Only the lead entity remained.
It did not attack.
It did not move.
It simply watched.
Then, it did something it had not done before.
It took a step back.
Asher tilted his head.
For the first time, the Faceless Ones feared him.
They had tried to erase him, to drag him into the same fate as the city they had stolen.
And instead, he had stolen from them.
The entity's voice was softer now.
"The Tower will not allow this."
Asher exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
"Let it try."
The throne cracked.
A deafening chime echoed through the air.
And the Tower itself reacted.
Beyond the Forgotten City, beyond the tower's endless floors, beyond the realms of mortals, the gods stirred.
From their thrones of light and shadow, they turned their gaze toward the disturbance that rippled through the Tower of Gods and Demons.
Something had changed.
Something had been taken that was not meant to be touched.
And the one who had done it—was no longer bound by their rules.
A figure cloaked in golden light leaned forward, their voice carrying across the void.
"This is not possible."
A being wrapped in abyssal darkness answered.
"And yet, it has happened."
The gods and demons had shaped the Tower. They had made the rules. They had played this game for countless eons.
But now—
A piece had moved on its own.
A piece had become something else.
A third voice, one that had remained silent for a long time, finally spoke.
"He does not belong to us anymore."
For the first time in the Tower's long, endless existence—
The gods were afraid.