SCT-Novel Chapter 108: Alone
Chapter 108: Alone
The gate sealed behind them with a sound like grinding stone. Dante watched his team walk away, seven figures moving through Floor 17’s twilight forest with formations that were tight despite missing their leader. Astrid took point because her berserker instincts read the terrain for threats while Ren anchored the rear, his massive shield catching what little light filtered through the canopy. Between them walked the others—Vex with his magitech eye scanning constantly, Ravenna moving like smoke through the shadows, and Leon and Sera maintaining their cautious distance. They were good, they were ready, and the hardest pill to swallow was that they didn’t need him for this.
He stood in the shadow of an ancient tree until they vanished around a bend and the sound of Ren’s heavy footsteps faded into the forest’s ambient whispers.
’They’ll be fine,’ he thought, the idea carrying more hope than certainty, but he forced himself to believe it. ’They handled Floor 16 without me calling every shot so they can handle 17.’
The forest stretched before him, trees so old their bark had turned to something like stone with branches interlocking overhead to create a perpetual twilight. Most climbers would follow the main paths marked by previous expeditions that led safely toward the floor gate, but he turned away from those routes. The hidden path existed only in his memory as a crack in the terrain most would dismiss as a dead end, located exactly where his regression knowledge said it would be—a gap between two fallen trees barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
Beyond that gap, the world changed. The Crystalline Wastes began where the forest ended, Dante emerging from the treeline into a landscape that stole his breath despite seeing it in his previous life. Crystal formations rose from the ground like frozen lightning, some stretching hundreds of feet into a sky that scattered sunlight into permanent rainbows, while the ground beneath his feet crunched with crystalline debris. It was beautiful, deadly, and utterly empty.
’No team behind me.’ He started walking, picking a path through the formations that only his memories could identify. ’No Astrid complaining about the terrain, no Ren asking if we should rest, and no Vex calculating odds I don’t want to hear.’
The silence pressed against him like a physical weight. In the original timeline, he spent years climbing solo after Floor 52, living in silence where he made every decision alone and ultimately grew comfortable with the isolation. It had become armor against the pain of losing people, but now that armor felt strange and ill-fitting, like wearing clothes that used to be comfortable but no longer matched his shape.
’Two months.’ He ducked under a low-hanging crystal sharp enough to cut steel. ’Two months of relying on others and I already forgot how to be alone.’
He hadn’t forgotten, he realized. He had just learned that he didn’t have to be.
The first day’s travel covered more ground than he expected since he didn’t have a team to pace for. He moved at speeds that would have exhausted a normal party, his enhanced body handling the terrain with ease thanks to his Ancient Core. By the time the crystalline sun began its descent, he had covered nearly thirty miles.
’Good progress.’ He found a sheltered hollow between two massive formations to hide his campfire. ’Three days to the dungeon entrance at this pace, maybe less.’
He gathered dried vegetation that had somehow survived among the crystals and built a small, efficient fire more for comfort than warmth, then sat as the silence returned.
’This is what I wanted.’ He stared into the flames watching light dance across crystalline walls. ’Freedom to move fast, to take risks, to chase the power waiting at the end of this path without anyone to protect or slow me down.’
The thoughts sounded hollow even in his own head.
He thought about Ravenna and the way she looked at him before he left—not angry, since she understood necessity, but hurt in a way she tried to hide. The private conversation they shared before his departure replayed in his memory:
"Come back to me," she had whispered. "Whatever you find in that dungeon, whatever power you’re chasing, it means nothing if you don’t come back."
"I’ll come back."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
He meant it then and he meant it now, but the Tower didn’t care about promises or the people who made them.
’Eclipse,’ he thought, the word surfacing from regression memories. ’The blade that waits at the end of this path. An Ego weapon that’s survived since before the Tower existed.’
If he could claim it, everything changed. He would gain the power to cut through anything, to sever connections that should be unbreakable, and a partner that would never die or betray him. It was worth the risk, worth the isolation, and worth the weight of silence pressing against him.
He finished his meal and labored into his bedroll to stare at the formations catching the last light. ’Tomorrow I reach Stalker territory. The day after, the Refraction Maze. Then the dungeon.’
Sleep came slowly, bringing dreams of the team—not the nightmares where everyone died screaming, but normal moments like Astrid arguing with Vex or Sera healing wounds. Ravenna was always at the edge of his awareness in these dreams, her mismatched eyes finding his.
’You’re doing it again,’ her dream-voice said, amused. ’Running away and calling it strategy.’
’I’m not running away. I’m running toward something.’
’Is there a difference?’
He woke before dawn as the dream faded like mist. ’Yes.’ He packed his gear with mechanical efficiency. ’There’s a difference. Running away means you’re afraid of what’s behind you, but running toward means you’re willing to face what’s ahead.’
He wasn’t afraid of his team; he loved them in that complicated way trauma survivors loved those who stayed, but love wasn’t enough to survive the Archon. Power was, and Eclipse would give him that power.
He shouldered his pack and started walking. The second day was harder mentally, the isolation wearing on him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He caught himself looking over his shoulder for people who weren’t there or signaling warnings to empty air.
’Muscle memory.’ He forced his attention forward. ’Two months of teamwork overwrote eight years of solo climbing. It’ll fade.’
But it didn’t feel like muscle memory; it felt like loss.
The crystal formations grew larger as he traveled, spires rising hundreds of feet into the air with light scattering in shifting patterns that made navigation difficult for anyone without his knowledge. He had the knowledge, but he also had time to think.
’What happens after Eclipse?’ The question surfaced unbidden. ’Claim the weapon, return to the team... but then what? At what point does the power I’m gaining become enough?’
Never, came the honest answer. The power would never be enough because the Archon existed outside the rules, and defeating it meant transcending those rules or dying in the attempt. He had made peace with that possibility long ago, but now dying meant leaving behind people who would mourn him.
’Sentimentality,’ he thought, the word carrying echoes of his old self. ’Weakness disguised as connection. Get the weapon, get stronger. Everything else is secondary.’
Except it wasn’t, and he knew it. Somewhere behind him, Ravenna was climbing toward Floor 18, Astrid was picking fights, and Ren was protecting everyone. They were living, breathing, and trusting that he would come back, so he wouldn’t let them down.
He made camp earlier on the second day in a position offering clear sightlines. Stalker territory began a few miles ahead, and his regression memories painted the dangers in vivid detail—creatures that existed between visibility and invisibility.
’Stalkers,’ he thought, checking his weapon’s edges. ’Ambush specialists against a solo target. No healer to patch me up, no tank to draw aggro, just me.’
The old Dante would have called that freedom, but the current Dante recognized it as risk. Yet the reward justified it because Eclipse waited at the end of this path. He ate his meal in silence, watching the sunset paint the wastes in colors that had no names.
’Three more days.’ The thought was almost a prayer. ’Three more days alone.’
Then he’d find out if the weapon would accept him, if the power was worth the cost, and if everything would change. He didn’t sleep well that night, though he didn’t really expect to.