Spend King: She Left Me, So I Bought Everything
Chapter 54: WAR AGAINST NOTHING

Chapter 54: WAR AGAINST NOTHING

Reality frayed like old parchment. Nishanth’s gold coins dissolved into static. Seraphina’s sword lost its edge—not dulled, but forgotten.

"It’s eating meaning," Lilith hissed, her demonic ledger flickering. "First Belgium, now sarcasm? What’s next—tax fraud?!"

Zara’s golden hand gleamed defiantly. "Joke’s on it—I never understood sarcasm anyway."

A wave of void washed over the speakeasy. When it cleared:

The whiskey bottles now held warm milk

Nishanth’s suit was beige cardigan

Seraphina’s armor read: "HUG ENTHUSIAST"

[ VOID PROGRESS: 25% – DELETED: IRONY, CONFLICT, THE CONCEPT OF "INTEREST" ]

Location:The Alchemist’s Lair

A goth teenager in a "Nietzsche is My Bae" hoodie stirred a cauldron of existential dread.

"Pathetic," the Emo Alchemist sneered. "You fight nothing with gold? False binaries are so passé."

Zara lunged for the Philosopher’s Stone—a jagged obsidian shard pulsing with un-answers. Her golden fingers brushed it...

CRACK!

The stone split. Half vanished; half fused to her hand, glowing with anti-light.

"Whoops," she whispered. The Void recoiled—afraid.

[ NEW POWER: "ZARA THE NULL-HAND" ]

[ EFFECT: Can unmake void-touched things (10% success rate) ]

Lilith stormed the North Pole Archives, kicking aside cursed teddy bears. "WHERE’S THE 0 A.D. NAUGHTY LIST?!"

A crib rattled. Baby Santa cooed, clutching a scroll dripping with primordial coal dust.

"Give. It." Lilith reached—and baby Santa bit her finger, unleashing a wave of:

Unpaid elven overtime claims

Stolen cookie blueprints

The original sin: a tax-deductible fruit

[ MEMORY UNLOCKED: LILITH’S FIRST AUDIT ]

Flashback: Baby Lilith in tiny pinstripe diapers, wagging a quill at screaming gingerbread men.

"I was adorable," she muttered, snatching the scroll. "And terrifying."

The team stood at the edge of the Bleach Zone. The Void coalesced into a shifting Rorschach blot that whispered:

"Why struggle? Simplicity is peace. No audits. No you."

Nishanth laughed—a raw, ugly sound the Void couldn’t erase. "But I like me." He threw Lilith’s baby Santa scroll into the blot.

FWOOM!

The scroll burned with complication: ancient ink, elven grievances, cookie recipes. The Void screamed in 17 forgotten languages.

[ VOID PROGRESS: HALTED AT 30% – DELETED: ITS OWN NAME ]

A figure emerged from the static: a blacksmith hammering ideas into shape.

"I am the Last Smith," they said, voice echoing with "what-if". "You fight with stolen tools. Forge your own weapons."

They offered:

Nishanth: A hammer that turned debt into diamonds

Seraphina: An anvil that reforged "duty" into "choice"

Tabitha: Dragon-sized tongs that squeezed loopholes shut

Zara raised her Null-Hand. "What about me?"

The Smith sighed. "Child, you are the weapon."

The Void writhed, wounded but vast. Lilith approached, holding Baby Santa’s coal.

"Truce," she offered. "We carve a world with taxes, audits, and sarcasm. You get... this."

She dropped the coal into the Void. It sizzled—corrupting nothingness with guilt.

The Void recoiled. "...AGREED."

Reality snapped back:

Belgium returned (regrettably)

Zara’s margarita regained its tequila bite

Nishanth’s suit bled back to vengeful black-and-gold

[ TEMPORARY TRUCE: VOID CONTAINED (FOR NOW) ]

[ COST: BABY SANTA’S COAL (HE’LL WANT IT BACK) ]

The speakeasy morphed into a hellish nursery. Walls dripped sticky jam, the air reeked of spoiled milk, and demonic teddy bears chanted:

"Nishanth is a MEANIE! NISHANTH IS A MEANIE!"

In a highchair throne, Baby Santa sucked on Lilith’s stolen coal, his diaper blazing with infernal runes.

"MY COAL!" he babbled, pointing a rattle that fired pacifier shurikens.

Zara ducked, her Null-Hand flickering. "He’s weaponizing cuteness? Unfair!"

[ BABY SANTA’S POWER: "TEMPER TANTRUM REALITY WARPS" ]

[ EFFECT: CONVERTING TEARS INTO TICKETED VIOLATIONS ]

Zara’s golden hand pulsed as she tried to steal the coal.

"HAND, DON’T FAIL ME NOW—"

FZZT!

A wave of null-energy erupted. The speakeasy’s calendar disintegrated—along with every Tuesday in the time stream.

"Oops," Zara whispered. Outside, citizens screamed as:

Monday nights bled directly into Wednesdays

Tuesday-born people flickered like bad signals

Taco Tuesday became a cosmic war crime

[ REALITY FRACTURE: "THE TUESDAY GAP" ]

[ VOID PROGRESS: 35% – DELETED: WEEKDAY #2, TACOS, MIDWEEK HOPELESSNESS ]

The Celestial Court reconvened. The God of Taxes wore an "#1 DAD" mugshot tee under his suit.

"Lilith breached our divorce decree!" he roared, slamming down evidence:

A hellfire prenup

Security footage of Lilith stealing his favorite abacus

A glitter-bombed alimony check

Lilith countered by playing his karaoke tape. The jury—12 stone gargoyles—covered their ears as he screeched:

♪ "AND IIIIIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOOOOOATHE YOOOOOU!" ♪

"ENOUGH!" The judge’s gavel cracked. "Lilith pays $666 billion in emotional damages... or cleans his cosmic bathroom for eternity."

Lilith smiled sweetly. "I choose... option C."

She snapped her fingers.

Baby Santa’s stolen Naughty List materialized—with the God’s name at the top.

The tax-dragon descended on the courtroom, roasting the God’s evidence with dragonfire spreadsheets.

"ACCOUNTING ERROR DETECTED!" Tabitha boomed. "YOU CLAIMED 12 ’DEPENDENTS’... WHO ARE ACTUALLY YOUR GOLDFISHES!"

The God paled. "They’re emotional support goldfishes!"

"FRAUD!" Tabitha’s claws tore open a portal to Tax Hell. "YOUR AUDIT IS OVER... PERMANENTLY."

The God screamed as tentacles dragged him away.

"CURSE YOOOO—"SLAM!

[ VERDICT: GOD OF TAXES – GUILTY OF FELONY FUDGED DEDUCTIONS ]

[ SENTENCE: ETERNAL DATA ENTRY IN THE 9TH CIRCLE OF TAX HELL ]

Nishanth faced Baby Santa, holding a glowing pacifier forged by the Last Smith.

"Trade you," he offered. "This for the coal."

The pacifier emitted pure complication:

Quantum physics lullabies

Paradoxical peek-a-boo

Algebra rattles

Baby Santa’s eyes widened. He dropped the coal, grabbing the pacifier—and promptly coded himself into a nap.

[ BABY SANTA: NEUTRALIZED (TEMPORARY TODDLER COMA) ]

[ REALITY RESTORED: TUESDAYS RETURN (TACOS STILL MISSING) ]

As Lilith reclaimed her coal, static crackled:

"You won a battle. Not the war. I am... patient."

Nishanth crushed a void-touched whiskey glass.

"So am I."

Lilith’s "Screw You, Ex-Husband" Gala was in full swing.

Venue: The 9th Circle of Tax Hell (renamed "Lilith’s Lounge")

Decor: Chandeliers of seized abacuses, napkins from shredded tax returns

Entertainment: Damned souls forced to perform "Single Ladies" with audit trails

Nishanth raised a glass of liquidated assets. "To the God of Taxes—may his spreadsheet cells always misalign!"

A scream cut through the music. A guest flickered, his tuxedo dissolving into gray static.

"THE VOID’S EARLY!" Zara yelled, Null-Hand flaring.

But it wasn’t the Void.

The glitching man solidified—into a sentient Monday with a briefcase and a thousand-yard stare.

"I am Monday Prime," it droned. "You erased my siblings. Now I erase you."

Zara’s Null-Hand sparked wildly. "I didn’t mean to unmake Tuesdays! It was an accident!"

Monday Prime snapped its fingers.

The dance floor became a cubicle farm

Champagne fountains flowed with lukewarm coffee

A time clock punched itself onto everyone’s wrists

[ DEBUFF: "SUNDAY SCARIES x 100" ]

[ EFFECT: Crippling existential dread + mandatory overtime ]

Thursday strode through the chaos, now clad in Void-white armor, her once-warm eyes empty.

"Monday is but a tool," she intoned. "The Void offers order. No more messy... weekends."

Lilith snarled. "You traded brunch for nothing?"

Thursday raised a hand—and cancelled Lilith’s hellfire quill.

"I traded chaos for purpose. The Void simplifies. It... cleanses."

Behind her, the Void’s static devoured a screaming imp.

Nishanth faced Monday Prime. "You want Tuesdays back? Fine. Take mine!"

He threw a crystallized Tuesday (stolen from a time vault).

Monday Prime caught it—and screamed.

The Tuesday resisted unmaking, flooding it with:

Taco cravings

Unfinished productivity guilt

The relentless passage of midweek time

"TOO... MUCH... MEANING!" Monday Prime shattered into confetti of forgotten meetings.

[ THREAT NEUTRALIZED: MONDAY PRIME ]

[ TUESDAYS RESTORED: 78% (TACOS STILL PENDING) ]

Lilith lunged at Thursday, barehanded. "You took my quill? I’ll take your face."

They grappled, tearing through:

A mountain of alimony checks

The God of Taxes’ prison cell (he waved sadly from behind bars)

A vault of "emotional damages"

Thursday pinned Lilith. "The Void is inevitable. Even you will be simplified."

Lilith spat in her void-white eye. "I’m a demon accountant. I invented complication."

She jammed a karaote tape into Thursday’s ear.

Britney Spears’ "Oops!... I Did It Again" blasted—and Thursday glitched violently.

[ THURSDAY: SYSTEM ERROR ]

[ VOID CONNECTION: INTERRUPTED ]

The gala lay in ruins. Thursday fled, but her parting words echoed:

"The Void comes for Baby Santa next. His tantrums are too chaotic to exist."

Nishanth helped Lilith up, her suit torn, eyes blazing.

"We need that coal back," he said.

Zara lifted her Null-Hand—now crackling with void-energy and golden sparks.

"Let’s go steal a toddler."

The portal dumped them into a cubist nightmare of rattles and rubber ducks. Gravity shifted every three seconds.

Pacifiers orbited like angry moons

Stuffed animals whispered tax loopholes

A river of warm milk flowed uphill into a black hole labeled "Naptime"

"Coal’s there!" Lilith pointed at a floating crib where Baby Santa slept, Void-static crackling around him.

"Guards at 3 o’clock," Seraphina growled.

Pacifier Prime hovered menacingly—a titanic binky with laser eyes. Its rattle-tentacles lashed:

"INTRUDERS DETECTED. INITIATE TIME-OUT PROTOCOL."

[ BATTLE START: TEAM CHAOS VS. INFANTILIZED COSMIC HORROR ]

Zara’s fused hand—gold and void—pulsed as she dodged laser-pacifiers.

"What happens if I... mix them?" She slammed her palm onto the nursery floor.

FWOOM!

Reality rebelled:

Gold coins turned to screaming chocolate

Void-static became glitter glue

Pacifier Prime squeaked helplessly as its lasers fired confetti

[ NEW POWER: "CHAOS ALCHEMY" ]

[ EFFECT: Fuse 2 concepts → random, catastrophic cuteness ]

Lilith ripped open a hell-portal to Tax Hell’s 9th Circle. The God of Taxes gaped from his cell.

"Liliantha? Is that—"

"Play dead, moron!" she hissed, teleporting him into the Void-infested crib.

The Void recoiled—recognizing prey.

"TAXES... COMPLICATIONS... DELETE."

Tendrils speared the God. He screamed as his audit trails dissolved.

"NOW!" Lilith lunged, snatching Baby Santa and the coal while the Void fed.

[ SACRIFICE ACCEPTED: GOD OF TAXES LIQUIDATED ]

[ LILITH’S KARMA: "YOU OWE ME ONE, ASSHOLE" ]

Baby Santa woke—and howled.The sound wasn’t a cry. It was a supernova of pure chaos:

Reality stitches frayed

Void tendrils turned to rainbow slime

The Diaper Dimension sneezed them back to the speakeasy

Zara stared at her now-normal hand. "Did... did we win?"

Nishanth held the coal—its glow dimming. "He bought time. Not victory."

Above them, the sky ripped open. The Void descended—not as static, but as a crystalline absence shaped like a blade.

"SIMPLIFICATION... IS MERCY."

[ FINAL BOSS UNLOCKED: "THE VOID’S TRUE EDGE" ]

The Last Smith materialized, anvil glowing.

"That blade unmade a thousand realms. You cannot fight it with steel."

Nishanth grinned. "Good thing I use gold."

He tossed the coal to Lilith. "Forge us something expensive."

The Smith’s hammer struck the coal. The speakeasy filled with primordial firelight as:

Lilith’s quill became a blazing ledger-sword

Seraphina’s armor gained runic diaper pins (divine protection)

Zara’s dagger shimmered with stolen void-light

[ ARTIFACTS FORGED: "WEAPONS OF ULTIMATE COMPLICATION" ]

The Void Blade hovered, singing a hymn of terrible silence.

"LAY DOWN YOUR CHAOS. EMBRACE NOTHING."

Nishanth raised his new gold-void revolvers.

"Sorry. I’ve got a prior engagement."

He cocked the hammers.

"With everything."

TO BE CONTINUED ....