Chapter 528: Inevitable XIII
The silence was heavy, almost unbearable—like the void itself was holding its breath.
Shattered fragments of the battlefield drifted in weightless suspension. What once had been veins of hunger were now empty scars across the dark, bleeding faint motes of color into nothingness. The Maw was gone—or at least, gone enough that the world could breathe again.
Naval collapsed first, his trident sinking against the fractured ground as he fell to his knees. Blood streamed down his arms where the veins had burst, his voice rasping through broken teeth. "It’s... over..."
Roselia staggered, her staff split clean down the middle. She stared at the faint ember still clinging to her palm, then let out a laugh—half sob, half relief. "We... survived. Saints, we actually survived."
Liliana knelt in front of Leon, her fingers still shaking as she pressed torn threads against his broken frame. She was pale as death, her lips trembling as she whispered, "Don’t fade. Please, not after everything..."
Roman’s fists were split and raw, bone jutting beneath torn skin, but he forced himself upright. He stood over Leon like a wall, daring even the void itself to try again. "Stay with us, brother. Don’t you dare go quiet now."
Milim trembled as she clung to his back, her starfire long extinguished. Her forehead pressed against his shoulder, hot tears streaking down her cheeks. "Leon... wake up... if you sleep now, I’ll never forgive you."
And Leon—he was still burning. His chest glowed faintly, the remnants of the Fifth Pulse flickering inside him like an unstable star. Every breath came ragged, each one threatening to be his last. His rings were shattered, pieces orbiting him weakly, flickering with dying sparks of resonance.
But then—his lips moved.
A ragged whisper, sharp as glass:
"Did... you see it?"
The others froze.
Leon’s cracked grin returned, blood painting his teeth as he forced his eyes half-open. "...The Maw... bled."
Naval let out a sound between a roar and a sob, slamming his trident against the ground in triumph. Roselia laughed again, this time through tears. Roman’s shoulders shook, but his fist tightened. Liliana pressed harder, her threads glowing faintly as if his words had lit her own. And Milim sobbed openly, her forehead digging harder into his back.
The void around them trembled, but it was not hunger anymore. It was aftermath—the space left behind when inevitability itself had been broken.
And within that silence, something deeper stirred.
The Tower of Echoes shivered, its distant floors vibrating like strings on an unseen instrument. The echo of the Fifth Pulse had not stopped—it had spread. The collapse of the Maw’s heart was not an end. It was a wound, one that reached beyond Glothar, beyond this battlefield.
Far above, thrones cracked. Far below, forgotten layers awakened. The Tower itself seemed to whisper in rhythm with Leon’s fractured heartbeat.
They had won.
But the war had only just shifted.
The Tower did not celebrate their victory.
It answered it.
The battlefield’s silence broke as ripples surged outward, carried on resonance older than thrones, older than crowns. Every floor of the Tower of Echoes quivered in sympathetic response, like a vast instrument plucked by a single reckless hand.
Naval lifted his head, sweat and blood blurring his eyes, and felt it through the haft of his trident. "The Tower... it’s moving..."
Roselia staggered upright, clutching her broken staff. She could feel her ember flare with the distant rhythm. "No... it’s singing back."
Liliana froze mid-stitch, her hands trembling as the threads between her fingers began to hum on their own, glowing with resonance she hadn’t woven. Her lips parted, realization dawning in horror and awe. "It’s not just Leon anymore. His pulse... it’s in everything."
Roman braced himself, though his fists could no longer close. Even fractured, even shattered, his body remembered battlefields—and this wasn’t an ending. "Then the Tower knows what we’ve done. And it’s not going to let us walk away clean."
Milim clenched tighter against Leon, refusing to release him as the void around them pulsed like a heartbeat. She snarled through tears, voice hoarse. "Let it shake. Let it scream. He broke inevitability—they can’t take that away."
Leon stirred faintly, his chest still glowing like a cracked lantern. His eyes, half-lidded, shifted upward toward the unseen spires above. Through pain, through ruin, through the taste of blood in his mouth, he rasped:
"...the Thrones felt it. Every Sovereign, every warden. The rhythm reached them..."
And then his body convulsed. His rings—shattered fragments orbiting in loose, chaotic trails—lit in unison for the briefest of moments, throwing shards of resonance that cut through the void like lightning bolts.
From far above, in chambers unseen, Thrones broke. Cracks split the seats of power. Resonant voices once thought eternal faltered mid-chant.
From far below, forgotten prisons shuddered. Locked doors, chained in silence for eons, trembled as if something within had stirred awake.
The Tower of Echoes was no longer still.
Naval gritted his teeth, trying to steady himself against the shaking void. "Leon... what did you do?"
Leon coughed, white fire spilling with the blood. His grin was faint, broken, but fierce.
"...I played the Tower back its own song."
And then his body finally slackened in their arms, the last glow of the Fifth Pulse flickering like the final ember of a dying star.
The battlefield trembled, torn between collapse and rebirth. Above them, the Thrones were waking. Below them, the forgotten stirred.
The Maw had bled.
The Tower had heard.
And the true war had only just begun.?"
The Tower of Echoes was no longer still.
Naval gritted his teeth, trying to steady himself against the shaking void. "Leon... what did you do?"
Leon coughed, white fire spilling with the blood. His grin was faint, broken, but fierce.
"...I played the Tower back its own song."
And then his body finally slackened in their arms, the last glow of the Fifth Pulse flickering like the final ember of a dying star.
The battlefield trembled, torn between collapse and rebirth. Above them, the Thrones were waking. Below them, the forgotten stirred.
The Maw had bled.
The Tower had heard.
And the true war had only just begun.?"