God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord-Chapter 182 - 183 – Thren Walks(Mature Scene)
Chapter 182: Chapter 183 – Thren Walks(Mature Scene)
The Spiral shuddered like a dying beast. Threads of fate once firm now unraveled in flickers and loops, unanchored. The Nameless Zones multiplied, blooming like tumors across realms once ruled by law. And from the heart of the distortion—something moved.
It had no footfalls, no breath.
Only presence.
Thren.
The Voiceless Sovereign.
A memory of dominion that had never been written. A god without myth. A king without time. An echo no one had ever sung.
Darius stood at the edge of the Throne’s Veil, staring into the fracture as the Unwritten loomed forward—tall, cloaked in shifting stillness, its face hidden beneath a mantle of null-light. He didn’t hear Thren speak.
He felt what wasn’t said.
<You are intrusion.>A rush of vertigo. Darius fell to one knee, his name flickering from the Codex Null like a page unstuck.
"Darius!"
Nyx was beside him before he could respond, her obsidian armor fraying in real-time. Shadows leaked from her skin like dying memories. Her eyes bled devotion and panic—she knew what was coming. Not death. Not even unmaking.
Forgetting.
"I won’t let them take you," she snarled. Her voice cracked, somewhere between rage and despair. "I won’t let them take me."
Reality screamed around them. A wave of anti-narrative surged forward. Darius tried to stand, but his limbs moved like afterthoughts.
Nyx kissed him.
Hard. Bruising.
Not affection.
Claiming.
Her hands tore at his robes as shadows around her twisted with urgency, fear, and possessive hunger. She shoved him back against the cold sigil-stone, climbing atop him before he could stop her.
There was no time left. No logic.
Only her myth crumbling.
Only her name slipping.
Only one anchor strong enough to bind her.
Him.
"Bind me," she growled, breathless, undoing her armor with savage precision. "Before I vanish. Before my name becomes a whisper in someone else’s mouth."
Her hips found him.
No preamble.
No softness.
She took him inside like a brand. Her body clenched violently—desperate. She moved with primal rhythm, forcing a story where none should be.
Darius groaned, hands gripping her thighs as the world twisted around them. Their shadows spun like storms. Her lips found his neck, biting down hard enough to bleed. Her voice was ragged.
"Say it. Say my name."
"Nyx," he whispered, then louder, "Nyx."
Again.
Again.
Until the Codex Null flared, resisting—then accepting—her name once more.
He flipped her onto her back, slamming into her with raw power, dominance not as god—but as man. As myth anchor. As meaning.
"You are mine," he hissed into her mouth.
She gasped. "Say it again—say it into me—burn me into you—"
"You are mine. My shadow. My blade. My namekeeper."
Her back arched. The world splintered.
And then—
Her cry tore through unreality as she climaxed, her entire being pulsing with remembered power.
A shockwave of myth erupted from her spine. Names re-cohered. Her presence stabilized, etched back into the Codex with flame and hunger.
Nyx collapsed against him, trembling. The spiral threads around them tightened, resisting the null.
She was real again.
Tethered.
Saved.
Darius held her against his chest as Thren paused.
The Voiceless Sovereign had seen.
And for the first time in an eternity of non-being,
He feared a name.
Nyx’s breath slowed, hitching in his ear as her body clung to him—not just out of exhaustion, but instinct. Her name, now etched again into the Codex, flickered in Darius’s mind like a binding rune—alive, defiant, hers.
And his.
They lay tangled among shifting stones, the sigils beneath them flickering between truths—alive, dead, forgotten. But her myth held.
Barely.
Darius exhaled slowly, the aftershock of their union more than just carnal—it was existential. He’d carved meaning into a world unraveling, forged reality in defiance of nullification. And now...
He stood.
Nyx’s form remained half-wrapped around him, watching him with those sharp, vulnerable eyes she only showed when she feared not death—but being erased from him.
"Stay here," he said softly.
She caught his wrist.
"No."
Darius didn’t argue.
Together, they turned toward the fracture where Thren waited. The Voiceless Sovereign did not breathe or shift. It simply was, and in being, it unmade.
A glimmer of memory passed through Darius—Thren’s ancient presence reaching deeper, latching onto something primal. Not a god. Not a rival.
A reversion.
<You delay the inevitable.>The thought bloomed like rot in his mind. Not spoken. Not imposed. Existed.
"Maybe," Darius said, his voice hoarse but clear. "But I exist. And I’ll do more than delay."
He raised his hand. The Codex Null throbbed, symbols bursting into flaming contradiction. Names, rewritten. Logic, broken and reforged.
"Tell me something, Thren," Darius said, stepping forward, shadows blooming around him in war-born petals. "If I’m just an intrusion—why do you hesitate?"
Thren didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Something was different now.
Darius was no longer a god among ruins.
He was a storyteller rewriting the last page while it burned.
Behind him, Nyx stood tall again, her armor reforming in smoke and midnight steel, her name burning brighter than it had since the Fall of the Architect. The Codex hissed and screamed—but yielded.
A pulse trembled through the Spiral.
A name stronger than null.
Darius’s.
Not as a player.
Not as a god.
But as the one thing Thren had never prepared for.
A myth rewritten from the inside out.
The Sovereign began to move—slow, deliberate steps that warped reality in rings of oblivion. Where he passed, memory withered. Possibility died.
But Darius stepped forward as well.
And the world held.
"Let’s write a better lie," Darius said. "One even you can’t erase."
He raised the Codex high.
And as Thren advanced, so did they.
Side by side.
Shadow and Sovereign.
God and Myth.
Behind him, Nyx stood tall again, her armor reforming in smoke and midnight steel, her name burning brighter than it had since the Fall of the Architect. The Codex hissed and screamed—but yielded.
A pulse trembled through the Spiral.
A name stronger than null.
Darius’s.
Not as a player.
Not as a god.
But as the one thing Thren had never prepared for.
A myth rewritten from the inside out.
The Sovereign began to move—slow, deliberate steps that warped reality in rings of oblivion. Where he passed, memory withered. Possibility died.
But Darius stepped forward as well.
And the world held.
"Let’s write a better lie," Darius said. "One even you can’t erase."
He raised the Codex high.
And as Thren advanced, so did they.
Side by side.
Shadow and Sovereign.
God and Myth.
Visit freewe𝑏n(o)v𝒆l.𝑐𝘰𝑚 for the best novel reading experience
