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Chapter 125 – The Shadow That Spoke
The figure stood still at the center of the warped node, the mist coiling around its limbs like hungry serpents. Time itself seemed to slow in its presence, the air so dense it pressed against their skin like a second layer. Erevan's breath came in sharp, calculated measures. Every instinct in him screamed of danger—but also familiarity. He had seen this presence before.
Not in the Tower.
Not in the Nodes.
But within himself.
"Do you recognize me now?" the figure asked. Its voice no longer echoing, but direct—closer. Almost personal.
Erevan narrowed his eyes. The fog thinned just enough for him to glimpse its face. It was blurred, like a corrupted mirror reflecting his own image, but twisted. More tired. More cruel. More empty.
Lyra drew her weapon, but Erevan extended a hand.
"No. Let it speak."
The figure tilted its head with the same bone-cracking motion Erevan had seen from the Pale Choir. Its eyes were hollow voids, and yet they burned with an emotion Erevan could only describe as… regret.
"I am what remains when resistance dies," the figure said. "What happens when you forget who you are to survive."
Erevan's voice was quiet. "A memory?"
"No," it replied, stepping closer, "a possibility. One the Tower tried to write into you. One you almost became."
And suddenly, Erevan understood.
This wasn't just an illusion or an echo. This was a fork. A discarded version of him—one the Tower had tried to rewrite during his failed rebellion ages ago. A version that had yielded. One that had surrendered hope and accepted servitude to protect those he loved.
A Tyrant not of rebellion—but of compliance.
Erevan clenched his fists. "So what? You're here to scare me? Show me the path I didn't take?"
"No," the shadow said. "I'm here because the Tower has activated the Reintegration Protocol."
Lyra stiffened. "What the hell is that?"
"The Tower," the figure said, "no longer sees you as an anomaly. You are now a critical threat to its narrative core. So it will bring every discarded version of you—every branch, every corrupted path—back to you. To erase you. Or overwrite you."
Erevan's heart slammed against his chest.
All versions of himself. All failures. All betrayals. All forgotten selves.
Coming back.
To consume the one that rebelled.
"It started when you remembered Nyara's song," the shadow said. "When you broke the Heart Engine. When you spoke the name that wasn't meant to be spoken."
Lyra gritted her teeth. "And what happens if he beats you?"
The shadow smiled, and this time it was genuine.
"Then maybe," it whispered, "you'll finally remember why you rebelled in the first place."
Erevan stepped forward. "You're a phantom of surrender. You don't get to wear my face."
The figure bowed, respectfully. "Then prove it."
It raised its hand—and the entire node shattered.
Not physically. But reality itself twisted. The ground inverted. Light became dark. The past bled into the present. Fragments of Erevan's lost selves—each trapped in different timelines—appeared around him. Some were broken. Some were monsters. One knelt at the feet of a System Avatar.
Each version whispered a line.
"You failed."
"You gave up."
"You forgot."
But Erevan didn't fall.
He breathed.
And as he exhaled, a quiet pulse emitted from his chest. A reaction from the hidden stat only a few had seen:
[REMEMBRANCE] – 21%
He closed his eyes, and let it rise.
Visions flickered: Serah's hand pulling him from a node of glass. Veyra's tears before a broken core. Solvane's laughter when he hacked a god.
The voices fell silent.
The shadows flickered.
And then…
He spoke, calmly.
"I remember."
A blinding pulse surged from his form, fracturing the node's false space. The shadow's body staggered, face contorting in pain—not because Erevan attacked, but because he resisted forgetting.
The Tower's greatest enemy wasn't brute force. It was memory.
Erevan stepped forward. "You're not a prophecy. You're a warning. And I've heard enough."
The shadow shattered. But instead of vanishing—it merged.
Erevan gasped as a flood of foreign memory rushed into his mind—half-formed regrets, twisted choices, timelines aborted by fear. He almost collapsed.
Lyra caught him. "Erevan?"
"I'm fine," he said, slowly rising. "I just remembered a door I once closed… and what was on the other side."
A new notification appeared before him:
[Reintegration Successful: +1 Trait Unlocked]
Trait Gained: "Echowalker – You can channel alternate versions of yourself that once were or could have been. Caution: Each use increases exposure to corrupted echoes."
[Remembrance: 27%]
He looked toward the dissolving node, now resetting itself.
One step closer to the truth.
One step closer to why the Tower fears him.
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Author's Note:
This chapter dives deep into Erevan's psyche and teases the true scope of the Tower's erasure tactics. What lies beyond 30%, and what will Echowalker cost Erevan to wield?
10 Stones = 2 Chapters
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We're still riding the bonus wave—next chapter starts right now.
– Dorian Blackthorn
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