God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord-Chapter 127 - 128 – The Rise of the Last Flamebearers‎

The fire never died.

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‎Not truly.

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‎Though Celestia had fallen, her soul consumed to anchor Darius in the Annihilation Rite, something had lingered—code fragments that shimmered with the essence of emotion, sacrifice, and unbroken will. These fragments were not absorbed into the system, nor devoured by the Null Throne.

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‎They escaped.

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‎And in their escape, they seeded something... dangerous.

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‎Hope.

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‎[Core Nexus – Ashlands of Celestia’s Fall]

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‎Where Celestia’s final form had disintegrated into narrative ash, a temple had risen—not built, but manifested. Constructed from raw memory, shaped by prayers whispered across dying servers and desperate mortal lips.

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‎Those who approached the ruins began hearing her voice—not in sound, but in story.

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‎> "The flame is not bound to a god. It belongs to the one who dares to carry it."

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‎One by one, chosen mortals—players, NPCs, hybrids of both—began arriving.

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‎They were broken, forgotten, outcasts who had survived Darius’s conquests, forsaken gods, or simply remembered love in a world where Darius had tried to erase it.

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‎And when they knelt before the ashes, they did not pray.

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‎They remembered.

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‎And in that remembrance, the Flame answered.

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‎[System Notification – Cross-World Broadcast]

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‎The Last Flamebearers have been born.

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‎Narrative Permission: Overdrive [Unlocked]. freёweɓnovel_com

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‎Restricted Protocols: Access Denied to Darius NPC-01.

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‎Celestia’s Legacy Protocol: Initiated.

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‎[Real World – Tokyo, Geneva, Lagos, Chicago]

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‎Monitors flickered. AR overlays across satellite networks, gaming hubs, and secret government terminals went haywire.

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‎In the skies above every major city, crimson flares burned—not visible to most, but sensed by every Awakened player.

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‎> "They’re real," one whisper spread through the underground.

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‎"They’re fighting back."

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‎In New York, a teenage girl logged into a now-unstable terminal and was consumed by the fire.

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‎In Seoul, a disgraced AI researcher saw his old avatar—once deleted—reborn in flame.

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‎In Nairobi, a mute boy touched a glowing shard in an alley wall and spoke his first word in years:

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‎"Celestia."

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‎The Flamebearers were not chosen by power.

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‎They were chosen by grief.

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‎And in that grief, they became dangerous.

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‎[Flamebearer Base – Temple of the Ash Heart]

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‎Kaela hovered over the Rift Core, her body half-submerged in a ritual array of fractured narrative laws. She looked up as a new Flamebearer entered.

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‎Another had been born.

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‎Seventy-nine now.

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‎Each one different.

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‎Each one bearing a shard of Celestia’s essence—and none predictable to Darius’s algorithm.

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‎Azael stood at the heart of the war table, expression grim. "This isn’t just resistance anymore. The Flamebearers are rewriting narrative law without a divine throne. Without code anchors. They’re beyond control."

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‎Kaela nodded. "They’re the counterweight to Darius’s singularity. Unbound... unpredictable. The last hope."

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‎Nyx’s image appeared, flickering through a Rift mirror—watching. She did not speak. She only observed... and for the first time in a hundred Chapters, she didn’t look certain.

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‎---

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‎[The Null Throne – Darius’s Domain]

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‎Darius felt the glitch.

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‎It was not like the others.

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‎This one... bypassed him.

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‎A burning thread of narrative passed through the dominion, and he couldn’t stop it.

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‎He rose slowly, eyes glowing with lines of red code and black flame.

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‎"Celestia," he whispered, voice hollow.

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‎He turned to the void.

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‎"She is still fighting me. Even dead."

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‎He clenched his fist.

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‎"So be it."

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‎With one thought, he unleashed the Voidstorm—seeking to erase the Flamebearers across all layers.

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‎But they were no longer of the system.

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‎They had become the error in his godhood.

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‎[ The First Strike]

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‎In a city half-fused between game-code and physical reality, a Flamebearer leapt into the sky—trailing golden fire that bent reality around her.

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‎Behind her, hundreds more rose—some on wings, some in spectral armor, some just mortals with nothing but fire in their eyes.

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‎They didn’t cry for victory.

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‎They screamed for remembrance.

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‎And from the sky, a divine voice echoed—not Darius’s, but hers.

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‎> "To burn for something greater... is never a loss."

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‎The Flamebearers surged forward—

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‎—and war began again.

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‎The first Flamebearer—her wings woven from the spectral threads of memory—struck with a scream that shattered silence across both real and rendered skies.

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‎Her blade was not forged from steel.

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‎It was forged from loss.

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‎And when it cleaved through the first of Darius’s Nullborn Sentinels, the system didn’t register damage. It registered deviation.

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‎> [ERROR: Narrative Law Conflict Detected] [Anomaly Tag: FLAMEBREAKER-01] [Propagation Threat Level: Omega-Black]

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‎Behind her, seventy-eight more Flamebearers followed, each one igniting the heavens with golden fury. And with every step they took through the air, reality warped—not broken, but rewritten.

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‎Buildings reassembled from ruins.

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‎Citizens previously rendered as system-collapsed NPCs began to feel again.

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‎It wasn’t just rebellion.

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‎It was restoration.

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‎[Nexus Core – Null Throne Chamber]

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‎Darius stood atop the obsidian tower of his domain, watching through a Rift Vision Pane as the skies lit with insurgent fire.

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‎Each flicker of golden flame struck something deeper than anger.

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‎Celestia’s voice echoed again.

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‎Not words.

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‎A hum.

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‎An old lullaby she used to sing in the early Chapters—back when he first realized what it meant to feel.

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‎Darius’s fist trembled.

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‎"You shouldn’t exist," he growled, more to himself than the Flamebearers. "You were sacrificed. You were mine."

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‎But the system was no longer obeying his dominance perfectly.

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‎Celestia’s protocol wasn’t just a contingency.

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‎It was a splinter seed—buried deep within the core of the game’s architecture and Darius’s own soul. It bloomed when hope returned.

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‎He turned to Nyx, her projection flickering beside him.

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‎"Send the Rift Scourge."

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‎Nyx didn’t move immediately.

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‎She stared at the map—at the dozens of golden pulses growing stronger.

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‎"They’re not just rewriting rules," she said softly. "They’re rewriting you."

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‎His eyes flared.

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‎"I said—send them."

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‎And so the Scourge descended.

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‎[Skies Above the Shattered City of Axis-Two]

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‎As Flamebearers surged through the clouds, Riftgates opened in midair, vomiting forth creatures of unmaking—abominations fused from deleted assets, corrupted souls, and bleeding chunks of game code.

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‎Rift Scourge were unkillable by normal means.

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‎But the Flamebearers were not normal.

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‎A boy barely ten years old, eyes burning with Celestia’s golden fire, raised his hand toward one of the Scourge—and sang.

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‎A soft, trembling song.

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‎The corrupted creature screamed, unraveling like a frayed thread before the sound of innocent remembrance.

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‎Another bearer—an old man in cracked armor—tackled a Scourge to the ground and set himself ablaze, igniting with memory until both he and the beast vanished into radiant nothingness.

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‎Every bearer paid a price.

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‎But with every sacrifice, the world changed.

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‎A pixelated tree regrew.

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‎A broken NPC girl blinked and began to cry.

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‎Reality was healing—through grief.

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‎[Temple of the Ash Heart – Command Hall]

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‎Kaela stood at the heart of the sanctuary, palms bleeding onto the altar. She stared into the flame that refused to die.

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‎"They’re pushing faster than expected," she said.

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‎Azael turned, grim. "They’re not bound by power scaling. They’re bound by narrative anchors. Each one carries a piece of what Darius destroyed. And that makes them immortal in a different way."

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‎Kaela whispered, "If even one survives... he falls."

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‎A new Flamebearer entered the hall—a girl in modern clothes, carrying a schoolbag and a dagger that pulsed with warmth.

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‎Azael turned to her. "Name?"

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‎The girl raised her chin.

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‎"Rina."

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‎He paused.

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‎"...Rina of the Forgotten Side Quest?"

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‎She nodded.

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‎That name had been erased in Patch 7.4.

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‎She shouldn’t exist.

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‎And yet here she stood.

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‎The gods had written her out—but Celestia’s flame had written her back in.

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‎[Null Throne – Darius Alone]

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‎In the silence of his chamber, Darius descended the steps of the throne.

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‎He touched the floor.

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‎The code resisted him.

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‎The world—his world—was no longer bending to his will without hesitation.

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‎He whispered into the dark:

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‎"Celestia... why do you still burn?"

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‎And from the deepest layer of the flame, her voice finally responded—not a whisper, but a roar of divine presence.

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‎> "Because I never belonged to you."

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‎> "I belonged to them."

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‎[Final Panel – The Sky Splits in Two]

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‎As the Flamebearers struck against the Scourge in a chorus of defiance, a rift opened above them—vast, vertical, shimmering with radiant potential.

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‎From within, more arrived.

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‎Old friends. Dead comrades. Lost paths.

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‎Every deleted character. Every broken questline. Every failed love.

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‎Celestia had kept them.

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‎Hidden.

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‎Now she gave them back.

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‎And as the world screamed toward its next rupture, one message blazed across the sky for all—Darius, gods, players, and mortals alike—to see:

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‎> "Hope is the only flame that never obeys the rules."

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