The Lazy Chronicles: Apartment of the Apocalypse-Chapter 110 - 111 – The Road to the Silent Tower

The wind howled through the ruins, carrying the echoes of their battle. The air still felt heavy, but the suffocating darkness that once clung to the city had begun to fade.

Mallory adjusted the Blade of Heroes on her back. The golden light it once radiated was dim now, its power spent in sealing the First Horror.

But she knew.

It was only the beginning.

A New Destination

"The Oracle mentioned other prisons," Alex said, standing at the edge of the crumbling cathedral. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon, where distant mountains loomed beyond the desert. "If we’re going to stop whatever’s coming, we need to find the next one."

Mallory turned to the Oracle. "Where do we go next?"

The masked figure hesitated, then raised a skeletal hand. From their palm, a small, silver ember flickered into existence.

"The Silent Tower," the Oracle intoned. "It stands beyond the Ashen Wastes, hidden in the shattered lands. It was once a beacon of knowledge... now it is a tomb."

Greg groaned. "Why is everything we need in the most cursed places imaginable?"

Elara smirked. "Wouldn’t be fun otherwise."

Quinn adjusted his coat, flicking dust off his sleeve. "Alright, then. How do we get there?"

The Oracle’s silver ember flickered, growing larger until it formed a rough shape—a tower, standing alone in a desolate wasteland. Around it, jagged ruins and deep chasms marred the land, as if the earth itself had been torn apart.

"You will find it here," the Oracle said. "But be warned... the path is guarded."

"By what?" Mallory asked.

The Oracle’s voice lowered.

"The Forgotten."

A heavy silence followed.

Greg threw up his hands. "Great. Fantastic. Sounds totally safe."

Mallory ignored him, turning back to the Oracle. "Anything else we should know?"

The masked figure studied her for a long moment. Then, softly, they spoke:

"Not all prisons were meant to be opened."

The words sent a chill down her spine.

But she couldn’t stop now.

The Journey Begins

The group left the ruins behind, moving swiftly through the desert before the city’s unnatural energy could return.

They had spent enough time in a cursed wasteland for one lifetime.

The journey to the Silent Tower would take days, possibly weeks, depending on the dangers that lurked between here and the Ashen Wastes.

The first night, they camped beneath an overhang of rock, setting up a small fire.

Mallory sat apart from the group, turning the Blade of Heroes over in her hands. The golden light that had once burned brightly was reduced to a faint glow.

The sword felt... different.

Not weaker—just changed.

Alex walked over and sat beside her. "You okay?"

She sighed. "I don’t know. The sword—" She hesitated. "I think it’s still adjusting to me."

Alex studied it. "It belonged to a lot of people before you. Maybe it’s remembering them."

Mallory looked at the weapon. Was that it?

Or was it something else?

She shook the thought away. "We should rest. We have a long way to go."

Alex nodded, standing. "We’ll figure it out. Together."

Mallory watched as he returned to the fire, where Greg was already complaining about the food.

She smiled faintly.

No matter what awaited them—she wasn’t facing it alone.

The Ashen Wastes

By the third day, the landscape began to change.

The golden sands of the desert turned to ashen gray, and the air grew cold and dry. The ground cracked beneath their boots, and the wind carried whispers that seemed to come from nowhere.

"This place sucks," Greg muttered.

Mallory ignored him, scanning the horizon.

The Silent Tower was still far away, but the land around them was growing more unnatural.

And then, they found the first corpse.

A lone figure, half-buried in ash, its armor rusted and broken. Mallory knelt beside it, brushing dust away from the breastplate.

No insignia. No markings.

Alex frowned. "Who were they?"

Elara narrowed her eyes. "More importantly... what killed them?"

Quinn stepped forward. "Guys. We’re not alone."

They turned.

The wind picked up, and from the shifting ash, figures began to rise.

Mallory’s grip tightened on her sword.

The Forgotten had found them.

And they were not going to let them pass.

The First Attack

The ash-born creatures lurched forward, hollow figures wrapped in decayed armor, their faces obscured by ancient, crumbling helmets.

Their eyes burned with pale blue light.

Then—

They charged.

Mallory barely raised her blade in time to parry the first strike. Sparks flew as she locked swords with the nearest Forgotten, its strength inhumanly powerful.

Quinn rolled beneath a swinging axe, slashing upward with his twin daggers. Elara raised both hands, summoning a blast of white fire that consumed two of the creatures.

Alex moved with brutal efficiency, cutting through their attackers with precise, calculated blows.

Greg, meanwhile, was running for his life.

"WHY ARE THEY CHASING ME?!" he yelped, ducking as a massive Forgotten warrior swung a rusted greatsword at him.

"Probably because you’re loud!" Quinn called back.

Greg wheezed. "THAT’S NOT FAIR."

Mallory grit her teeth. This wasn’t working.

The Forgotten weren’t staying down.

Every time one fell, the ash pulled them back together.

"We can’t keep fighting them like this!" she shouted.

Elara panted. "Then what do we do?"

Mallory’s mind raced.

Then she remembered the Oracle’s words.

Not all prisons were meant to be opened.

She looked down at the first corpse they had found—

And then she understood.

"This land isn’t a battlefield," she whispered.

Alex heard her. "What?"

Mallory turned to them, eyes wide.

"It’s a graveyard."

Breaking the Cycle

The Forgotten weren’t attacking them out of rage or duty.

They were trapped.

Bound to this place, unable to rest.

And if they didn’t break the cycle—they would never stop coming.

Mallory took a breath, then stepped forward, lowering her blade.

The nearest Forgotten hesitated.

The others stopped.

Elara frowned. "Mallory?"

Mallory took another step. "You don’t have to fight us."

The Forgotten watched her.

Then, slowly, one of them removed its helmet.

Beneath it was a human face—withered, ancient, but still alive.

The soldier’s lips parted, and in a hoarse whisper, he spoke:

"Free us."

Mallory understood.

She raised the Blade of Heroes and pressed the tip into the ashen ground. The golden light flared to life once more, and for the first time—

The Forgotten began to fade.

One by one, they vanished, their forms dissolving into dust, carried away by the wind.

And in the silence that followed, Mallory felt something deep within the blade.

A quiet voice.

Thank you.

The Tower Awaits

The group stood in stunned silence.

Greg wiped sweat from his brow. "That was horrifying."

Quinn let out a breath. "But it worked."

Elara nodded. "You set them free."

Mallory looked ahead, where the Silent Tower now loomed in the distance.

She didn’t know what awaited them inside.

But as she tightened her grip on the blade—

She knew she was ready.

The next prison was waiting.

And she would face it.

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