The Lazy Chronicles: Apartment of the Apocalypse
Chapter 107 - 106

Chapter 107: Chapter 106

The Ruined City

Emerging from the underground passage, Mallory and her team found themselves at the edge of the Ruined City—a vast, decayed metropolis stretching toward the storm-ridden sky. Crumbling towers loomed overhead, their skeletal remains wrapped in creeping vines and flickering magical embers. The air smelled of rust, ozone, and ancient dust.

Greg took one look and sighed. "Why does everything we do look like a death trap?"

Quinn smirked. "Because it is a death trap."

Elara scanned the skyline. "If the Forgotten Gate is anywhere, it’s probably at the city’s core."

Alex adjusted his sword belt. "Then we should move fast. Places like this tend to have... residents."

As if summoned by his words, a distant, inhuman screech echoed through the ruins. Greg groaned. "WHY do you say things like that?"

Mallory ignored them, studying the faint golden light pulsing from the magic key in her hand. It tugged gently in a direction—north. "This way."

The group moved carefully through the broken streets, navigating around collapsed buildings and rusted-out vehicles. The city was eerily silent, except for the occasional distant crash of falling stone.

Then, as they turned a corner, they saw them.

The Forgotten Wraiths.

Dozens of shadowy, translucent figures drifted through the ruins. They had the faint shapes of former humans—elongated limbs, hollow eyes, and mouths twisted into silent screams. They didn’t walk so much as glide, their bodies phasing in and out of existence.

Greg immediately stepped back. "Nope. Nope. We are not dealing with haunted ghost people."

Mallory hushed him. "They haven’t noticed us yet."

Elara observed the wraiths. "They’re not attacking... almost like they don’t see us."

Quinn tapped his chin. "Or maybe they’re waiting."

Mallory nodded toward a half-collapsed bridge leading toward the city’s core. "Let’s move quietly. No sudden moves."

The group crept forward, each step careful on the loose rubble. Blinky, still glowing faintly, wobbled inside Mallory’s pack. Greg, clutching his crossbow, muttered prayers under his breath.

They almost made it.

Then Quinn stepped on a brittle skull. Crunch.

Every wraith within earshot snapped their heads toward them.

Greg paled. "We’re dead."

Then, in eerie unison, the wraiths let out a piercing, inhuman shriek.

The Chase

"RUN!" Mallory shouted.

The wraiths charged, gliding at unnatural speeds, their hollow eyes burning with malevolent light.

The team sprinted through the ruins, dodging collapsed debris and shattered statues. The wraiths phased through obstacles, closing the distance with horrifying speed.

"Any bright ideas?!" Greg yelled, loading a bolt into his crossbow.

Mallory’s mind raced. "We need to reach the Gate! The key is still pulling us north!"

Quinn flung a throwing knife at one of the wraiths. It passed through harmlessly. "Yeah, okay, weapons are useless!"

Alex grabbed a fallen lantern and hurled it. The flames flared as they struck a wraith, and for a brief moment, the creature recoiled.

Elara caught on immediately. "They hate fire!"

Greg wasted no time—he pulled out his flint, struck it against his crossbow bolt, and loosed the flaming projectile. It hit a wraith in the chest, and this time, it let out a horrible, echoing wail before dissolving.

The others followed suit—Alex grabbed a broken torch and set it ablaze, swinging wildly. Quinn lit his daggers with the same flame.

But the wraiths kept coming.

"Keep moving!" Mallory ordered.

The group sprinted toward a massive, partially buried cathedral, where the magic key pulsed brighter than ever.

A single, ancient door stood at the center of the ruin, its surface carved with glowing golden runes—the same symbol as on the key.

"The Forgotten Gate!" Mallory shouted.

Greg, panting, looked back. "Uh, problem! We are STILL being chased!"

Mallory didn’t hesitate—she slammed the key into the lock. The runes flared to life.

The ground trembled.

With a deep, thunderous groan, the cathedral door split open. A rush of golden light exploded outward, washing over the wraiths.

For a moment, they screamed, their forms warping—and then they simply... vanished.

Silence.

Greg, gasping for breath, collapsed onto the ground. "I swear... if this door leads to another terrible place, I will riot."

Quinn peered inside. "Oh, it’s terrible, alright."

Mallory looked through the open gate and froze.

Beyond the threshold was nothing.

A vast, endless void stretched before them—no sky, no ground, just an infinite, golden expanse.

At the center of it all, floating in the void... was a single pedestal. And atop it, a sword.

Not just any sword.

A massive, ancient weapon embedded in stone, radiating raw power. The Blade of Heroes.

The moment Mallory laid eyes on it, a voice echoed through the void.

"The Price must be paid."

Her heart clenched. She already knew.

The Price of a Hero... was sacrifice.

Alex, frowning, stepped closer. "What kind of price are we talking about here?"

The voice whispered again.

"To take up the Blade, one must surrender the past."

Mallory’s chest tightened. She understood now. Whoever wielded the sword... would lose something—a part of themselves.

Their memories. Their identity. Their humanity.

Greg paled. "Okay. This is a very big decision. Maybe we should think about this—"

Before he could finish, the ground beneath them shifted.

The door behind them slammed shut.

And suddenly, the void was collapsing.

Mallory gritted her teeth. They had to choose.

Would they take the Blade of Heroes... or turn back?

The answer would decide everything.

___________________________&&&_

Mallory’s pulse pounded as the void collapsed around them. The walls of golden light shrunk inward, swallowing the edges of the stone platform they stood on.

The Blade of Heroes stood just ahead, pulsing with an ancient, undeniable power. The voice echoed once more, reverberating in the very air around them.

"To claim the Blade, one must surrender the past."

Mallory clenched her fists. What did that mean, exactly? Would she forget who she was? Lose her memories? Something worse?

Greg backed away from the shrinking edge of the void. "Okay, so, hypothetically, what happens if we don’t grab the sword?"

The voice did not answer. Instead, the golden light flared—and suddenly, from the collapsing void, they emerged.

Shadows. Figures of warriors past.

They wore broken armor, wielded rusted weapons, and their eyes burned with the same golden light as the sword. There were dozens of them, standing motionless at the void’s edge, waiting.

Alex tensed. "I don’t think they’re here to chat."

Quinn pulled out his daggers. "Nope."

Elara’s gaze flicked between the blade and the approaching warriors. "I think we’ve got a ticking clock on this decision."

Greg threw up his hands. "Oh, sure, no pressure at all!"

Mallory took a deep breath. If she took the Blade of Heroes, it could change everything. But if she didn’t, they might not survive this.

Her mind raced. What had the Oracle of Rust told them before?

"The Forgotten Gate hides not just a weapon, but a burden."

"Some wield it and become legends. Others are swallowed by the cost."

"The blade does not choose a hero. The hero chooses the blade."

Her fingers twitched. She could feel the pull of it—like it was calling to her.

The golden warriors moved.

In an instant, they charged, weapons raised.

"Mallory!" Greg shouted.

She had no time left.

She ran for the blade.

The Price of a Hero

The moment her fingers wrapped around the hilt, everything changed.

A shockwave exploded outward. The golden warriors froze, their bodies flickering. The void halted its collapse.

And then—pain.

White-hot agony lanced through Mallory’s skull as the sword’s power poured into her. Visions flashed in her mind—a thousand battles, a hundred lifetimes, warriors who had held this blade before her.

She saw kings and queens, fallen champions, nameless wanderers—all who had wielded the blade, all who had paid the price.

And then she saw herself.

Or rather... pieces of herself.

Her childhood memories, her family’s faces, the first time she had ever fought back against the world—one by one, they faded.

"No—" Mallory gasped, trying to hold onto them. But they slipped away, dissolving like sand in the wind.

The Blade of Heroes did not just take memories.

It took who she was.

A piece of her vanished.

The Awakening

When Mallory opened her eyes, she was different.

The sword in her hands was no longer rusted and ancient. It shone, glowing with the same golden light as the gate itself. The moment she lifted it, the golden warriors surrounding them knelt.

Greg, Elara, Alex, and Quinn all stared at her.

Greg took a cautious step forward. "M-Mallory?"

She blinked. His voice was familiar, but... there was a strange emptiness inside her.

What had she forgotten?

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. They had to move.

"The gate," she said, her voice steadier than she expected. "It’s open."

The others turned. Behind them, where the void had been, the ruins of the cathedral shifted. The air rippled, and suddenly, a new pathway had appeared.

A bridge of golden light leading deeper into the unknown.

Quinn exhaled. "Well. That’s new."

Alex glanced at Mallory. "Are you... okay?"

Mallory looked down at the sword in her hands.

She should have been terrified by what she had lost. But strangely, she felt... calm.

More than that.

She felt ready.

"We move forward," she said. "No looking back."

Greg rubbed his temples. "Yeah, great, that’s not at all concerning to hear from someone who just had their soul edited like a bad novel."

Elara elbowed him. "We don’t have time for hesitation."

Mallory turned toward the new path. The blade in her hand hummed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt certain.

Whatever lay ahead, she would face it.

No matter the cost.