Chapter 20 – Death and The Throne of No Escape
Leon hit the ground hard. The impact rattled his bones, knocked the wind from his chest, and sent a jolt climbing up his spine. He groaned, rolled onto his side, and coughed once before dragging himself to his knees. Every joint screamed. 'Everything hurts.'
But the pain faded quickly into something worse: stillness, and silence.
He pushed himself upright and finally looked around.
This wasn't a cave. Not even part of the dungeon.
It was different here. Wrong.
The stone beneath his palms was smooth, unnaturally so. The walls were sharp and straight, unnaturally symmetrical. Blue torches hovered in the air without holders, frozen mid-flicker like time itself had stopped breathing inside this place. Tapestries lined the walls—black fabric etched with twisted art, distorted symbols, and faces that looked half-human and wholly in pain.
And then he saw it.
The throne.
It was a jagged construct of bone, blackened iron, and obsidian—each part shaped like it was meant to wound the one who sat on it. And seated atop it… Leon froze.
There was a creature. Humanoid in shape, but far from human.
Its legs were crossed, posture oddly casual, almost relaxed, but nothing about it invited comfort. Its body looked like it had been sculpted from obsidian and shattered glass, every edge sharp, with faint flickers of light pulsing in the cracks of its dark, stone-like skin. Its face was carved with angles too perfect to be real. And it was smiling. Not kindly—just watching.
Like it had been waiting.
Leon didn't move. Didn't speak. He just stood there, every nerve on fire, feeling the weight of the creature's eyes pinning him in place like a bug caught on a needle.
Leaning against the throne with quiet menace was a massive hammer, as tall as Leon himself. Its edges were jagged and warped like they had been tempered in flames and left to smolder. It pulsed faintly—like it had a heartbeat.
Leon 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 even as he gripped them, it felt ridiculous. Like holding a butter knife at a dragon.
If he'd known—if he had even guessed what lay down that hidden passage—he wouldn't have jumped. There was no exit. No doors, no tunnels, no vents, no glowing sigils promising escape. Just him. The throne. And the thing watching him.
Still smiling.
It hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. But Leon could feel its gaze slicing through him, dissecting him, as if measuring the exact amount of effort it would take to break him in half.
'Not a battle room. An execution chamber.'
He shifted his weight. His legs didn't want to move. His breath came shallow and uneven. Was this fear? Yes. The real kind. 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 even so—his body moved. One step. Then another. Until he stood steady. Knees locked. Daggers drawn.
He couldn't run. So he'd fight.
'I have to fight, even if it's hopeless. Somehow, I have to survive. Pull every trick I've learned, every edge I've earned... even if it's suicide.'
He set his stance. And the creature vanished.
Gone.
Instantly.
Like a mirage erased from reality.
Leon's eyes widened. The hammer was still there, untouched.
But the creature—
'Where?!'
He hadn't blinked. Hadn't looked away.
It had just disappeared.
No sound. No flicker. No motion. One moment it existed—and then it didn't.
'It didn't jump. Didn't dash. Didn't teleport. It just... isn't.'
Leon froze. His breath caught in his throat.
The pressure in the room didn't vanish with the creature. It still hung heavy in the air.
It was 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 like this.
But it was too late.
He'd already been noticed.
And whatever game this was, it had already begun.
He didn't hear the first strike. He felt it.
A force like a falling mountain slammed into his side with a sickening, bone-deep crack. His ribs caved in. His lungs emptied in a single broken gasp as he was hurled across the chamber like a doll.
He didn't just hit the wall—he crumpled into it.
The stone cracked on impact. Blood sprayed from his mouth the moment his spine kissed the obsidian, and he collapsed in a heap of twisted limbs that didn't know where they belonged.
'Agh—gghhk—'
He tried to breathe. Nothing came. Just gurgling—wet and red.
His right side was a void. Not severed, but shattered. Bone and nerve disarrayed. Still alive. Somehow.
'Why? Why am I not dead? Why hasn't it finished me?'
He blinked blood from his eyes.
Then saw movement again. Not teleportation. Just speed. Pure, impossible speed.
The creature crouched to his left, head tilted in lazy amusement. One finger tapped the ground. The other reached forward—and grabbed Leon by the leg.
Slam.
He was lifted like a sack.
Slam.
Driven spine-first into the stone floor.
Slam. Slam. Slam.
His body stopped registering blows individually. It became one long, indistinct chain of agony. The world blurred. He couldn't scream—his lungs were too far gone.
Then it let him go. Dropped him like discarded trash and walked away, casual and unbothered.
Leon's limbs twitched where they lay. His left arm bent the wrong way. His right hand couldn't close. His ankle throbbed in angles it wasn't meant to bend.
And still—it wasn't over.
The creature turned again. Walked toward him.
Then kicked.
Not with force. Not even with intent.
Just enough to roll him.
He slammed into the side of a nearby pillar. Coughed. More blood spilled. A couple teeth too.
The creature crouched in front of him, tilted its head—and spoke. Or maybe not.
There was no voice. Just a pressure. Like a thought pressed into his brain.
"Pathetic."
Leon's vision blurred. His heartbeat slowed.
He was dying.
This was it.
And the creature didn't care.
It strolled around him like a child with a broken toy, striking just enough to keep him conscious. Just enough to make him feel every second slip away. Its pace was unhurried, its cruelty deliberate, and its eyes never strayed.
It wasn't killing him. It was unraveling him. Minute by minute. Piece by piece.
His body was wrecked. One arm hung useless. The other crushed. Legs unresponsive. Head heavy. Only his eyes still worked.
And they locked onto the throne.
The creature sat again, folding its legs with fluid grace as though it had never moved at all. It leaned back into the jagged throne like it belonged there, the obsidian edges cutting faint silhouettes against the blue flame's glow. Then it smiled—a quiet, unreadable curve of its angular lips—and kept its gaze fixed on Leon. Watching. Waiting.
It was waiting. Watching him fade.
Leon stared back.
No curses. No cries.
Just broken breaths and one thought echoing louder than his heartbeat:
'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.