Death and The Throne of No Escape

Chapter 20 – Death and The Throne of No Escape

Leon hit the ground hard.

The landing rattled his bones, knocked the wind from his chest, and sent a sharp jolt up his spine. He groaned, rolled onto his side, and coughed once before dragging himself up to a kneel.

Every joint screamed.

'Everything hurts.'

But the pain faded quickly into something worse—

Stillness.

And silence.

He pushed himself upright and finally took in the room.

Not a cave.

Not part of the dungeon.

This place was different.

Wrong.

The stone underfoot was too smooth. The walls too straight. There were torches hovering in the air, flames blue and unmoving, as if time inside this chamber had stopped breathing altogether.

Tapestries lined the black walls—twisted art, distorted symbols, faces that looked half-human and half-suffering.

And then—

He saw it.

The throne.

A jagged construct of bone, blackened iron, and obsidian, carved like something meant to wound anyone who sat on it.

And seated atop it—

Leon froze.

A creature.

It was humanoid.

But not.

Its legs were crossed, posture casual—almost relaxed—but nothing about it was comforting. Its body was built like obsidian sculpted into sharp edges, and faint, flickering light pulsed beneath the cracks of its stone-like skin.

Its face was carved with angles too perfect to be human—and smiling.

Not kindly.

Just watching.

Like it had been waiting.

Leon didn't move.

Didn't speak.

He felt its eyes pin him like a nail through a bug.

And near the throne, leaned beside it with quiet menace, rested a massive black hammer. The thing was as tall as Leon himself—its edges jagged, warped by heat, pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own.

He felt it in his ribs.

Pressure.

Heavy. Suffocating.

The kind that made his instincts scream and his knees tremble.

'What… is that?'

His fingers curled around his daggers.

But it felt stupid.

Like holding a butter knife at a dragon.

If he'd known—if he had even guessed what lay down that passage—he wouldn't have jumped.

There was no exit.

No doors. No tunnels. No vents. No magic circle humming in the corner waiting to save him.

Just him.

The throne.

And the thing sitting on it.

Smiling.

It hadn't moved.

It hadn't said a word.

But Leon could feel it looking straight through him.

Sizing him up.

Like a curious cat toying with a mouse it hadn't decided to kill yet.

'This isn't a battle room. It's an execution chamber.'

He shifted his weight. His legs didn't want to move.

His breath came shallow.

Was this fear?

Yes.

Real, undiluted fear.

The kind that burned cold.

The kind he hadn't felt since the day he died.

I can't win. I know I can't win.

But still—his body moved.

One step.

Then another.

Until he stood steady. Knees locked. Daggers in hand.

He couldn't run.

So he'd fight.

'I had to fight even if it seemed hopeless, somehow I had to win as it was the only way to escape' 

'Pull Every trick I could think of'

Even if it was suicide.

Just as he set his stance—

The creature vanished.

Gone.

Instantly.

Like a mirage erased from reality.

Leon's eyes went wide.

The hammer still leaned beside the throne.

But the creature—

'Where?!'

He hadn't blinked.

Hadn't looked away.

It had just… disappeared.

No sound. No movement. No trace.

'It didn't jump. Didn't dash. Didn't teleport.'

It simply was.

And now—it wasn't.

Leon didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

He felt the pressure still hanging in the air.

It was still here.

Somewhere.

Watching.

And for the first time in his life—more than hunger, more than pain, more than humiliation—

He didn't want to be seen.

Not by whatever that was.

Not in this room.

Not like this.

But it was too late.

He'd already been noticed.

And the game?

It had already started.

'''

Leon didn't hear it.

He felt it.

A force like a sledgehammer, dense as the world itself, slammed into his right side with a soundless, bone-deep crack.

Then pain.

Unimaginable. Blinding.

His ribs folded inward, the air left his lungs in a single, shattered grunt, and his body launched across the chamber like a puppet cut from its strings.

He didn't hit the wall.

He imploded into it.

Stone cracked.

Blood burst from his mouth the moment his spine kissed the obsidian, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap of limbs that didn't know where they belonged anymore.

'Agh—gghhk—'

He tried to breathe. Nothing came.

Just gurgling. Wet and red.

His right side was gone—not literally, but the pain made it feel like a void had replaced it. Broken. Crushed. Bones out of place, nerves screaming.

Still alive. Somehow.

Why?

Why wasn't he dead?

Why hadn't it finished him?

His vision blurred. He blinked blood from his eyes.

Then he saw the blur of movement again.

Too fast.

Not teleportation. Just speed—impossible speed.

The creature appeared to his left, crouched low, head tilted in that same mocking amusement. One finger tapped the ground lazily. The other hand reached out—

And grabbed Leon by the leg.

Slam.

He was lifted like a rag.

Slam.

Driven spine-first into the stone floor.

Slam. Slam. Slam.

The world became blood and impact. His body stopped registering damage individually—just one long chain of agony blurred into endless strikes.

His vision dimmed again.

He didn't scream.

He couldn't.

Even his lungs felt cracked.

The thing dropped him—let him crumple on the ground like discarded meat—and walked away.

Casually.

As if that little tantrum had been stretching.

Leon's left arm bent wrong. His right hand wouldn't close. His ankle was broken—he could feel the angle.

And still—

The monster hadn't killed him.

It turned once more, slow and elegant, and approached again.

Then—

Crack.

Another kick. Not hard. Not even full strength.

Just enough to roll Leon across the floor like a ragdoll.

He hit the side of a Pillar.

Coughed up more blood.

Some teeth came with it.

The creature crouched down in front of him, tilted its head, and finally—

Spoke.

Or maybe not.

There was no sound.

Just a feeling.

A wordless pressure invading his skull.

'"Pathetic."'

Leon's vision doubled.

His heart was slowing.

He could feel it.

He was dying.

This was it.

The monster didn't care. It was enjoying itself—like a bored child with a new toy. It walked circles around him, never striking too hard, just enough to make sure he stayed aware.

Just enough to prolong it.

It wasn't killing him.

It was breaking him.

Minute by minute. Nerve by nerve.

Leon's body was barely recognizable now.

One arm hung loose.

The other was crushed under him.

His legs wouldn't respond.

He couldn't even lift his head.

Only his eyes moved—and they locked onto the throne.

The creature sat again.

Crossed its legs once more.

And stared at him.

Smiling.

Watching him die.

Like it was waiting for the last flicker of light to leave his eyes.

And Leon—gasping, bleeding, broken—

Watched it back.

No words.

No curses.

No prayers.

Just two dying eyes staring up at a god of violence.

And one fragile thought still screaming behind them.

'I can't die like this'

'I don't want to die here.' 

'Not like this.' 

'Not a toy.' 

'Not a victim.' 

I came to live— 

Not fade.

**