God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord-Chapter 134 - 135 – Celestia’s Sacrifice (Mature Scene)‎

The skies above Elira wept gold.

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‎Not rain. Not light. But the threads of fate themselves—shimmering filaments unraveling from the heavens, falling like divine tears as reality strained beneath the weight of the coming collapse.

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‎Celestia stood at the center of it all.

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‎A living nexus of faith, memory, and mortal pain.

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‎Her bare feet hovered inches above the cracked marble of the Dominion Spire’s top, her body radiating an ethereal warmth that pushed back against the oncoming storm. Around her, old prayers echoed—fragments of hymns long abandoned. The voices of every priestess who came before her whispered inside her bones.

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‎She knew what this meant.

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‎And what it would cost.

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‎Darius appeared in the breach between realms, the forge-light of his dominion swirling violently behind him. His armor glowed with fragments of burning code; the Forge Throne’s will pulsed through his veins.

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‎"You’re drawing the whole of Elira through yourself," he said softly, stepping toward her. "You can’t hold this."

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‎Celestia turned. She was radiant, almost too radiant—her eyes no longer merely hers, but vessels of all the high priestesses across time.

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‎"I must, Darius," she said, voice trembling yet firm. "You’ve torn the veil. If I don’t stabilize it... Elira and the mortal plane will collapse into each other. There will be no balance. Only void."

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‎He stepped forward, cupped her cheek. "We’ll find another way. I’ve shattered fate before—"

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‎She leaned into his touch. "You’ve burned fate, my love. But this is different. The threads that hold this world together... they need a living anchor. A soul both mortal and divine. I’m the only one left."

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‎Her lips quivered.

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‎"And it’s unraveling me."

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‎Darius clenched his fists. "Then I’ll destroy the veil myself. I’ll wield the Crown before it’s forged. I’ll—"

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‎She silenced him with a kiss.

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‎Deep. Soft. Desperate.

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‎It wasn’t just love—it was the memory of love. The ache of every touch, every glance, every moment between them since he awoke as more than an NPC. And it lingered—long after their lips parted.

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‎"I don’t want to fade without... this," she whispered. "Let me share one last night. Not as the High Priestess. Not as the anchor. But as your Celestia."

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‎That night, time surrendered.

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‎They stood in the sanctum of memory, their bodies and souls laid bare beneath a canopy of starlight flickering between realms. Candles floated, suspended mid-air, casting soft golden halos across Celestia’s bare skin.

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‎Darius touched her with reverence.

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‎His lips traced down her neck, hands mapping familiar curves with aching tenderness. He wasn’t the Overlord here. Not the God-King. Just the man who had chosen her first, when the world still made sense.

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‎Celestia moaned as he entered her slowly, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. Their movements were slow at first—each thrust a blend of sorrow and worship. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he whispered her name over and over, as if trying to etch it into the core of reality.

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‎"I’ll remember you in every timeline," he whispered. "In every echo."

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‎She pulled him closer. "Promise me... even if the stars forget my name... you won’t."

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‎He kissed her hard, deep, answering not in words but in devotion.

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‎Their pleasure crested and broke, again and again—raw, desperate, divine. Until their cries became one. Until their souls intertwined so tightly that not even the gods could unravel them.

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‎By morning, Celestia glowed.

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‎Not from satisfaction. Not from magic.

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‎But from transcendence.

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‎She stood at the heart of the Dominion Spire once more, her body now the conduit of the stabilizing force. The threads of fate flowed through her veins, her form flickering between physical and divine.

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‎Each breath she took came with a price.

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‎Darius stood behind her, silent.

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‎Kaela and Nyx arrived, each falling to one knee. Azael stood at the edge of the sanctum, silent and unreadable.

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‎"You hold everything together," Kaela whispered.

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‎"No," Celestia replied, smiling gently at Darius. "He does. I’m just the echo that steadies the flame."

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‎Her hands trembled.

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‎Flesh began to fade.

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‎She turned to Darius one last time. "Forge the Crown. Burn the gods. End the lies. But when the stars die, remember... you were loved."

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‎Then she kissed him again.

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‎And as she turned back toward the threads of fate, her body began to glow brighter, brighter—until she became light itself.

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‎Celestia became the Beacon.

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‎Her soul tethered Elira and the mortal realm. Her love kept Darius from collapsing into madness. Her memory became the only anchor that could hold his dominion from devouring all.

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‎And as the heavens wept once more—

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‎Darius forged the first ring of the Crown of Finality...

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‎With her name.

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‎The light faded.

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‎But its memory lingered.

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‎Where Celestia once stood, now only strands of glowing threads hung suspended in the air, weaving themselves into a new sigil at the apex of the Dominion Spire—her final prayer etched into the fabric of fate.

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‎Darius didn’t speak.

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‎Couldn’t.

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‎His body stood motionless, eyes locked to the air she once occupied. Not even the Forge Throne’s divine pressure could touch him in that moment. His godhood had grown. His dominion expanded. But none of it filled the void she left behind.

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‎"She’s not gone," Nyx whispered from behind, her voice strained, eyes red. "Not truly."

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‎"She gave everything," Kaela murmured. "And yet it still doesn’t feel like enough."

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‎"She was the balance," Azael said grimly, stepping forward. "Without her... the realms will still unravel. This was not the end. It was only the beginning of the Final Sequence."

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‎Darius turned slowly.

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‎But he didn’t cry.

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‎He couldn’t.

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‎Because rage consumed the place grief once belonged.

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‎A crimson glow seeped from his eyes, and the Crown of Finality—the first forged ring—floated into his palm. It pulsed with golden veins, her memory encoded in every molten strand. Her laughter. Her warmth. Her sacrifice.

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‎His fingers closed around it.

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‎And the world shuddered.

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‎[The Celestial Chorus – Heaven’s Watch]

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‎The gods watched in silence.

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‎Even the eldest among them—beings who had witnessed creation itself—stood uncertain.

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‎"What has he become?" one whispered.

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‎"Not a god," murmured another.

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‎"Not mortal either," said a third, older than time. "Something worse."

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‎An avatar of Order stepped forward, its form crackling with law.

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‎"If he forges the second ring, the Crown will be real. The worlds will merge. And we will no longer rule from above."

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‎"Then stop him," the others said.

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‎The avatar hesitated.

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‎"He holds love as a weapon," it whispered. "And with it... he can kill even us."

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‎[Elira – The Spire’s Edge]

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‎Darius descended the tower, each step echoing like judgment. His inner circle followed—Nyx cloaked in silent fury, Kaela trailing chaos in her wake, Azael holding ancient tomes that now writhed with Celestia’s sacrifice rewritten into prophecy.

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‎The people of Elira knelt.

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‎Not because they were told.

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‎But because they felt it.

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‎Their savior had lost something sacred, and in that absence, he had become something... else.

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‎Darius raised the forged ring to the sky.

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‎His voice thundered.

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‎> "Let this be known across the realms. Celestia did not die in vain. I will finish what she anchored. I will unwrite the script that made her a pawn."

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‎"And I will burn the heavens for ever thinking they owned her."

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‎[Beyond – In the Unwritten Realms]

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‎The Revenant King stirred from his slumber.

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‎The Weavers of Shadow screamed.

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‎The Void whispered in amusement.

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‎And from the edge of uncreation, a forgotten god—sealed since the First Fracture—opened its single, blind eye.

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‎"Ah," it rasped, voice like static across dead stars. "He begins."

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