Chapter 128 ‒ Fractured Reflections in a Dying Hall
Chapter 128 ‒ Fractured Reflections in a Dying Hall
Tyler’s hand swung down in a single, unstoppable arc. His blade cut clean through Thamutekh’s thick neck, slicing it in one swift motion that felt more like a ritual than a strike.
Thamutekh’s molten eyes widened, flickering with a final, unreadable emotion — shock, relief, amusement — no one could say. His towering head tipped forward, crashing to the floor with a dull, echoing thud.
In that instant, his entire colossal form began to glow softly, faintly, like an ancient lantern fading in a long-forgotten temple. Cracks spread across his obsidian skin, golden light spilling from within. Then, his body broke apart in absolute silence, scattering upward into shimmering motes of light, dissolving into the empty air like drifting stars.
[+90 XP]
[Level Up! Tyler Level 180 → 181]
[Attribute Points: +1]
[Achievement Unlocked: Trials of the Dune]
[Grade: AA]
[Condition: Defeat the Primordial Beast, Thamutekh, the Sovereign of the Shifting Sands]
[Acquired Item: Ancient Bone]
[Acquired Item: Divine Key (5/5)]
[Divine Key Acquired — Thamutekh’s Hourglass]
[Acquired Runestone — Triplicate]
[Skill: Triplicate]
[Summons three clones which are one-third of the user’s level. PE Cost: 21]
The system messages crowded Tyler’s vision, each line flickering bright against the darkness in his helmet. His breaths came in ragged, uneven pulls, like he’d been running underwater. His shoulders shook violently, and his fingers convulsed around his sword hilts, as if they were trying to tear themselves free.
He looked down. Crimson dripped slowly from the blades, trickling down to meet the dust below. Each droplet echoed in his ears like a clock ticking somewhere far away, each splash another reminder of everything he’d become.
“What… have I become?”
The question pressed into his skull like a nail. His mind began spiralling, clawing at each violent, brutal swing he had delivered just moments before — the way his body had moved with inhuman precision, the wild delight that had flooded his veins, the savage glee that felt alien yet horrifyingly intimate.
He saw again that nightmarish vision in the mental void: his other self, looming beyond the dark barrier. It bore his face, but it was wrong. Its skin had been torn and ruptured by old battle wounds that steamed with foul energy, and those eyes… primal, hungry, red as fresh blood spilled under a cruel sun.
Until now, Tyler had always clung to a fragile belief. He had convinced himself that when he lost control — when his body moved like a frenzied beast — it was just his subconscious mind protecting him, some deeply buried instinct erupting in the heat of battle. That it was him, yes, but merely an unfiltered, panicked fragment of himself trying to survive.
And yet… deep down, he had always entertained a comforting delusion. That perhaps, somehow, there was an invader lurking inside. A parasite, a demon, a foreign entity that hijacked his hands and feet. He would tell himself it was not truly him, that his actions were guided by some shadowy intruder that he could one day exorcise.
It was a lie, and he knew it. A lie he crafted so he wouldn’t drown in guilt for Ivory Glen. So he could keep moving after Miho’s tearful screams echoed in his ears. So he could face his reflection without retching at the monster staring back.
A coward’s lie — but a lie that kept his fragile mind from snapping.
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But what he saw in the void… that monster… it wasn’t him. It resembled him only superficially, but it moved with an alien cruelty, a purposeful malice that no mere survival instinct could justify. Its eyes didn’t just thirst for survival — they craved slaughter, delighted in each splinter of bone, each gush of blood.
It couldn’t be him.
“That thing… it isn’t me… it can’t be me… it’s… it’s real… it has to be real…”
The comforting delusion he’d clung to all along, the lie he told himself to survive — in that moment, it transformed into a truth so sharp it sliced through him.
He fell forward slightly, catching himself on his knees. His armour creaked under the weight of his collapse. He gasped, eyes wide, seeing nothing but swirling red haze at the edges of his vision.
“It was real… it was all real… it really isn’t me…”
Hot tears pricked his eyes. He let out a strangled noise, part sob, part dry, broken laugh. His blade tips sank into the sand, leaving dark streaks where they touched.
A shiver coursed through him, rattling every bone, as he opened his status window with trembling fingers.
[Player: Tyler] [Level 181]
[HP: 850/850] [PE: 40/40]
Stats:
> Attack: 30 (+70)
> Defence: 30 (+120)
> Agility: 10
> Speed: 17
> Power Regen: 30
> Accuracy: 15
> Dodge: 15
> Health Regen: 10
Remaining Attribute Points: 31
He scoured every line, every digit, desperate for any sign — a parasite tag, a debuff line, a foreign status effect — something to confirm that this new horrifying truth had some logical anchor.
Nothing.
His eyes darted across the window again and again, as though repetition might conjure an answer. But the text remained sterile, impassive, mocking him with its clinical coldness.
“There’s nothing… there’s no mark… how does it hide so perfectly?”
The thought burrowed under his skin, scratching against his nerves. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out another shuddering breath.
“This… thing… is inside me, but it’s not me… it took my hands, my feet, my voice… and turned them into weapons…”
He forced his gaze to the system window again. One by one, he assigned his stored attribute points, almost mechanically — an act of rote, like folding paper cranes at a funeral.
[Player: Tyler] [Level 181]
[HP: 900/900] [PE: 50/50]
Stats:
> Attack: 40 (+70)
> Defence: 40 (+120)
> Agility: 10
> Speed: 18
> Power Regen: 40
> Accuracy: 15
> Dodge: 15
> Health Regen: 10
Remaining Attribute Points: 0
He closed the window slowly, fingers shaking, each breath scraping up from deep in his chest like broken glass.
The hall lay silent around him, the last motes of Thamutekh’s light still drifting in small, ghostly spirals. A dry breeze moved across the floor, stirring old sand and carrying the scent of ash.
Tyler’s mind drifted. Ivory Glen — reduced to smouldering rubble, its gardens of Chrysopteryxiella Umbrosynth crushed beneath his giant steps, the villagers’ quiet hope obliterated by his careless rampage. Shindo, burning beneath an endless crimson sky — a fire set by Shindeon, yet ultimately his own fault for letting it come to pass. And Milo — that day, that final moment, his eyes a mirror of every failure Tyler could no longer outrun.
His heart thudded, each beat echoing in the hollows of his skull.
“If I return… what then? If I stand on Earth again, in my old room… will I even be me? Will I look in the mirror and see a stranger wearing my face?”
He clenched his jaw. His hand found its way to his helmet, clawing at it as if to tear it off and peel away the monster’s mask.
“What if Milo can’t forgive me?”
“What if he looks at me with that same cold, hollow disappointment?”
“What if… I can’t forgive myself?”
His grip on his swords slackened. The blades slid from his fingers, clattering softly onto the sand below. The sound echoed longer than it should have, like a distant funeral bell.
His eyes caught on the hovering system message.
[Acquired Item: Divine Key (5/5)]
He stared at it. The culmination of everything — every kill, every betrayal, every tear. It glowed gently, almost invitingly, as if expecting him to rejoice.
“Is this… truly an accomplishment?”
No joy welled up. No flood of relief. Instead, a deepening emptiness yawned inside him, a black maw that threatened to swallow everything he was.
“All these keys… all these promises… all these ghosts… what do they mean if I don’t even know who I am anymore?”
His knees pressed deeper into the sand. His shoulders sagged forward.
“Even if I collect them all… even if I open a gate home… will I step through as Tyler… or as that thing?”
A tremor passed through his spine, and for a moment he thought he might collapse completely. His mind spiralled, each thought shredding him further, clawing at his lungs, his ribs, his spirit.
Then —
A voice, clear and cold as moonlit steel, cut through the whirlwind of doubt.
“You scatter yourself too thin, [Player]. If your purpose is to return home, focus…”
Yandeon’s words crashed into his mind like a wave against a crumbling cliff. Tyler’s breathing halted, caught between a sob and a gasp.
Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself upright. His fingers curled, first weakly, then with growing conviction.
“Yes… I cannot lose focus. My purpose was to return home. That was always the reason for these keys, for every step I took. I cannot let myself drift. I must continue moving forward… only forward.”
His head lifted, the tremble in his jaw subsiding slightly. His eyes, though still haunted, narrowed into a fragile clarity.
A flicker of resolve, thin and trembling, yet luminous, sparked behind his battered visor.
“Forward… only forward…”