CHAPTER 159: THE GOD-WAR’S PRELUDE

The announcement in the sky hung there for a full minute, a silent, burning declaration of war, before fading away, leaving a stunned and terrified world in its wake. The fragile peace that had settled over Portentia shattered like glass.

Nox and Serian rushed back to the throne room, where the rest of their council was already gathering, their faces a mixture of shock and grim resolve.

"The God-War," Vexia said, her voice a low, tight whisper. She brought up a massive, holographic map of the world in the center of the room. "The Scripture is no longer hiding its intent. This is not a trial. This is an invasion."

The map was covered in new, ominous symbols. In the far east, over the lands where ancient empires once stood, a massive, golden sun icon pulsed. To the west, across the ocean, a symbol of a snarling wolf and a raven flickered. And in the heavens directly above them, a new, terrifying icon had appeared: a single, all-seeing eye, wreathed in lightning.

"The old pantheons," Vexia explained, her fingers flying across the holographic interface. "The Egyptian, the Norse, the Greek... they are not just watching anymore. They are choosing sides. They are descending."

"So the gods are just bigger players in a bigger game," Elisa grunted, her hand tight on her warhammer. "Doesn’t matter. We’ll fight them, too."

"We cannot fight a god, Elisa," Mela said, her usual bravado gone, replaced by a deep, instinctual fear. "They are beings of absolute power. We are nothing to them."

"She is right," Serian said, her voice grave. "This is a war we cannot win with strength alone."

They all looked at Nox. He was just standing there, his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on the holographic map.

’So, they’re finally getting off the sidelines,’ he thought, a cold, analytical calm settling over him. ’The gods who were just commentators are now active players. This complicates things.’

[Analysis: The ’God-War’ scenario represents a fundamental shift in the primary conflict,] Liona’s voice reported. [The objective is no longer player-versus-player competition, but factional warfare on a global scale. The ’Gods’ will act as faction leaders, recruiting or conquering players to serve in their armies.]

’So we either pick a side or get crushed in the middle.’

"We do not have to pick a side," Nox said out loud, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

They all stared at him.

"What are you talking about?" Vexia asked. "Neutrality is not an option in a war of gods. They will see us as an unclaimed resource, a prize to be fought over."

"I’m not talking about neutrality," Nox said, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. He looked at the map, at the glowing icons of the ancient pantheons. "I’m talking about becoming our own side."

He tapped the map, and a new icon appeared, right over the city of Portentia. It was not a sun or a wolf. It was a single, black, stylized eye, with a purple star burning in its center. The symbol of the Void Monarch.

"They want to play king of the mountain?" he said, his voice a low, challenging growl. "Fine. But they’re forgetting one thing." He looked at his companions, at his council. "This is our mountain."

The sheer, unadulterated arrogance of his declaration hung in the air. He was not just a king of a city anymore. He was declaring himself a god, a rival to the ancient powers that were descending upon their world.

Elisa was the first to react. She let out a loud, whooping laugh and slammed her warhammer on the floor. "Hell yes! To hell with the old gods! We’ll make our own!"

Mela just stared, her mind struggling to comprehend the scale of his ambition. ’He’s not just insane,’ she thought. ’He’s magnificent.’

Vexia looked at the new icon on her map, then at Nox. A slow, calculating smile touched her lips. "A new pantheon," she mused. "The Pantheon of the Void. It is a strategically bold, almost suicidal move. I approve."

Serian just looked at him, her heart filled with a terrifying, exhilarating pride. "What is your first decree, my king?"

Nox looked at the map, at the storm that was gathering on their borders. "My first decree," he said, his voice ringing with the absolute authority of a god, "is that we are going to get very, very busy."

The world was preparing for a war of gods. But in a small, forgotten city on the coast, a new god was preparing for war against the world. The age of players was over. The age of Nox had just begun.

And as the world trembled on the brink of a new, divine war, a single, quiet thought echoed in the silent, clear space of Nox’s mind.

’I’m definitely going to need more coffee for this.’

---

The days that followed were a blur of frantic, desperate preparation. The world outside Portentia was in chaos. The old gods had descended, their power warping the very fabric of reality. Great pyramids of shimmering gold rose from the sands of the east, while in the north, the icy winds of Fimbulwinter began to blow.

Players all over the world were forced to choose a side. They flocked to the banners of Zeus, of Odin, of Ra, seeking the protection of a divine patron in the new, terrifying world.

But in Portentia, there was only one banner. The black flag of the Void Monarch.

Nox did not wait for the war to come to him. He took the fight to the world.

He led his army, now a seasoned, battle-hardened force, out of the city. He did not march on the strongholds of the gods. He went for the spaces in between. He went for the unclaimed territories, the dungeons that had been ignored, the resources that were left unguarded.

He was not just a king anymore. He was a scavenger, a predator picking at the edges of the great war, growing his own power while the great pantheons were busy posturing.

He cleared a dozen dungeons in a month, his Void Eater skill consuming the power of their bosses, his stats skyrocketing. He absorbed so many skills, so much raw data, that Liona, his System, had to upgrade itself again just to handle the influx.

He found the lost armories of forgotten kingdoms, outfitting his army with weapons that could harm a god. He found the hidden libraries of ancient mages, Vexia devouring their knowledge, her rune magic becoming a force that could rewrite the laws of physics.

He was not just building an army; he was building a legend.

And the world began to take notice.

They called him the Ghost King, the Shadow Monarch, the Third Power. He was the wild card, the anomaly who refused to play by the rules of the God-War.

The gods, in their golden halls and icy palaces, began to speak his name, not with contempt, but with a new, grudging respect. And with a growing sense of unease.

One day, as they made camp in the shadow of a colossal, petrified forest, a lone figure approached their lines. It was a man, dressed in the simple, grey robes of a messenger. But he carried the symbol of the Olympians, a golden lightning bolt.

"I bring a message for the one who calls himself Nox," the messenger announced, his voice ringing with a divine authority. "From the King of Olympus himself."

Nox, who was sitting by the fire, cleaning a piece of his armor, didn’t even look up. "I’m listening."

"Lord Zeus has taken notice of your... accomplishments," the messenger said, his tone dripping with condescension. "He is a benevolent god. He is willing to offer you a place in his pantheon. You will be granted the rank of a minor deity. You will command a legion of his armies. You will have a seat at his table. All you must do is swear your fealty to him, and surrender the Feselian princess to his care."

Nox stopped cleaning his armor. He slowly looked up, his eyes, burning with a cold, purple fire, meeting the messenger’s arrogant gaze.

"Tell your ’king’," Nox said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, "that I don’t take orders from anyone."

He stood up, his full, terrifying height seeming to blot out the sun. "And tell him," he continued, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face, "that if he wants my princess, or my kingdom, he can come and try to take them himself."

He raised his scepter, Regulus, and the purple gem on its tip began to pulse with a dark, hungry light. "But he should know," Nox finished, his voice dropping to a promise, "that my table only has one seat."

The messenger stumbled back, the divine authority in his posture gone, replaced by a pure, primal fear. He turned and fled, the Void Monarch’s challenge echoing in his ears.

Serian, who had watched the entire exchange, just walked over and stood beside Nox. "You just declared war on the King of the Gods."

"No," Nox said, looking out at the vast, war-torn world. "I just reminded him who the real king is."

The God-War had found him. And he was ready.