CHAPTER 162: THE ARCHITECT OF THE VOID

Nox stood alone in the plaza. The ghosts were gone. The city was quiet.

From the wall, his companions watched him. Serian, Elisa, Vexia, Mela. They saw the boy who had just devoured his own past.

’He is not a monster,’ Serian thought. ’He is a wound that has learned to bite.’ She felt a deep, aching sadness for him. She also felt a profound sense of pride. ’He did not break. He is still here.’

Vexia’s mind was a storm of calculations. ’The psychic energy he just assimilated is immense. He has weaponized his own trauma. This is an unprecedented psychological and thaumaturgical event. I need to document this.’

Elisa just gripped her warhammer. ’He won. That’s what matters. That was one hell of a fight.’

Mela shivered. The cold she felt had nothing to do with the morning air. ’He ate them. He ate his own ghosts. What kind of being does that?’ She was terrified of him. She was also starting to think he was the only person who could possibly win this insane war.

Nox finally moved. He turned and looked up at them on the wall. The terrifying light in his eyes was gone, replaced by a simple, profound exhaustion. The Infernal Monarch armor flowed back under his skin, leaving him in his simple black clothes. He looked small again. He looked human.

He flickered, his body stuttering through space, and appeared on the battlements beside them.

"It’s over," he said. His voice was rough.

"Nox..." Serian started, but she did not know what to say.

"Are you alright?" Elisa asked, her voice unusually subdued.

"I’m tired." He looked at Vexia. "Was that Zeus?"

Vexia shook her head, her analytical mind clicking back into gear. "No. The psychic signature was different. Colder. More... personal. This was not an act of war from a god. This was a targeted attack from an individual."

"The Collector," Nox said. It was not a question. It was a statement.

"It is the most logical conclusion," Vexia agreed. "He is the only known entity with the resources and the inclination for such a specific, psychological assault. He was testing you. Trying to break you."

"Well, he failed," Nox said. He started to walk away, toward the courthouse spire. "Let’s get back. We’re wasting time."

The others exchanged a look, then followed. The mood was somber. The victory felt more like a scar than a triumph.

Later that day, Nox was in his throne room, staring at the map of the world. He had absorbed the psychic energy of the ghost army, and with it came a flood of fragmented memories, of pain and shame. But they were different now. They were not wounds anymore. They were data. They were fuel.

[Psychic Trauma Assimilated.]

[Your affinity with mental-status magic has been significantly increased.]

[Willpower stat has permanently increased by 50.]

’So that’s what that felt like,’ he thought. ’He tried to use my past to kill me. Instead, he just made me stronger. Thanks for the free power-up, you asshole.’

There was a knock on the door. "Come in."

Serian entered, carrying a tray with a steaming mug and a plate of food. She set it on the table beside him.

"You have not eaten all day."

"Wasn’t hungry."

She did not leave. She just stood there, watching him.

"What you did out there," she said finally, "it was terrifying."

"It was necessary."

"No, it was more than that. You faced... all of that. And you won. I do not think I could have done that."

"Yeah, you could have," he said, surprising himself. "You’d have just done it differently. You’d have tried to forgive them, or some other shiny princess stuff."

She smiled, a small, sad smile. "And you think that would have worked?"

"No," he said honestly. "It would have gotten you killed." He finally looked at her. "You’re not me, Serian. That’s a good thing. Don’t ever try to be."

Her smile widened, the sadness fading. "I will not." She hesitated for a moment. "Vexia has finished her analysis of the world’s Scripture. She has found something. She is calling a meeting of the council."

"Good," Nox said, standing up. "This city is starting to feel small. I’m ready for a change of scenery."

They walked into the main council chamber. Vexia, Elisa, and Mela were already there, gathered around the holographic map.

"The God-War is not just a battle for territory," Vexia began without preamble. "It is a battle for belief. For faith. The gods draw their power from their worshippers. The more followers they have, the stronger they become in this new world."

She zoomed in on the map, highlighting dozens of small, scattered locations. "These are what the Scripture calls ’Loci of Faith’. Ancient temples, holy sites, places where the veil between the mortal and divine worlds is thin. The pantheons are focusing their efforts on capturing these sites to amplify their power."

"So it’s a giant game of capture the flag," Elisa said. "But the flags are churches."

"Precisely," Vexia confirmed. "And our intelligence suggests that Olympus’s next major target is here." She pointed to a location deep in the northern mountains, a place marked with ancient, crumbling ruins. "The Sunken Temple of a forgotten sea god. It is a powerful locus, and it is currently undefended."

"Zeus will send one of his other children to claim it," Serian said. "Ares, perhaps? Or Athena?"

"Our sources say he is sending his son, the god of smithing and craft," Vexia replied. "Hephaestus."

Nox looked at the map. ’Hephaestus. The blacksmith god. The guy who makes all the other gods’ toys.’

[Analysis: The entity ’Hephaestus’ is a Tier-7 Divine Being,] Liona reported. [Primary attributes are creation and artifice. Combat effectiveness is variable, but his control over divine constructs is absolute. A direct assault on a fortified position under his control would be... inadvisable.]

"So we’re going to fight a god of robots," Nox said.

"We cannot fight him," Mela stated flatly. "He is a true god. We would be annihilated."

"We’re not going to fight him," Nox said, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. "We’re going to rob him."

They all stared at him.

"Hephaestus is a smith," Nox explained, the plan forming in his mind with a clean, cold clarity. "He makes things. Divine weapons. Divine armor. Things that can kill a god." He looked at his council. "Zeus wants the temple. Fine, he can have it. We’re going to let Hephaestus get there, set up his forge, and start making his new toys."

He leaned over the map, his eyes gleaming. "And then, while he’s busy working, we’re going to sneak in and steal everything that isn’t nailed down."

Elisa started to laugh, a loud, booming sound. "A heist! We’re going to rob the god of blacksmiths! I love it!"

"It is an insane, suicidal plan," Vexia said, but there was a flicker of excitement in her own eyes. "The temple will be guarded by his finest automatons. The security measures will be divine in nature."

"Good," Nox said. "It’d be boring if it was easy." He looked at his team. The doubt and fear from the morning were gone, replaced by a new, shared purpose. "Vexia, I need a blueprint of that temple. Mela, I want a full reconnaissance of the area. Elisa, you’re our battering ram. And Serian..." he paused, "you’re our key."

He turned and started to walk out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Serian asked.

"I’m going to my workshop," he said over his shoulder. "I have a few new toys of my own I need to build."

The war against the gods had begun. And the Void Monarch’s first move was not a battle. It was a heist.

---

Nox sealed the door to his Territory. The simple room of wood and stone dissolved around him, replaced by the endless, silent darkness of his own personal dimension. This was his sanctuary, his workshop, his kingdom of one.

’Liona, begin simulation,’ he thought.

A perfect, three-dimensional replica of the Sunken Temple, based on the ancient blueprints Vexia had provided, materialized in the void before him. It was a complex, multi-layered structure, a maze of flooded corridors, high-vaulted chambers, and a central, massive forge room.

’Okay, Hephaestus is a master builder,’ Nox mused, walking through the holographic temple. ’He’s not going to just walk in and turn on the lights. He’s going to bring his own security system.’

He began to populate the simulation. He added glowing, runic wards to the doorways, pressure plates to the floors, and dozens of patrol routes for the divine automatons he knew would be guarding the place.

For the next three days, while his army prepared and his companions trained, Nox did nothing but live inside that simulation. He ran it a thousand times, trying a hundred different approaches.

He tried brute force. In the simulation, he and Elisa charged the front gate. They were met with a legion of bronze bulls that breathed fire and were cut down in minutes. ’Inefficient.’

He tried stealth. He and Mela attempted to sneak in through the aqueducts. They bypassed the main guards but were caught by a network of sound-dampening wards that alerted a squad of golden eagles with razor-sharp wings. ’Too risky.’

He tried magic. He and Vexia attempted to disable the wards from a distance. They succeeded, but it triggered a failsafe that flooded the entire temple with boiling water. ’Messy.’

With every failure, he learned. He memorized the patrol routes of the automatons. He analyzed the energy signatures of the traps. He found the blind spots, the structural weaknesses, the hidden paths.

But most importantly, he began to build.

His Void Eater skill had given him more than just raw power; it had given him knowledge. He had consumed the skills of mages, of assassins, of summoners. He had the memory of their techniques, the ghost of their understanding, all stored within his core.

And in the absolute silence of his Territory, he began to practice.

He took the Puppet Strings skill he had consumed from the Puppet Master and began to weave it with his own void energy. He learned to create not just simple puppet strings, but complex webs of influence, invisible threads that could subtly alter a target’s perception, make them see something that wasn’t there, or miss something that was.

He took the Shadow Weaving skill from Elder Theron and pushed it to its limits. He learned to do more than just hide in the shadows; he learned to become a shadow, to fold his physical form into the darkness, to move unseen and unheard.

He was no longer just a king. He was becoming an architect, a master of the unseen arts, building the tools he would need for the impossible task ahead.

On the evening of the third day, he finally emerged from his Territory. He looked... the same. But there was a new, quiet confidence in his eyes, the calm assurance of a man who had already seen every possible outcome and had chosen the one that led to victory.

He walked into the council chamber where his companions were waiting. They all looked up, their faces a mixture of concern and anticipation.

"Well?" Elisa asked. "Did you figure out a way to punch a hole in the front door?"

"No," Nox said. He walked to the holographic map of the temple. "I figured out something better."

He began to speak, and they listened. He laid out his plan, not with the reckless arrogance of a brawler, but with the cold, precise logic of a master strategist. He explained the patrol routes, the locations of the traps, the exact timing they would need to follow.

He gave each of them a role, a specific task that played to their strengths. Elisa would not be a battering ram; she would be a surgical strike, taking out a key structural support at a precise moment. Mela would not be a sniper; she would be a saboteur, using her needles to deliver a specially-concocted alchemical agent that would temporarily disrupt the automatons’ power source. Vexia would not be providing magical support; she would be the core of the operation, creating a temporary, localized ’dead zone’ where the temple’s divine security systems would simply cease to exist for a full thirty seconds.

And Serian... Serian had the most important job of all.

"The forge," Nox explained, pointing to the heart of the temple. "It’s powered by a captured elemental, a being of pure, divine fire. Hephaestus will have it bound in chains of celestial bronze. Your light, your pure mana, is the only thing that can break those chains. You’re not just breaking into a vault, Serian. You’re staging a jailbreak."

They all just stared at him, the sheer, audacious complexity of his plan sinking in. It was a symphony of chaos, a perfectly timed, multi-layered heist that required every single one of them to perform their part flawlessly.

"This is insane," Mela said, her voice a mix of terror and excitement. "If any one of us is off by a single second, the entire plan fails."

"It won’t fail," Nox said, his voice calm.

"And what will you be doing while we’re all risking our necks?" Elisa asked, crossing her arms.

Nox just smiled. "Me?" he said. "I’m going to be the distraction."

He looked at the holographic temple, at the central forge where Hephaestus himself would be working, surrounded by his most powerful creations.

"I’m going to walk up to the front door, and I’m going to knock."