CHAPTER 126: RISE AND FALL

Yxthul’s silhouette flickered at the fringe of Nolan’s vision.

Then it disappeared.

A moment later, it reappeared, then vanished again—an endless relay of presence and absence that stretched time beyond its limits.

Nolan caught himself blinking, mesmerized:

Yxthul, fading in and out like a ghost in dimming light.

For each glimpse, a flash of scaled skin, briny aura, predatory eyes; then emptiness.

On the other end, Yxthul’s view mirrored Nolan’s: an intermittently vivid image of a lone man in a villa’s courtyard, arms crossed, watching, waiting, unnerving in his stillness.

This back-and-forth dislocation—blip, void, blip, void—went on for what felt like minutes, each party half-appearing, half-hidden, as though the veil between them was frail, tearing with every pulse of mana and dread.

Nolan’s heart hammered. He knew his own system’s reach was faltering, cracking under the weight of Yxthul’s rising power.

If the creature could connect at all, what else would bleed across? What malicious intent?

Nolan’s voice trembled: "What... what is happening?"

Yxthul’s answer came, and though unspoken, its tone seethed. It began low, a rumble of scorn and irritation:

YOU. YOU! Echoed so that Nolan felt the syllables scrape against his ribs. Then louder, more furious: I’M TALKING TO YOU, HUMAN! DON’T FAKE IGNORANCE!

The creature’s anger reverberated across the thin bridge between them.

Nolan started to speak—to lie—but the truth would betray him. I have no fucking idea what’s happening, he thought, heart pounding in guilt.

He swallowed. Held the lie. continued with counterfeit confidence: "You... you tell me. What’s—what’s going on across your world? You can see me, I can see you. Didn’t think your mana would reach so far."

Yxthul’s presence flickered. DON’T PLAY GAMES WITH ME! His aura surged upward—Nolan sensed the beast’s mana climbing again, fueled by his knights’ deaths.

Your illusions won’t fool me this time!

The water-born horror spat the words across the void, his tentacles twitching with contempt.

Nolan clenched his fists. He needed a strategy—to push back, stall, survive. His eyes flicked to the deserted forest that blurred behind Yxthul’s image, sensing every fluctuation of the creature’s power.

Then realization struck:

Yxthul’s mana rose and fell in direct correlation with the battlefield.

When his mana shot upward, his spawn were killing knights.

When it dipped, someone—or something else—was killing those same spawn.

A flicker of hope.

Nolan urged his gaze outward, scanning the forest scene for movement. Not Yxthul—he remained half-out-of-phase—but the fleeing knights themselves.

Some stumbled, consciences screaming; others shouted to each other, breath ragged. One urged a comrade on: "Come on, you can’t stop now!" Another whispered, panicked: "Did you see him? That... thing... it came from the carriage!"

They ran in odd waves—brief clusters racing ahead, others lagging behind, tripping over roots, breathing unevenly. Some screamed for order; others fell silent, jaws clenched, running blindly on instinct.

A burly knight panted, gripping his sword hilt like a lifeline: "We can’t outpace them—we need to circle back. If we loop run, we’ll lose them..." Another voice barked:

"Who’ll lead? We rot if we stay scattered." And so they skittered through the trees, desperate, terrified, some limping, others flat-out sprinting.

Nolan leaned forward, eyes wide. No familiar figures—no Glazed, no Calien, none of the students he’d sent to guard the rear. His heart sank. His system flickered again, Yxthul’s image reappearing, trembling with impatience, as though threatening retaliation.

ENOUGH! came Yxthul’s voice like a hammer. DON’T IGNORE ME, HUMAN! ANSWER ME!

Nolan swallowed.

The sprawl of fleeing knights blurred before him—each one a straw of data in his peripheral. He realized too late how small they looked from this angle, how easy it would be for a predator to pick off the wounded, the stragglers. Panic pressed at the base of his spine. He had to do—something.

"Yxthul..." his voice cracked but held. "Your mana pulses... it drops when your spawn die. But I don’t know who’s landing the hits. I—look."

The image cut off. The forest scene vanished as Yxthul’s full form reasserted itself, unnaturally solid, towering, the shifting void collapsed into one monstrous presence.

For a breath-length, Nolan stared, frozen. Then the creature leaned forward, his maw twisting in a sneer.

SO YOU SEE IT! Yxthul roared. SOMEONE INTERVENES. HAH! My own spawn—killed by some human intervention!

Nolan realized the connection was deeper than simple sight—it tapped into his system, feeding off his fear, amplifying it. He knew he had to buy time—push the bond to fracture before Yxthul could lock onto his mind fully.

"N...not me," Nolan lied, voice righteous. "I’m here in Silver Blade City. Not on that battlefield. Someone else—someone in the carriage—maybe they know how to kill your spawn. Maybe they’re stronger than we thought..."

The flicker returned—half-deleted forest, half-solid demon. Yxthul narrowed his eyes to bright pools of fury.

YOU LIE! he hissed. NO MORTAL CAN ESTABLISH THAT CONNECTION. NOT WITHOUT SACRIFICE...

Nolan inhaled sharply. The lie was closer to truth than fantasy. He’d glimpsed the students later, after they slaughtered spawn in the same manner. It fit. He had to hold the lie.

"I don’t know," Nolan whispered. "But I can’t—can’t leave it be. I’ll figure it out. I’ll—pull them back. Your spawn stop dying, your mana stops surging. Everyone stops paying attention."

Yxthul’s form seems to convulse. His mana dropped precipitously; Nolan felt the oppressive heat recede. The forest scene reappeared, dimmer, jagged—like a broken tape being replayed.

...your bravado is irritating, human. Yxthul’s words came clipped. But you’ve bought yourself a moment. I see... disoriented knights. Fear and confusion. Perhaps... you speak truth. But know this—if those who interfere with my business stand between me and my spawn, I will kill them. Not tomorrow, not later—I will kill them now.

The image cut away completely.

Nolan found himself back in the villa, alone in the courtyard, heart racing, sweat pearling at his temples.

The surreal half-connection snapped away, leaving only the pounding echo in his chest: He knows. They all know.

He stood motionless, replaying the scene and Yxthul’s words.

The forest, the knights scattered, the students wielding Nolan’s techniques, killing spawn with lethal precision—he hadn’t seen it clearly in the heat of battle. But now he realized: it had to be them. His students.

Fear washed over him with ice water clarity:

Yxthul had just confirmed an invisible bond—a predator picking up the trail of his newly minted prodigies.

Yxthul had said now he would kill them. The voice echoed inside Nolan’s skull: maybe it was him in the carriage, maybe it was them—but whoever it is, they’re next.

He ground his teeth. Anger, adrenaline, guilt, determination coalesced into a fierce resolve. He couldn’t hide anymore.

He couldn’t feign ignorance. He couldn’t let Yxthul murder his students and his allies, or let the dungeon guardian child, his daughter, perish.

The villa walls were silent.

The moon hung high above. Nolan inhaled deeply, pushing down the fear.

Outside, the night breezes whispered. Somewhere, chaos waited. He tightened his cloak and walked toward the villa’s main gate, shoulders braced for a confrontation he knew had to come.

He’d no idea what would happen next—but he knew he would stand for them, for Lirazel, for the new life he’d helped usher in.

If the predator wanted a dance, he’d give it one. If Yxthul wanted war, he’d have a war. And maybe, just maybe, the lone man with an "Internet cheat" had a chance to do more than just survive. He had to.

Nolan stepped onward, into the darkness, heart pounding: "I won’t let them die—on my watch."