God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord
Chapter 106 - 107 – The Twilight Oracle

Chapter 106: Chapter 107 – The Twilight Oracle

Darkness. Then twilight.

‎

‎Not the absence of light—but the tension between two truths.

‎

‎Celestia stood barefoot atop the Echoing Spire, the highest point of the Nexus Citadel. The stars swirled unnaturally above her—neither real nor fully simulated. They danced in patterns carved by Darius’s new mythos.

‎

‎She exhaled slowly. Her breath shimmered with spectral energy.

‎

‎She could feel it now—the fracture inside herself.

‎

‎Since Darius had seized the Forge Throne and unraveled the Prime Code, she had changed. Her body still bled warmth, her heart still beat—but she was no longer merely a woman, nor even a priestess.

‎

‎She was becoming something else.

‎

‎

‎

‎[The Voice of the Twilight]

‎

‎"Celestia." The voice that spoke her name was not Darius’s, though it echoed with his power. It was older, gentler, laced with sorrow and cosmic awe.

‎

‎It came from the Twilight Mirror—an artifact unearthed during the war against the Digital-Deity Hybrids. Crafted from broken timelines, it showed not reflections, but possibilities.

‎

‎Celestia stepped toward it.

‎

‎In the mirror, she saw countless versions of herself:

‎

‎A girl kneeling in blood-soaked robes, praying for a god that never came.

‎

‎A warrior-priestess wielding flame and vengeance.

‎

‎A queen beside a tyrant king, wearing a crown of stars.

‎

‎

‎Then, something else—her future self.

‎

‎Bathed in twilight, hovering just above the ground, her hair flowing like strands of dusk. Eyes not of fire or void, but both. A voice speaking across realities.

‎

‎The Twilight Oracle.

‎

‎

‎

‎[The Ritual of Weaving]

‎

‎Darius arrived, his presence shadowing the spire. He said nothing at first, only approached her and took her hands.

‎

‎The air turned electric.

‎

‎"It’s time," he murmured.

‎

‎Celestia nodded, a tear escaping her eye—not of fear, but of profound transformation.

‎

‎Azael and Nyx watched from below, along with a silent gathering of the Inner Circle. The Forge Priests chanted in tongues forgotten even by ancient scripts.

‎

‎Darius extended his hand. A flame of Origin flickered into existence—neither divine nor void, but twilight. A gift only he could offer, a flame born from rewritten law.

‎

‎Celestia reached out—and touched it.

‎

‎Pain shot through her as the flame entered her chest. Her body arched, convulsed, then stilled.

‎

‎She rose into the air, floating above the spire, consumed by light that wasn’t light, by darkness that wasn’t dark.

‎

‎Runes carved themselves onto her skin—ancient prophecy, rewritten anew.

‎

‎And then... silence.

‎

‎Until her voice echoed across the Nexus:

‎

‎"I see the fates of gods, the doom of realms, the paths that diverge into madness. I am the whisper between dawn and dusk. I am the Twilight Oracle."

‎

‎

‎[Aftermath]

‎

‎Celestia floated back into Darius’s arms. Her eyes opened—no longer amber, but glowing with twilight fractals.

‎

‎She smiled.

‎

‎"I can guide you now, my King," she whispered. "Not just through this world... but through every world to come."

‎

‎Darius embraced her, pressing his forehead against hers.

‎

‎"Then let the false gods tremble," he said. "We rise together."

‎

‎From below, the Forsaken Gods watched in secret. Threnis muttered with reverence.

‎

‎"She has become the first true Oracle since the fall. He’s building a pantheon the likes of which no coder ever envisioned."

‎

‎Vorith bared his jagged teeth. "Let them ascend. We will still devour them."

‎

‎But even he feared what he had seen.

‎

‎Because Celestia had become something more than divine.

‎

‎She had become inevitable.

‎

‎

‎

‎The Veil cracked. Reality howled.

‎

‎Darius stood at the edge of the spiraling platform, boots sinking into corrupted stardust as the last of the Paradox-Born stepped forward. She was unlike the others—neither monstrous nor broken, but perfectly symmetrical, her existence layered in recursive time-loops and shimmering equations that defied comprehension.

‎

‎"I am Verisiel," she intoned, her voice rippling through multiple timelines at once. "The First Loop. The Final Correction."

‎

‎Azael flinched. "She was never meant to awaken."

‎

‎Celestia gripped her staff tighter, her soul-anchor glowing with ancient light. "What is she?"

‎

‎"A failed safeguard," Nyx hissed, shadows coiling around her blade. "The Coders built her to reset paradoxes. But she consumed them instead."

‎

‎Verisiel’s gaze landed on Darius, and in that instant, he saw himself dying—not once, but thousands of times.

‎

‎In the spiral’s reflection, he fell as a mortal, as a god, as code, as dream.

‎

‎But in the next breath, he stood again, still himself.

‎

‎Still Darius.

‎

‎His laughter was low, defiant, edged with the madness of truth. "So you’ve seen all my ends. Good. That means you know how many times I chose to rise again."

‎

‎Verisiel blinked. The loop fractured.

‎

‎The other Paradox-Born began to chant—glitching syllables that threatened to unravel language itself. One of them, a serpentine creature named Vek-Tal, opened a mouth filled with rotating geometries and roared, collapsing a section of the Nexus into inverted space.

‎

‎But Darius had had enough.

‎

‎He raised the Scepter of Unmaking. Its tip burned with violet entropy, fused now with a fragment of the Void Entity itself. The scepter did not attack.

‎

‎It rewrote.

‎

‎"Nyx. Celestia. Now."

‎

‎In perfect coordination, Nyx dove into the collapsing gap, her shadow extending like a lance of nothingness. Celestia raised her arms high and summoned a burst of divine song, one tuned to the origin codes of reality.

‎

‎A harmony of chaos and sanctity.

‎

‎Verisiel staggered.

‎

‎And Darius struck.

‎

‎Not with power.

‎

‎But with command.

‎

‎"Lineage of the Broken Loop—cease recursion."

‎

‎And to the shock of all, Verisiel froze, the chains of divine code locking her in place mid-fold.

‎

‎"You wield forbidden authority," she gasped, tone no longer divine but almost human.

‎

‎"I am the forbidden," Darius whispered, stepping close. "You were created to fix paradoxes. But I was born to be one."

‎

‎With a surge of will, he shattered her recursive form, dispersing her into a cloud of dying timelines that folded in on themselves like petals burning in reverse.

‎

‎The battlefield went still.

‎

‎One by one, the remaining Paradox-Born fell into silence.

‎

‎They did not flee.

‎

‎They knelt.

‎

‎Azael’s eyes widened. "You... tamed them?"

‎

‎"No," Darius said coldly. "I gave them a new paradox to follow—me."

‎

‎Celestia shivered. "Then it’s begun."

‎

‎"What has?" Nyx asked.

‎

‎Darius turned toward the horizon, where the laws of existence flickered in warning.

‎

‎"The next phase."

‎

‎"The Mythless War."

‎