God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord-Chapter 154 - 155 – The Seedling’s Choice
Chapter 154: Chapter 155 – The Seedling’s Choice
The light in Elirion had changed.
Not just brighter—but more intentional.
As if the world itself had exhaled after Kaela’s return to form.
And within the heart of the citadel garden, nestled between stones shaped by no hand, the Seedling pulsed.
It no longer looked like a plant.
Its tendrils had coiled inward, forming a cocoon of shimmering roots—each one pulsing with silent language. Words without tongue. Memory without time.
Darius stood before it, hands folded behind his back, silent.
Kaela watched beside him, her newly stable form calm, radiant—and marked by depth. She saw more now. Not just through time, but beneath it.
Nyx knelt just outside the circle of growth, eyes narrowed. Her instinct warred with her curiosity. She didn’t trust things that chose to evolve outside of law.
But Darius did.
And the Seedling—now humming with more than life—was choosing.
The girl was perhaps eight.
Dark curls curled around her shoulders like ink poured in water. She had no name the world had remembered. Only a label: the Mute One.
Born during a storm. Taken in by priests who called her cursed. Kept in silence her whole life—until the night the Codex rewrote their temple into dust.
She wandered since then. Watching. Never speaking.
The Seedling reached for her, and she, in turn, stepped forward without hesitation.
Darius did not move.
The girl’s bare feet brushed the grass as she entered the radiant circle. Her eyes did not widen. Her breath did not quicken. She simply... accepted.
A single root uncoiled, touching her throat.
There was no flash. No explosion. No grand coronation.
Only a breath.
She inhaled—and the world seemed to pause.
The clouds above froze mid-swirl. The wind stilled.
Then she spoke.
Her voice wasn’t childish. Nor aged.
It came like a river that had always been flowing beneath the soil, now finally allowed to break surface.
And what she said was not prophecy.
It was story.
"A sparrow once flew against the wind and broke its wings. But it fell into a nest that had not been built yet. There, it sang. And that song shaped the wood that caught it."
No one understood.
But everyone felt it.
A soldier nearby dropped to his knees, weeping. His broken arm twisted and snapped back into place.
A mourning woman gasped as the memory of her son shifted—from one of violent death to one of peaceful passing.
Darius’s eyes narrowed. The world was listening to her.
"She’s not just speaking," Kaela whispered. "She’s sculpting the story of what should have been."
"She’s a living bard," Nyx murmured. "No... something more dangerous."
Kaela nodded. "A vessel."
The girl looked at Darius, her eyes now glowing faintly with green-gold threads.
"Who wrote the first lie?" she asked.
Darius tilted his head. "Which one?"
She smiled—not like a child, but like a myth finally given voice.
"The one that said only gods can change the world."
And then, without waiting, she walked to him.
She placed a small hand on his chest.
The Codex floated above them for a heartbeat, its pages flaring open.
Words etched themselves into the air:
> A child once denied voice now shapes the wind’s direction. She is not oracle, nor prophet, nor goddess. She is the story made will.
> Name: Lorea. Role: Voice of the Unsung.
And just like that, the Seedling’s light dimmed.
Its purpose had shifted—from potential to legacy.
Later, under a quiet sky, Darius found Lorea sitting alone on a stone ledge. Her legs kicked idly as she whispered to birds who now gathered around her without fear.
"They listen," she said. "Not just animals. But the broken things. The empty."
Darius sat beside her. "Do you understand what you’ve become?"
She looked at him, her smile faded now—replaced by something ancient.
"I understand enough to be afraid. But not enough to stop."
He nodded.
"That’s all anyone ever gets."
She hesitated. "Will I become too much? Will I forget who I was?"
Darius reached over, placing a hand gently atop her head.
"No. You’ll become exactly enough. Because you’ll remember who you choose to be."
Her smile returned.
And the sky deepened above them—not dark, not bright. Just... alive.
Far above, unseen to all but Kaela—
the Codex pulsed again.
Not with warning.
But with acknowledgment.
The world had chosen a storyteller.
And stories, once spoken by power, were no longer bound by gods.
They could now rewrite the divine.
And so Lorea—Voice of the Unsung—walked forward into the unwritten.
Not as a savior.
Not as a god.
But as the child who dared to speak the world’s dream aloud.
But not everyone welcomed this dream.
From the fractured shadow beneath the earth—where roots dared not reach—a pulse of cold rewound itself through Elirion’s understructure. Faint, almost imperceptible, but real.
Kaela felt it first.
Her head turned slowly toward the horizon, eyes narrowing to slits of iridescent chaos.
"She’s drawn attention," Kaela murmured. "Not just from the Codex..."
Nyx rose from her crouch, blades sliding soundlessly back into their sheaths. "Something ancient is listening. And it doesn’t like what it hears."
Darius remained still.
His gaze was locked on Lorea.
She hadn’t moved. She sat in the garden as if she’d always belonged there, whispering to invisible threads. But her words were starting to bind—not just shape. Unwittingly, her will had begun to tangle with Elirion’s laws.
Not bend them.
But replace them.
"She’s not rewriting the world," Darius said at last. "She’s offering it a new melody. One the dead might dance to again."
"Or one that wakes things better left forgotten," Nyx warned.
Kaela stepped forward, her form flickering subtly, like the light around her couldn’t quite agree with her presence.
"We’ll need to teach her control. If her voice shapes memory and memory shapes fate... then a whisper could undo kingdoms."
"Or me," Darius added dryly. "If she sings the wrong verse."
Lorea turned, unprompted, and smiled at him as if she’d heard every word. Maybe she had.
"I won’t undo you," she said softly. "You’re part of the story now."
That simple declaration caused something in the Codex to pause. It waited, hanging in the air like a held breath.
And then the pages turned.
Again.
[Codex Entry Updated – New Domain Recognized]
> Domain: The Unsung
Bound to: Lorea, Voice of the Unsung
Nature: Mutable Memory / Song of the Forsaken / Story-as-Will
Divine Interference: Restricted
Codex Override Permission: Granted to the Bearer of the Black Sigil
Warning: Domain evolution unpredictable. Narrative probability field collapsing.
Kaela exhaled sharply. "It’s started. The Codex is no longer controlling causality. It’s beginning to negotiate with it."
"That’s impossible," Nyx growled. "Only the Prime Coder could force the Codex into—"
"No," Kaela interrupted. "Only someone outside the old logic tree could. And Lorea’s never belonged to any version of the system."
Darius stood.
His expression unreadable, but his voice was clear.
"Then we protect her."
Nyx looked doubtful. "You want to shield a girl who can warp fate by speaking it?"
"I want to guide her," Darius said. "Before someone else does."
Unseen by all, deep within the layers between code and myth, something stirred.
The Prime Coder’s remnant—a pale, logic-bound fragment of will long buried in the system—shivered.
A new voice had entered the chorus.
One it did not write.
One it could not predict.
The Prime Coder’s shadow flickered in silence.
And then began to... listen.
Because every great script starts the same way:
> With a child who dares to speak.
This chapter is updated by freew(e)bnovel.(c)om
