Chapter 28 – The Choice That Shouldn’t Exist
"You are the last Sentinel."
The words hung in the air like a blade, hovering just over Riven's throat, daring him to acknowledge them.
The Hollow Monarch—his twisted, void-eyed reflection—stood motionless before the throne, watching. Waiting.
For what?
Riven wasn't sure if the pounding in his skull was from the weight of the Monarch's words or the sheer pressure of the room around them. The air was wrong. Heavy. Like standing in the eye of a storm that hadn't yet touched down.
Vex was the first to speak.
"Okay. First of all—hell no." His gun was raised, but his hand was shaking. "Second—what the hell does that mean? The last Sentinel? What about all the others? What about—"
"Gone," the Monarch said simply.
Riven felt his stomach twist.
Vex faltered for a fraction of a second before regaining his composure. "Right. Cool. Love that. Super ominous. But I'm gonna need a better answer than—"
"You already know."
The Monarch's head tilted, just slightly, and suddenly the walls came alive.
The mirrors lining the throne room shattered all at once.
Except there was no glass. No shards.
Only memories.
A flood of them, rushing toward Riven like a collapsing tidal wave.
And suddenly, he was somewhere else.
---
A Thousand Dead Realities
He stood on the battlefield of a war that should have ended decades ago.
Corpses lined the streets—heroes, villains, those caught in between. The sky burned red, choked with smoke and screams that had long since faded into silence.
Riven stumbled forward, boots scraping against ash.
Because this world wasn't destroyed.
It was erased.
And standing in the middle of it all, waiting for him, was himself.
Another version. Another Sentinel.
But this one wasn't wearing armor.
He was wearing chains.
Bound. Broken. Kneeling before an unseen force that had hollowed him out from the inside.
"What—" Riven started, but before he could finish, he was somewhere else.
---
A city where he had never existed.
Where no one remembered him.
He saw Vera pass him on the street, eyes empty, like he was nothing more than a shadow.
He called her name.
She didn't even flinch.
---
A battlefield where he stood alone, a blade in his hand, fighting an enemy he couldn't see.
Every time he struck, his sword met nothing.
And yet—he was bleeding.
---
A future where the Sentinel had never risen.
Where the Monarch had already won.
---
And then—darkness.
Silence.
The flood stopped.
Riven gasped, snapping back into the throne room like a man who had just surfaced from drowning. His chest ached. His lungs burned.
His hands were trembling.
Because he had seen it.
Every version of himself that had lost.
Every reality that had collapsed.
And now…
He understood.
---
A Truth He Couldn't Accept
"This isn't about erasing heroes," Riven breathed.
The Monarch just watched.
"It's about me."
Vex exhaled sharply, gripping his gun tighter. "You wanna elaborate before I freak the hell out?"
Riven's throat was dry.
"The unraveling isn't random. It's not just wiping out heroes. It's… it's undoing every possible version of me." He looked up, meeting the Monarch's gaze. "Until there's only one left."
Silence.
And then—
"Yes."
A simple confirmation. Nothing more.
But it felt like a hammer to the chest.
Vex swore. "Nope. Nope. Absolutely the hell not. That's some existential horror nonsense and I'm—" He stopped, eyes narrowing. "Wait. Why? Why just him?"
The Monarch didn't answer immediately.
Then, in a voice colder than the void itself, it said:
"Because you are the only one who can replace me."
Riven froze.
Vex froze.
The words didn't make sense at first.
Then—they did.
"No," Riven whispered, shaking his head. "That's not—"
"You have seen the unraveling." The Monarch stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "You have felt the Hollow's pull. The echoes of all that has already been erased. You know what is coming, Sentinel."
It lifted a hand—gesturing toward the throne.
"You know what must be done."
Riven's heart pounded.
Because he knew exactly what the Monarch was asking of him.
It wasn't trying to erase him.
It was trying to replace itself.
It was offering him the throne.
It was offering him the Hollow.
And deep down…
Some part of him understood why.
---
The Weight of the Throne
"You think I'd take your place?" Riven growled.
The Monarch's expression never changed. "You already have."
Vex was shaking his head violently. "Nope. Absolutely not. We are NOT doing this. Riven, do NOT listen to—"
"I'm not!" Riven snapped. But his voice wasn't as steady as it should have been.
Because the truth was pressing against his ribs like a blade:
This was the only way to stop it.
The Hollow couldn't be destroyed. It had never been a single being.
It was a cycle.
One ruler falls. Another takes its place.
The unraveling would never stop unless someone contained it.
Unless someone sat on that throne.
And now…
It was his turn.
---
The Final Question
The Monarch extended its hand.
A choice.
A fate that had already played out across a thousand timelines.
"Will you take the throne?"
Riven stared at that outstretched hand, at the pulsing, shifting seat of power behind it.
Every part of his body screamed to refuse.
But deep in his chest—the Hollow was already there.
And for the first time since this all began…
He wasn't sure if he had a choice.