Chapter 31 – A Throne Made of Thorns
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Chapter 31 – A Throne Made of Thorns
By Dorian Blackthorn
Tagline: In a tower that breaks the soul, only monsters climb to the top.
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The wind on Floor 52 did not howl—it whispered. Whispered secrets. Regrets. Echoes of those who had come before and never left.
Erevan stepped into a garden overgrown with crimson vines. Statues of long-forgotten champions littered the space—each twisted in agony, their faces frozen in the moment they broke. Stone tears ran down their cheeks. The vines fed on those.
He didn't pause to admire the scenery. He already understood the truth of this floor.
It wasn't meant to test strength.
It was meant to test guilt.
> [Floor 52 – The Garden of Thorns]
[Here lies the weight you tried to forget.]
The Tower was no longer playing games.
Erevan moved forward, boots crunching on pale petals scattered like ash. With each step, the vines trembled—recoiling at first, then slowly inching toward him. They wanted his story. His sins.
He could feel them digging already. Probing the edges of his memory.
But something had changed.
He no longer flinched.
> Remembrance: 21%
Emotional Access Layer: Stabilized. Suppressed empathy partially restored.
He almost laughed.
Almost.
Because now, he felt it again—the cost of what he'd done. Not just in blood or time or souls… but in moments. Conversations that never happened. Futures that never unfolded.
One thorny stalk twisted ahead of him, parting like a curtain. Behind it stood a throne.
Not gold. Not obsidian.
Bone.
It was shaped from the spines of oathbreakers, their skulls fused into the armrests. Upon it sat no king—but a mirror.
A perfect replica of Erevan.
Except this one smiled.
Cruel. Cold. Regal.
"You're almost there," it said. "Almost me."
Erevan didn't stop walking. "You're just an echo. A cautionary tale."
"No," the doppelgänger said. "I'm the inevitability."
He gestured to the world around them.
"You killed the Heart Engine. Crushed the Avatar. Severed your own memories so you could rise faster. And for what?"
A pause.
Erevan's silence wasn't denial—it was confirmation.
"To save them," he said at last. "To destroy what broke us all."
"Spare me," the copy spat. "You climbed for power. You still do."
The vines surged forward, blooming with faces. A child. A friend. A lover. All lost. All sacrificed.
"You didn't let them die," the copy whispered. "You chose it."
Erevan's eyes flickered. Not with shame. Not with fear.
Resolve.
"Yes," he said. "I did."
The garden shuddered. The vines hissed.
"But if I hadn't," he continued, stepping closer, "the Tower would've devoured everyone anyway. So yes… I chose who would die."
The mirror Erevan stood.
"You chose to become me."
Erevan reached out—not to strike, but to grasp. His hand passed through the reflection.
And the reflection laughed.
> [Acknowledgement of Truth – Resistance Penalty Nullified]
[You have embraced one of your truths: 'Sacrifice is not weakness.']
[Trait Gained: Thorn-Kissed Will]
[+15% Resistance to Psychological Interference | +3% Abysswalker Progress]
The copy vanished.
The throne cracked.
And the garden withered.
> [Floor Cleared.]
But Erevan didn't feel cleansed.
He felt heavy.
Because that truth… was only one of many.
The path ahead opened, revealing an obsidian elevator—a relic from the Tower's early design, now overridden by Erevan's presence. It didn't hum. It didn't shine.
It bled.
Crimson glyphs flowed like veins along its walls. It didn't take him up. Or down.
It took him inward.
As the doors closed, he whispered a name. One the Tower hadn't yet taken from him.
"…Arielle."
Not with longing.
But with a promise.
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