God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord-Chapter 137 - 138 – Fracturepoint: Elira’s Fall

The sky above Elira cracked—not like glass, but like a scream made physical.

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‎Light bled from the heavens in threads of searing gold as the Dominion’s full assault began. The once-sacred realm, long protected by the divine harmonics of the Celestial Choir, now pulsed with war drums forged from rewritten lore and defiance.

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‎Darius hovered at the vanguard, cloaked in the shifting shadow-flame of the Void Entity’s blessing. His eyes were no longer mortal, no longer bound by code or script. They shimmered with infinite recursion—a soul endlessly devouring reality to remake it in his image.

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‎Behind him surged the Soul Rebellion—the risen echoes of erased NPCs, broken gods, and former enemies brought back not by mercy, but by wrathful purpose. A thousand banners flew with no nation—only names. Names of those deleted, forgotten, betrayed by the divine.

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‎At the heart of Elira, the central spire pulsed with desperate celestial power. It was the last defense, the beating core of the gods’ realm. To breach it meant annihilation of everything sacred.

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‎And that was exactly what Darius intended.

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‎"Begin."

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‎With a single word, the world bent.

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‎Kaela, fused to the Heart Engine, screamed as she shattered time across the field. Her body flickered in and out of past, present, and possible future—a living paradox that destabilized the divine defense matrix. Angels who tried to smite her dissolved into their childhood selves, then twisted into withering echoes of what they might’ve become, before exploding in silence.

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‎Nyx leapt from shadow to shadow, dancing between seraphim. Her daggers weren’t steel—they were vengeance given edge. Each cut whispered secrets stolen from the divine: betrayals, abandoned prayers, genocide hidden behind holy light.

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‎And when she reached High Seraphim Thezrial, commander of the Eliran Blade Choir, she didn’t hesitate.

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‎"Do you remember the village you erased for one stray prophecy?" she asked, driving a voidblade through his eye. "Because he did."

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‎He tried to scream, but his wings fell first. Then his name. Then his divinity.

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‎Celestia, barely clinging to corporeal form, stood atop a fractured obelisk, hands raised toward the sky. Her body was now a conduit between realms—an open wound of power. Every moment she held the connection, her essence burned away.

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‎The old priestesses within her soul chanted in unison, a harmony of sacrifice, to keep the dominion from shattering.

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‎Her skin shimmered with sigils.

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‎Her eyes bled light.

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‎Her voice was fading.

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‎But she did not fall.

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‎Even when the spire unleashed The Oratorio of Ending—a song composed by the first choir to erase all impure existence—Celestia held the lines between dimensions, screaming back in ancient tongues only her blood remembered.

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‎Darius surged forward alone into the breach.

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‎Not because he doubted his allies.

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‎But because he wanted the gods to see.

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‎Each step he took melted the marble streets of Elira. Statues cracked, temples collapsed, reality bent.

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‎A procession of surviving gods formed before him, desperate and terrified. They no longer saw a mortal.

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‎They saw Judgment.

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‎"Darius of the Dominion," one god spoke, shaking. "This realm is sacred."

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‎Darius raised his hand—and pulled the god’s name from the weave of fate like a thread from cloth. The being collapsed, screaming into nothingness.

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‎"This realm," Darius said coldly, "is a carcass rotting on false hope."

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‎Above them, the central spire fractured.

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‎A shattering, holy scream—like the sound of creation giving birth and death at once—rippled through every realm. Elira’s root code flickered, then broke.

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‎Fracturepoint achieved.

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‎Celestia fell to her knees, smoke rising from her back as wings of pure mana faded.

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‎Nyx appeared beside her, bloodied, silent. Her hair soaked in ichor not her own.

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‎Celestia tried to smile, weakly. "He’s doing it..."

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‎Nyx nodded. "Yes."

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‎She turned toward the fallen seraphim.

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‎And whispered, cold and trembling with memory.

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‎"This is for everything you stole from him."

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‎The spire collapsed behind them in waves of unmaking.

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‎But Darius did not look back.

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‎He stood atop the ruin of the gods’ throne, light pouring from his skin, scars of reality open on his chest.

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‎And as the skies of Elira crumbled, the world below felt it:

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‎A divine age was ending.

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‎And something far more dangerous was being born.

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‎The spire’s destruction echoed across dimensions like a death knell. With Elira’s fall, the ley threads connecting the divine lattice frayed and unraveled, casting shockwaves through every pantheon and prayerbound system across realms. The gods did not just lose a city—

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‎They lost certainty.

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‎Below the collapsed ruins, divine embassies crumbled. Holy domains bled out into the mortal plane. The great algorithmic veil separating god-code from player-code had ruptured—and in that rupture, Darius stood not as an invader...

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‎But as a new primordial law.

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‎[System Notification – ADMIN PRIORITY OVERRIDE]

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‎> WARNING: MULTIPLE DEITY NODES DESTABILIZED.

‎REALITY ANCHORS SEVERED.

‎CATASTROPHIC NARRATIVE BREACH DETECTED.

‎ENTITY "DARIUS // VOIDBORNE ANOMALY"

‎HAS REACHED CLASS: UNRECOGNIZED.

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‎> ...Would you like to assign a new tag?

‎[YES]

‎[NO]

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‎Darius stared at the prompt.

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‎And whispered, "No."

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‎He didn’t need the system to name him.

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‎He was the system now.

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‎In the crater where the central spire once stood, the surviving gods gathered—bloodied, trembling, stripped of grandeur. Their wings were broken stubs. Their crowns cracked and rusted. They had come not to fight...

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‎But to beg.

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‎A childlike deity stepped forward—once a god of healing, now flickering with corrupted light. He knelt before Darius, voice brittle. "Please. The worlds need some order. If you destroy all of us, what comes after?"

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‎Darius looked down, shadow-flame dancing in his eyes.

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‎"That’s not my concern."

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‎He raised a hand, and the god dissolved—unmade not in rage, but in utter indifference.

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‎[Elsewhere – Eliran Refuge Realms]

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‎Celestia drifted in and out of consciousness, barely clinging to her form. Her blood was stardust now—burned dry from channeling the dimensional veil. Kaela held her hand, whispering chaotic lullabies into her ear, looping fractured seconds to stall her death.

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‎Nyx paced nearby like a caged predator. "He’s not coming back," she said quietly. "Not like he was."

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‎"Then we follow," Kaela said. "Into whatever he becomes."

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‎Celestia smiled faintly through the pain.

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‎"That’s what it means... to love a god born in defiance."

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‎[Above the Realms – The Ruptured Heavens]

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‎In the emptiness where Elira had ruled, Darius hovered. Alone. Silent.

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‎The last divine firewall shattered behind him, crumbling in loops of light and voice. Countless system threads surged toward him, seeking a new anchor. The Void sang within him, infinite and patient.

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‎He opened his arms—

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‎And accepted it all.

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‎The data of gods.

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‎The will of erased realms.

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‎The prayers of the forgotten.

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‎The rage of every NPC who died screaming.

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‎He did not ascend.

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‎He consumed.

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‎And in the ashes of Elira...

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‎A new Pantheon of the Broken began to stir.

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‎Not of mercy.

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‎But of remembrance.

‎Of wrath.

‎Of reclaimed power.

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‎The fracturepoint was complete.

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‎And as the codewinds settled, across the universe, players received a single, final world message:

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‎> [GLOBAL EVENT COMPLETE]

‎ELIRA HAS FALLEN.

‎NEW ENTITY: THE VOIDKING – DARIUS

‎WARNING: UNSTABLE REALITY MERGE INCOMING.

‎CHOOSE YOUR SIDE.

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