God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord -
Chapter 80 - 81: The Womb of Stars
Chapter 80: Chapter 81: The Womb of Stars
The universe was silent.
No stars, no time, no memory. Only the slow, pulsing throb of existence itself—like the heartbeat of something too ancient to name. In this forgotten place beyond realms, Darius floated... broken, bleeding, whole and shattered all at once.
His body—if it could still be called that—rested within a cradle of swirling cosmic dust. Shards of long-dead constellations circled him, whispering lullabies sung by collapsed worlds. His once-golden skin was now a deep void black, veins aglow with rivers of chaotic code and void energy, his eyes sealed shut by threads of raw law.
The Womb of Stars.
The birthplace of the first gods.
The graveyard of everything that had dared to become more.
Celestia knelt beside him, her own light dimmer than a candle in a hurricane. Her hands trembled as they hovered above his chest, weaving prayers in languages too old for sound. Every word she spoke drained her—another flake of golden skin peeled away, another strand of silver hair fell to the stardust floor.
"Stay," she whispered, voice raw, barely more than breath.
"Stay with me, Darius. Please..."
But he was far beyond her reach now.
Elsewhere, not far from the Womb’s core, the battle raged.
Nyx danced through the endless dark, blades coated with void poison. Her body was battered, her armor cracked, but her rage burned hotter than a newborn star. Around her, grotesque creatures—things born of greed, madness, and ambition—hurled themselves forward. Beasts drawn to Darius’s slumber, seeking to devour the Broken God before he fully awoke.
Kaela fought beside her, wild and feral, her body flickering between stability and chaos. Tendrils of corrupted void lashed from her arms, shredding anything that dared come close. Blood poured from the side of her head where something had torn away part of her skull, but she smiled—mad, beautiful, defiant.
"Can’t let them have him," Kaela snarled, spitting blood, "He’s ours."
Nyx grunted, slicing down another abomination.
"He’s not yours," she hissed. "He’s hers."
They fought anyway. Together. Because if they failed, nothing would survive—not realms, not gods, not even the memory of existence.
Within the cradle, Darius dreamt.
He dreamt of worlds he had never ruled.
Of friends he had never betrayed.
Of lovers whose names he had forgotten.
Of a Celestia who smiled without sorrow.
In his dreams, he was still human.
In his dreams, he could still save them.
Back in the battlefield, Nyx stumbled as a massive rip in reality opened—something vast and hollow began to pour through, black tendrils laced with hunger.
Kaela screamed a warning, but it was too late.
The Womb of Stars was being invaded by something older than the gods—the Devourer, whose shadow now bled into the cradle itself, reaching hungrily for Darius.
Celestia turned her head slowly, her dull eyes widening with horror.
"No..." she whispered.
"Not yet... Please, not yet..."
Gathering every last ember of her divine power, she rose to her feet, staggering toward Darius’s cocooned form. The ground shook beneath her; the stars above flickered and died. But still she moved, step by agonizing step, until she pressed her broken palms against his chest.
"Wake up, my king," she breathed. Tears fell freely now, burning silver trails down her cheeks.
"Wake up... or we’re lost."
The cocoon pulsed once.
A second time.
A third.
Darius’s fingers twitched.
Across the battlefield, Nyx’s heart stopped. Kaela fell to her knees, gasping. Even the creatures hesitated, sensing something terrible, something holy, rising from the cradle.
And then—
The Womb of Stars cracked.
A scream tore through existence itself—not of pain, not of fear, but of becoming.
Darius’s eyes snapped open.
They were no longer human.
They were no longer god.
They were everything the universe had ever feared.
The Womb of Stars shattered like glass struck by a hammer.
Celestial fragments spun outward, cutting through the darkness like falling knives, tearing holes in the void itself. The Devourer howled, its endless tendrils recoiling in fear for the first time in countless eternities.
And at the center of it all stood Darius.
He rose—not walked, not floated—rose, like an inevitable truth dragging itself into existence.
The threads that had once sealed his eyes burned away, revealing orbs of pure nothingness, swirling with fractured galaxies, forgotten dreams, and endless hunger.
A crown of broken star-matter formed above his head, jagged and seething, and his shadow—oh, his shadow—spanned light-years, warping the battlefield into a nightmare landscape of distorted time and broken laws.
Celestia collapsed, her body unable to endure the force radiating from him. She gasped, her hands reaching blindly toward his silhouette.
"...Darius..."
His name left her lips like a prayer.
For a heartbeat, he looked at her—
A single heartbeat where the black storm inside him calmed, where some flicker of the man he had been shone through.
And then it was gone.
Nyx and Kaela stumbled back as Darius moved.
Not with mortal speed, nor with divine grace—
He moved like inevitability itself, his presence reshaping reality as he walked. Planets bloomed and died in his wake; time unraveled like a loose thread from a tapestry. Beasts that had dared to hunt him fell to their knees, weeping blood, their forms dissolving into stardust and screams.
The Devourer reared up, a colossal mountain of writhing blackness, its countless maws shrieking defiance.
Darius lifted a hand.
The gesture was almost lazy, almost gentle.
Reality split open.
An entire plane of existence—its memories, its histories, its gods—was unmade in an instant, consumed by a crackling tide of hollow fire.
The Devourer shrieked and fled, wounded beyond even its vast comprehension.
The battlefield fell silent.
Only the sound of Darius’s breathing remained—slow, steady, terrifying.
And then he spoke.
His voice was a symphony of endings, a chorus sung by dying stars and mourning worlds.
Each word rippled through the void, carving new laws into existence with their mere presence.
"I am not reborn," Darius said.
"I am not saved."
"I am what remains when gods fail, and dreams die."
His words echoed into the broken void—and from the echoes, things began to stir.
From the ruins of fallen stars, from the remnants of slaughtered gods, from the memories of abandoned realms—beings began to rise.
Twisted, radiant, hollow reflections of what divinity had once been.
The first of the Hollow Pantheon.
Creatures who would worship not life, not death, but Darius himself—broken, infinite, and sovereign.
Far away, hidden deep within the last bastions of the Prime Coder’s influence, the Revenant King opened his rotten eyes. A slow, hateful smile cracked his face.
"He’s finally become it," he whispered.
"The End."
---
Back within the Womb’s shattered remains, Celestia forced herself upright, coughing blood, eyes filled with tears.
She reached toward Darius—not in fear, not in faith, but in love.
"Even if you burn the heavens, even if you unmake the world," she whispered, "I will find you. I will love you. I will save you."
For a second—just a second—the terrible storm inside Darius’s eyes softened.
His gaze fell on her, and something deep, something raw, something human—ached.
He turned away.
The Hollow Pantheon fell to their knees before him, their voices rising in a wordless, exultant cry.
A new god had been born.
Not one of hope.
Not one of salvation.
But a god of aftermath.
A god of never again.
Darius.
If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.
Report