The Lazy Chronicles: Apartment of the Apocalypse-Chapter 123 - 124– Into the Unknown

A wave of energy surged forward as Mallory stepped through the Forgotten Gate, the golden light consuming everything in its path. For a moment, she felt weightless—adrift in an endless void, the fabric of reality shifting around her.

Then, the world snapped back into place.

She staggered forward, her boots hitting solid ground. The air was thick with a strange, almost metallic scent, and a cold wind brushed against her skin. As her vision adjusted, she took in their new surroundings.

They stood on a vast stone platform suspended in an abyss, surrounded by towering spires of black rock. The sky above was a swirling mixture of deep blues and purples, streaked with lightning that never quite struck the ground.

Behind her, the Forgotten Gate loomed, its surface still shimmering with golden light. But something was different—where once it had been open, it was now sealed shut.

Greg groaned. "Oh, great. Now we’re stuck in a nightmare dimension. Just fantastic."

Elara turned in a slow circle, scanning the area. "This place... it doesn’t feel real."

Quinn crouched, running his fingers along the stone platform. "It’s like it’s suspended between two realities. Neither fully here nor completely gone."

Alex frowned. "So, where exactly is here?"

A voice answered from the shadows.

"You stand at the edge of what was... and what could have been."

They whirled around, weapons drawn.

A figure emerged from the darkness—a woman draped in flowing robes, her face obscured by a silver mask. Her presence radiated an overwhelming sense of power, as if she existed outside the bounds of time itself.

Mallory tightened her grip on her dagger. "Who are you?"

The woman took a slow step forward. "I am the Guardian of the Rift. The Keeper of what remains."

Greg raised an eyebrow. "That sounds very ominous."

The Guardian tilted her head. "Perhaps. But I am not your enemy."

Mallory wasn’t convinced. "Then what is this place?"

The Guardian extended a hand, and suddenly, the abyss around them shifted. The air shimmered like rippling water, revealing fragments of different timelines, like shards of a broken mirror.

One image showed a ruined city, its buildings crumbling under an endless storm.

Another depicted a battlefield strewn with fallen warriors, the sky ablaze with an unnatural fire.

A third revealed a familiar figure—Mallory herself, but different. This version of her wore an expression of cold detachment, her eyes devoid of emotion as she stood atop a throne made of bones.

Mallory’s breath caught. "What... what is this?"

The Guardian’s voice was solemn. "These are the echoes of possibilities—paths you could have taken. Some lead to ruin. Others to power beyond comprehension."

Quinn narrowed his eyes. "So, this place shows us... alternate versions of our futures?"

The Guardian nodded. "Yes. And now that you have entered this realm, the choices you make will determine which future becomes reality."

Mallory swallowed hard. The idea that her actions could lead to such vastly different outcomes was unsettling. But there was no turning back now.

She steeled herself. "What do we have to do?"

The Guardian regarded her carefully. "To pass through the Rift, you must prove your will is stronger than fate itself."

Greg let out an exhausted sigh. "Oh, fantastic. Another trial."

The Guardian raised her hand, and the stone beneath them trembled. The air thickened with unseen energy, crackling with power.

"Your test begins now."

---

Trial of the Rift

A surge of golden light erupted from the platform, enveloping them completely. The world twisted, bending reality itself, until they were no longer standing together—but scattered across different visions.

Mallory blinked and found herself alone in a grand hall lined with mirrors. But instead of reflecting her current self, each mirror showed a different version of her—some younger, some older, some... monstrous.

One reflection, dressed in black armor, smirked at her. "You could have had everything," it whispered. "Power. Control. Why did you hold back?"

Mallory gritted her teeth. "Because power without purpose is meaningless."

The reflection’s smirk widened. "Then let’s see if you really believe that."

The mirror shattered, and the reflection stepped out, brandishing a blade identical to Mallory’s own.

Without warning, it attacked.

---

Meanwhile, Greg found himself in a much stranger situation. He stood in a dimly lit tavern, surrounded by familiar faces—but something was off.

The other Gregs at the tables were dressed differently, each one representing a different life he could have lived. One wore a scholar’s robes, another bore the armor of a knight, and yet another lounged in extravagant noble attire.

Tavern Greg leaned back and took a sip of ale. "So, which one of us do you think you really are?"

Greg scratched his head. "Uhh... I was kind of hoping you guys could tell me."

The Knight Greg snorted. "You joke, but the truth is, you’ve never truly known what you want. That’s why you’re here."

Greg opened his mouth to argue—then paused.

Because... they weren’t entirely wrong.

---

Elsewhere, Elara faced something far more personal. She stood before a single door, beyond which she could hear familiar voices—her family’s.

If she stepped through, she could return to them. A life without danger, without endless fights for survival.

But something inside her hesitated.

Was that really her path?

Her hand hovered over the door handle, her heart pounding.

Was she willing to give up everything she had fought for?

---

Breaking the Illusion

Back in the hall of mirrors, Mallory fought fiercely against her doppelgänger. Every move was matched perfectly, every strike countered. It was like fighting herself—because, in a way, she was.

Her other self sneered. "You hesitate. That’s why you’ll never win."

Mallory clenched her jaw. "I don’t hesitate. I choose."

She feinted to the left—then dropped low, sweeping her opponent’s legs out from under her.

As the reflection fell, its form cracked like glass. Mallory didn’t wait. She drove her blade forward, shattering it completely.

The illusion broke.

With a gasp, she was back on the stone platform.

One by one, the others reappeared, shaken but victorious.

Greg looked at his hands. "Did I just have an existential crisis? Because that felt a lot like an existential crisis."

Elara exhaled slowly. "It wasn’t just you."

The Guardian stood before them once more, her expression unreadable. "You have passed the test."

The ground trembled as the air shifted, and in the distance, a new path appeared—leading toward a towering obsidian door marked with glowing runes.

Mallory steadied herself. "That’s our way forward."

The Guardian nodded. "Beyond that door lies the true heart of the Rift. But be warned—the hardest choice still awaits you."

Mallory exchanged glances with the others.

They had come this far. There was no turning back now.

She took the first step toward the door.

Toward whatever lay beyond.

--- freewёbnoνel.com

The underground chamber was vast, stretching beyond what their torches could illuminate. Strange, glowing fungi sprouted from the walls, casting eerie shadows that danced with every movement. The cultists, still awestruck by Blinky’s "divine presence," led Mallory and the group through a winding series of tunnels deeper into the heart of the ruins.

Greg walked stiffly, his entire being radiating discomfort. "I still can’t believe Blinky is some kind of deity down here."

Elara smirked, watching as the cultists occasionally stole reverent glances at the gelatinous blob perched on Mallory’s shoulder. "Well, he did devour their sacred feast without dying. That’s a miracle in itself."

Blinky jiggled happily, oblivious to the weight of its newfound divine status.

Quinn glanced at their surroundings, hands resting near the hilt of his blade. "So, what exactly are we walking into?"

The lead cultist, still hooded, turned toward them. "The Oracle of Rust resides at the heart of the fallen city. She alone hears the whispers of time."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Whispers of time? That’s conveniently cryptic."

Mallory kept her focus ahead. The key to the Forgotten Gate burned in her pocket, as if sensing that they were nearing an answer. The Price of a Hero—that was the warning the merchant had given them. She had a feeling whatever they were about to learn wasn’t going to be good.

After a final turn, the tunnel opened up into an ancient cathedral-like chamber.

At the center, sitting atop a crumbling throne of rusted metal, was the Oracle of Rust.

She was unlike anything Mallory had expected.

The Oracle was skeletal, her body a fusion of metal and decayed flesh, as if time had eroded her humanity away. Copper wires coiled through her exposed bones like veins, and her hollow eye sockets gleamed with an unnatural blue light. She was ancient—not just old, but something outside of time itself.

The cultists dropped to their knees in unison. "Oracle, we bring seekers of the Forgotten Gate."

A long silence stretched. Then the Oracle’s jaw creaked open, a voice rasping out, dry as corroded metal.

"You carry the key to fate."

Mallory stepped forward, pulling the Forgotten Gate Key from her pocket. "We were told you could guide us."

The Oracle lifted a frail, rust-covered hand, beckoning her closer. "Come."

Mallory hesitated only briefly before stepping to the base of the throne. The Oracle’s skeletal fingers brushed the key, and the moment they made contact, the world around them changed.

---

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