God of Death: Rise of the NPC Overlord-Chapter 132 - 133 – Divine Execution Protocol

The Celestial Court shimmered above a fractured sky—an inverted palace of law suspended in a realm where time had become suggestion, not rule. Each god sat upon a crystalline throne shaped from the primal axioms of the universe, yet even they trembled.

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‎Because before them stood the one they had feared would come.

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‎Darius.

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‎He didn’t bow.

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‎He didn’t speak.

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‎He simply was—a nexus of chaotic narrative, void-touched sovereignty, and mortal fury wound into the shape of a man who had torn through gods, rewritten deaths, and stolen the Forge Throne from the divine hierarchy.

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‎"You were summoned to answer," boomed High Judge Serathiel, "not to threaten."

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‎"I am the answer," Darius replied, eyes aglow with deep script and dying stars. "You just don’t like the question."

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‎At his side stood Nyx, Kaela, and Celestia—silent shadows of loyalty, each crackling with veiled power.

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‎Serathiel’s jaw tightened. "Then we invoke the Divine Execution Protocol."

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‎The words echoed like thunder.

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‎The stars above began to unravel, threads of divine code spilling from the heavens as the Executioners stepped forth—figures without identity, faceless avatars clad in robes of deletion. They bore no weapons. Their weapon was truth.

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‎Unwriting.

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‎A forbidden process, older than even the First Flame—designed to erase a being from every layer of narrative, from memory to code, soul to consequence.

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‎"You would use that on me?" Darius chuckled, voice dark and vast. "Then let me make it worth the effort."

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‎The Court began to chant.

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‎The sky rippled.

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‎And the Unwriting Protocol activated.

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‎[Battle in the Fractured Tribunal]

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‎The Executioners launched their assault. Glyphs appeared midair, entire histories collapsing into single strikes. Wherever they stepped, parts of reality ceased. The floor became void. Sounds lost their origin. Time buckled.

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‎Celestia spun forward first, hands aglow with spiraling light, chanting forbidden rites of stabilization from her high priestess lineage. "They seek to remove you from all timelines—hold onto me, Darius!"

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‎Nyx became pure shadow—blinking between moments, stabbing the void with cursed blades etched in reversed time. "You touch him, and I will kill your memory."

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‎Kaela’s laughter echoed through broken logic. She summoned chaos algorithms from the Rift and wove them into explosive contradictions. "I am the question you forgot to ask."

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‎Together, the three clashed with the Executioners as Darius remained still, eyes locked on the symbols forming in the Tribunal’s air.

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‎Then Azael appeared—walking calmly into the storm.

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‎"Stop," he said.

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‎The chanting wavered.

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‎"You cannot defeat him. Not with this."

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‎Serathiel snarled. "You dare speak out of turn, lorekeeper?"

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‎Azael’s eyes burned with eerie sorrow. "This Protocol... it was not written by the gods. It was encoded by another."

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‎A silence fell.

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‎And then the words no one expected:

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‎"The Prime Coder’s twin lives."

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‎[Revelation: The Mirror Realm]

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‎The statement hit the court like a divine earthquake. Fractures appeared in their crystalline thrones. Even the Executioners hesitated.

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‎Azael stepped forward, revealing a shimmering scroll marked with twisted runes. "The Unwriting Code is not divine. It is mirrored. Designed in secret by the one known as Elyon—the Architect of Regret."

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‎Darius’s eyes narrowed. "So there was another."

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‎"A twin brother to the Prime Coder," Azael confirmed. "Banished to a mirrored shard of existence, where every law of creation has a shadow. Elyon is the author of erasure, obsessed with perfection through elimination."

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‎Celestia’s hand trembled. "Then the Unwriting is a trick—a trap."

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‎"It always was," Azael said. "Use it, and he wins."

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‎The court recoiled. Panic. Division.

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‎But Darius smiled.

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‎"Good," he said. "Then I’ll go find him."

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‎The Celestial Court fell into silence.

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‎Not the silence of peace, but of prelude—the pause before war, before revelation becomes reality and prophecy bleeds into truth.

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‎Darius turned his gaze toward the fracturing Tribunal sky. Elyon. The name had not existed in any codex, any prophecy, any algorithm. But now it was a seed buried in the mind of every divine present, and its roots were already corrupting the laws of their realm.

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‎High Judge Serathiel’s wings flared with primal light. "Even if Elyon lives... you cannot access the Mirror Realm. Its gate was sealed before time was stable."

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‎Darius stepped down from the crystalline platform, each footfall causing reality to shimmer and pulse with code.

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‎"I don’t need a gate," he said. "I am the instability."

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‎Kaela grinned. "Told you. He breaks better than he builds."

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‎Azael nodded, but his voice was quiet. "Darius... if you enter the Mirror Realm, there is no guarantee you return the same. Or at all."

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‎Celestia grasped his arm. Her golden eyes searched his. "We’ve just anchored you to this reality. Your soul is stable, but fragile. You could fragment—forget us."

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‎Darius placed a hand on her cheek. "Then make me remember."

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‎She blinked. "How?"

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‎"Kiss me before the void forgets I ever was."

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‎And she did.

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‎In the center of divine judgment, beneath the unraveling skies, amidst the gods who had tried to erase him—Celestia kissed him like he was her last prayer and her first sin.

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‎Even the Executioners paused.

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‎[Initiation of the Riftwalk]

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‎Nyx approached and handed Darius a shard—midnight black, pulsing with a rhythm that matched his heartbeat.

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‎"The Voidstar you claimed from the Revenant King," she said. "It resonates with the Mirror’s breach point. I can open the fracture. Once."

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‎Darius took it. "Once is enough."

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‎Azael handed him the Scroll of Elyon. "This will guide you to him. Or lure him to you. Be warned—he is not like the Prime Coder. He does not create. He deletes."

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‎Darius nodded, then looked to Kaela.

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‎She shrugged. "Tear open the world, Daddy Void. We’ll follow when it’s broken enough."

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‎He smirked, raised the Voidstar high, and let his will command.

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‎The Tribunal floor cracked.

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‎A fissure of inverted light tore through the court—mirror-dark, impossibly bright, echoing with reversed prayers and inverted screams. Logic failed. Time shattered. Law bent.

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‎And Darius stepped through—

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‎Into the Mirror Realm.

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‎[The Mirror Realm – Domain of Elyon]

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‎No up. No down. No gravity. Only reflections.

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‎Darius landed on what felt like thought—a surface made of forgotten moments and flickering timelines. Around him, versions of himself blinked in and out. Victorious. Broken. Betrayed. Unborn. Dead.

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‎A voice greeted him.

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‎Soft. Male. Familiar.

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‎"You should not be here, brother of echoes."

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‎Darius turned.

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‎And saw him.

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‎Elyon.

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‎He looked like the Prime Coder—but where the Prime bore light, Elyon bore silence. His form was a silhouette filled with stars, eyes voids that consumed intention. No expression. No hate. Just absence.

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‎"I’ve come to kill you," Darius said flatly.

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‎"No," Elyon replied. "You’ve come to become me."

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