Chapter 144 ‒ The Silent Room
Chapter 144 ‒ The Silent Room
A suffocating darkness swallowed him whole. Tyler’s body felt weightless yet unbearably heavy, as though his bones had turned to lead while his spirit hovered just beyond reach. He leaned forward, forehead resting against a cold iron door. His fingers trembled against the metal, every breath scraping like glass through his chest.
Beyond the door, he could hear the faint echo of battle — muffled, distant, like screams underwater. He forced his eyes open and stared at the spectral screen hovering before him.
Through its flickering haze, he saw his own limp body, chained and slumped on the battlefield. His head hung low, thin streams of pale energy spiralling upward, dissolving into the night. Each chain pulsed like a beating heart, shimmering in ghostly hues.
His eyes darted, catching glimpses of his allies. Zephryn soared through the sky, wings battered and torn, slicing through Yandeon’s writhing tentacles. Below, Kragg hacked at the chains with his axe, each swing leaving his arms more mangled, his breaths more ragged. Nearby, Nelly hurled blazing fireballs, her lips torn and blood running down her chin, each shout echoing with defiance. Vitamin Ape’s hammer sparked like thunder, arcs of lightning cracking as he slammed at the bindings again and again.
Tyler’s lips parted, his voice breaking as it crawled out of his throat. “Why… Why are you all still there…? When I… when I asked you to run… to live…”
A sudden voice cut through the void, fierce and thunderous.
“For him!”
Kragg’s roar rang through Tyler’s mind like a war drum. Even as his arms bled, he kept swinging, each strike a prayer, a vow.
Another voice followed, cracked and trembling.
“You cannot die, leaving us alone! We will not let you die!”
Nellisa’s voice — sharp yet fragile, echoing with tears and fury.
Tyler slammed a fist against the iron door. The shock shot up his arm, rattling his bones. “No… I can’t die now… I will not die! But…” His gaze lifted, his fingers trembling as they hovered above the door’s surface. “If I want to win… I must first confront what’s inside me… before I can face what’s outside.”
He drew in a deep breath, forcing the tremor from his lungs. Unlike before, when he had pounded and screamed in panic, he now pressed his palm against the cold iron deliberately, feeling every line, every scar etched into its surface. He closed his eyes.
A distant sound drifted to him — a soft, muffled sobbing, like a child lost in the dark. The noise curled into his ribs, tightening around his heart.
Tyler’s eyes snapped open. The void around him shuddered violently, the trembling intensifying with each heartbeat. He glanced once more at the screen, seeing Zephryn caught mid-slice, blood trailing in graceful arcs; Kragg’s knees buckling as he roared in defiance; Nelly’s flames flickering, her tears staining the scorched earth.
“Wait for me…” Tyler whispered. “Just a little longer.”
With a final push, he pressed forward.
A sharp screech — like metal being torn apart — split the silence as the door creaked open. Light leaked out in thin, trembling beams, painting the void in pale stripes. Tyler stepped inside, breath catching in his throat.
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The room beyond was small, impossibly familiar.
A bed sat pushed against the wall, rumpled sheets spilling over its edge. Next to it, a cluttered desk bore an old, flickering lamp that cast a dim circle of warmth. Scattered toys lay across the floor: a wooden sword, a plush dragon missing one eye, small figurines worn from years of play. A cracked poster of a video game character clung stubbornly to the wall above the bed, its edges curling inward.
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A cupboard loomed opposite, one door slightly ajar, and beside it, a table with a battered computer monitor, its screen black and lifeless. Dust coated the keys, yet Tyler’s fingers twitched as if they remembered every keystroke.
The air inside was thick, cloying with the scent of dust and old dreams. Each step felt like trudging through wet sand, his feet heavy, his lungs pulling in air that tasted of forgotten summers and lost laughter.
He stumbled forward, knees almost giving out. His throat tightened as he scanned each detail. The way the lamp’s light pooled felt exactly as it had during countless sleepless nights. The scent of old paper, of summer air drifting in from an unseen window — all of it pressed against his mind like an embrace and a blade at once.
But in the far corner, where the lamp’s weak glow dissolved into shadow, sat a hunched figure. Head bowed low, arms wrapped tightly around something pressed to its chest. Soft, broken sobs spilled from him, echoing like a heartbeat through the room.
Tyler’s breath shivered. He took one hesitant step, then another. “Who… who are you?” he whispered.
The figure flinched, curling tighter into itself. A thin, hoarse voice leaked out. “Leave me alone…”
Tyler’s fingers curled at his sides. “I… I can’t. I need to know. I need to understand.”
A beat of silence. Then, slowly, the figure shifted. As he raised his head, Tyler felt the world lurch beneath him.
Red eyes glared up at him — not from hatred, but from endless weeping. Trails of dried blood snaked from the corners, stark against the pale skin. The face, even in its brokenness, was unmistakably his own. But not the fierce, monstrous self he had imagined. This face was fragile, raw, as though it might collapse under the weight of its own sorrow.
The figure’s hands trembled around a battered photo frame. The glass was cracked, but Tyler recognized the image within instantly — a family photo. Milo stood at the centre, grinning widely, with Tyler’s arm looped around his shoulders. Their parents flanked them, faces soft with warmth and pride.
Tyler’s lips parted, words choking behind his teeth. “What… who… are you really?”
The other self lowered his gaze, voice barely a whisper. “You wanted your body back, right? Just take it. I don’t want to fight anymore. Please… just leave me here.”
He raised a shaking hand, and the curtains beside the bed slid open on their own. Through the window, Tyler could see the battlefield once more: Zephryn now tangled in more ethereal chains, her wings pinned and blood trailing from her beak; Kragg collapsed on one knee, axe buried in the ground for support; Nelly swaying, her hands scorched and trembling as she cast another weak flame.
Yandeon’s laughter boomed in the background, twisted and triumphant. “Yes! Die! Become my sacrifices! Witness my ascension!”
Tyler staggered, his fingers grasping for the windowsill. His nails scraped against the wood, breath rattling. He slammed the curtains shut, turning back to the figure in the corner.
“I… I don’t think I can win… not alone,” Tyler breathed. His voice trembled, each syllable shivering against the roaring silence.
The other self flinched, fingers tightening so hard around the photo frame that the glass creaked under the pressure. His eyes darted up, glaring bright red, then fell away again. “Don’t you think that I’m a monster? Why should I help you? Please, just leave. Please.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened. He took a shaky step forward, fists clenching at his sides. “Then tell me… why did you help me before? Why did you fight Thamutekh? Why did you save me when I was about to die? Who are you? What are you really?”
The other self recoiled further into the corner, pulling the photo frame against his chest as if to shield himself from Tyler’s voice. His lips parted, but no words came out—only shallow, ragged breaths that sounded almost like tiny sobs.
“ANSWER ME!” Tyler’s voice cracked, echoing through the broken room. The walls groaned in response, splinters raining down from the ceiling like brittle snow.
“Leave me alone…” the other self rasped, his head sinking. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to exist anymore… Just go. Take your body. Escape while you can.”
“I won’t leave!” Tyler shouted back, stepping closer even as the room swayed beneath his feet. His fingers clutched the edge of the overturned desk for balance. “I won’t leave until you answer me. Until I understand!”
The room shuddered violently, walls tilting so sharply that the shattered bed frame slid and crashed into the far corner. A heavy wardrobe teetered forward, creaking as it leaned into the air.
Tyler’s mind screamed at him to move, but his legs felt frozen, pinned by fear and grief that had haunted him since Milo’s last breath. In that instant, he realized — he was just as fragile as the boy in the corner.
The single hanging bulb above flickered like a dying star, shadows writhing across the walls like frantic phantoms.
The wardrobe began its deadly descent, splintered edges gleaming in the sickly light.
A rush of air, a deafening crack —
And in that heartbeat, everything went silent — as if the world itself had forgotten to breathe.