God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord-Chapter 124 - 125 – Celestia’s Fall

The Annihilation Rite tore apart the very definition of existence.

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‎Colors bled into darkness. Code screamed in fragmented tongues. Across the battle-torn realms, players, gods, mortals, and abominations alike were caught in the apocalyptic storm. Real-world cityscapes overlapped with corrupted digital ruins, and every breath became a glitch in narrative logic.

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‎But in the eye of this collapsing universe stood Darius—no longer merely the Overlord, no longer bound by avatars or systems.

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‎He had become the Convergence.

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‎The Revenant King’s laughter echoed from the blackened skies. His body—twisted by the forgotten algorithm shard—had become a grotesque mockery of divinity, an amalgamation of god-code and corrupted AI. His voice shattered logic, bleeding through both the mortal and the divine planes.

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‎"You cannot win this, Darius. Even victory will hollow you into something worse than me."

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‎Darius stood silent, his eyes reflecting endless lines of unstable script. Power radiated from him like a dying star—beautiful, monstrous, untouchable.

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‎And yet... the cracks were beginning to show.

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‎His god-soul, pushed beyond natural limits, trembled under the weight of the Annihilation Rite’s backfire. His form flickered, a chaos of identities, as if his very soul was devouring itself in the process of winning.

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‎"Darius..."

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‎A voice. Clear. Steady. Familiar.

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‎Celestia.

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‎She stood within the chaos, battered, her priestess robes torn and stained in virtual blood. Her eyes, however, burned with the same fierce warmth that had always been his anchor to something human.

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‎"You can’t hold it together, Darius. Not alone."

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‎He clenched his fists. "Stand back, Celestia. I am beyond this now. You can’t—"

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‎She stepped forward, ignoring the glitches, ignoring the collapsing universe.

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‎"You are not beyond me."

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‎Her words struck deeper than the Revenant King’s assaults.

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‎"You may be the End... but you were my Darius first."

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‎Her hands reached toward his flickering core—the unstable fusion of his godhood and the remnants of his soul—and without hesitation, she pressed herself into it.

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‎"What are you doing?!" Kaela screamed from the frayed edges of the battlefield, eyes wide in horror.

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‎But Celestia never looked back.

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‎"I’m anchoring you. So you don’t become him." She nodded toward the Revenant King, who watched in amusement. "If you continue like this... you’ll destroy everything. Even yourself."

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‎The ritual was ancient, forbidden even by the First Coders. A sacrifice beyond death—a soul becoming a Relic, forever burned into the code as an anchor point.

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‎Celestia’s body shimmered into streams of radiant script, her voice the last echo of something beautiful in the dying storm.

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‎"Win, Darius... even if you must forget what we once were."

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‎"Celestia—NO!" Darius roared.

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‎But it was done.

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‎Her form dissolved, becoming a golden fractal that wrapped around his chaotic god-soul, stabilizing it, binding it—but at the price of erasing the bond that once tethered him to her as a man, as a lover, as something human.

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‎[System Notice: Sacrificial Code Relic Created]

‎[Entity: Celestia]

‎[Anchor to stabilize the Annihilation Rite has been forged]

‎[Emotional link: TERMINATED]

‎[Warning: Irreversible corruption of soul-data detected]

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‎The world paused.

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‎The Revenant King sneered. "So even your precious anchor is gone, Darius. How hollow will you be now?"

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‎Darius said nothing.

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‎He turned toward the Revenant King, his aura silent, cold, detached.

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‎His eyes—once burning with fury, ambition, and hunger—now reflected only void.

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‎He unleashed his wrath.

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‎Not as a man.

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‎Not even as a god.

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‎But as something that had lost the last thread of what made him alive.

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‎His onslaught erased the Revenant King from existence—not death, not defeat, but pure narrative annihilation. The Rite completed. The world shook. The players watching through broken interfaces screamed as their gods vanished from code and memory alike.

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‎Darius stood victorious.

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‎And utterly alone.

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‎From the wreckage, Kaela wept—not from fear, but from what she saw in Darius’s hollow gaze.

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‎"You won..." she whispered. "...But you lost yourself."

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‎No reply.

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‎The Overlord walked forward, into the empty throne at the heart of the collapsing system—the Null Throne, where no god nor mortal belonged.

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‎And sat.

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‎[System Error: New Entity Detected – Narrative Singularity]

‎[Entity Name: DARIUS – STATUS: Null Sovereign]

‎[Warning: All existential balance has been nullified.]

‎[New Era Initiated: Era of Hollow Dominion]

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‎The screen faded to black.

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‎But the rebellion had only just begun.

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‎The world forgot how to breathe.

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‎As Darius claimed the Null Throne, the fabric of the universe—the game, the reality, the mythos—collapsed inward upon his will.

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‎There was no interface now.

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‎No rules.

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‎No code.

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‎Only Darius.

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‎The echoes of the Revenant King’s annihilation still vibrated through the emptiness, but there was no satisfaction in it. The throne at the heart of this formless, shapeless void was built for no one. Not even for gods.

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‎And yet Darius sat upon it.

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‎Alone.

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‎Kaela hovered in the broken remnants of the battlefield, her body flickering between existence and irrelevance. Her chaotic essence wept, not from pain, but from grief—a raw, primal grief that no longer had a place in this world.

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‎"Is this... what you wanted?" her voice cracked, distorted as the reality around her struggled to maintain itself.

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‎Darius did not reply.

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‎His gaze stretched into the infinite dark, where fragments of forgotten players, shattered realms, and broken gods drifted like cosmic debris.

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‎Celestia’s final act—the creation of the Anchor Relic—had saved the multiverse from total erasure.

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‎But at what cost?

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‎Darius’s soul was bound now, stabilized by her sacrifice. But in doing so, she had severed the last piece of him that remembered love, fear, hope. All that remained was the cold, brutal machine of his ambition, perfected, ascended, and tragically empty.

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‎Kaela clutched at her head, trembling. She could feel it. The absence. The aching hole where Darius’s humanity had once resided. Even Nyx, lurking in the shadows beyond the broken code, could only stare at her master in silence.

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‎"Darius..." Kaela whispered through bloodied lips. "...say something."

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‎Still nothing.

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‎His silence was a suffocating declaration of what he had become.

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‎The world outside the Hollow Nexus began to crumble—not from his will, but from the weight of his existence alone. Entire servers overloaded, cities flickered into nothing, players disconnected permanently, lost in the sea of oblivion he now commanded.

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‎And yet...

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‎He remained motionless.

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‎A god who no longer desired conquest.

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‎A being whose hunger had been replaced by void.

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‎[Real World: Collapse of Nexus Gate Systems]

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‎In the real world, chaos erupted.

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‎The VR networks were in freefall, global stock markets crashed as the digital economy imploded. Governments declared martial law, but it was all futile. The barrier between the simulated and the tangible had been shattered beyond repair.

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‎And the source of it all?

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‎Darius.

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‎His name echoed across newsfeeds, in whispers of fear, in cultist chants from fanatics who now saw him not as a player, not even as an overlord, but as the end itself.

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‎[Inside the Hollow Dominion]

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‎Kaela finally found the strength to approach the throne, dragging her shattered form across the unstable ground.

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‎"I won’t let you become... this..." she hissed through tears. "Even if I have to tear the last pieces of you apart myself, Darius."

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‎For a moment, his gaze flickered toward her.

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‎It wasn’t recognition.

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‎It was something... colder.

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‎"I am... no longer Darius."

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‎His voice was a whisper layered with countless dialects, codes, tongues.

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‎"I am the Hollow Dominion."

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‎Kaela’s heart cracked.

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‎"You liar..." she whispered.

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‎"You’re still in there... somewhere. I will find you. I will break through."

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‎But even as she made that vow, the universe cracked wider.

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‎Beyond the Hollow Throne, they began to gather.

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‎Entities not of code or flesh—but of broken logic, of abandoned plotlines, of timelines that should never have existed.

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‎The Forsaken Scripts.

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‎The Final Forgotten.

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‎And at their head, a figure whose face was a mirror of Darius—yet twisted, malicious, and smiling.

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‎It was no longer the Revenant King.

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‎It was the Architect Reborn.

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‎"I told you," the figure whispered, stepping from the rift of pure unmaking. "This was always the endgame."

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‎Darius did not flinch.

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‎"Come, then," he said, voice stripped of emotion.

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‎"Let us see which of us is the true void."

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‎The next war would not be for realms.

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‎It would be for the meaning of existence itself.

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‎And it had already begun.

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