The air within the Eidolon Fold, no longer a stagnant vacuum, was now a nascent atmosphere that carried a faint, coppery scent of raw energy. Before Auron, a world-breach gate shimmered into being, its surface a swirling vortex of deep violet and midnight blue, reflecting a sky of liquid amethyst. He watched from his newly-formed Observation Throne, a command seat woven from solidified threads of Lux, its surface cool and hard beneath his fingertips. Through a panoramic window in the void, he saw Nyxthra, his first creation, step through the breach. Her form was a ripple of shadow against the alien beauty of Oras IX, a divine monarchy where Oracles wielded predictive magic and psychic control over time-laced rituals. This was his first truly divine challenge, and his mind hummed with cold, analytical curiosity.
"Let's see if foresight can stop a blade already in your throat," Auron murmured to the void. His tone was not cruel, but a quiet, almost academic, assessment. He was testing the limits of his system, pitting the unyielding precision of his creation against the ethereal, ephemeral power of a seer. He had spent years in the slums, observing and predicting the actions of desperate men for a few scraps of food. Now, he was applying that same cold logic to the machinations of a god. The Oracle's power was fascinating, a tapestry of possible timelines woven into a cohesive whole. But a tapestry, no matter how intricate, could still be torn.
The Oracle's sanctuary was The Temple of the Black Veil, a towering structure of flawless, translucent glass suspended in the amethyst sky. It was not built of stone or metal, but of crystallized timelines, each pane a window into a different potential future. It floated amidst a network of crystalline platforms that formed a bridge in the moonlight, its translucent walls humming with psychic energy. Auron watched as Nyxthra, a silent ghost, flowed across this bridge. She moved with a preternatural grace, her form a blur in the dim light. The air was thick with the psychic "echoes" of potential futures, shimmering like ghosts, each one a potential timeline, a warning. One of them, a vision of her own death, a flash of her blade shattering and her form dissolving, almost brushed against her. But Nyxthra, her programming flawless, shifted a fractional movement that was both precise and impossible, and the echo passed through the space she had just occupied, a phantom passing through a phantom.
The temple itself was a living organism, a cosmic alarm system. Its crystal surfaces were attuned to the vibrations of life, remembering every footstep, every whispered prayer. Its very breath was an ethereal song, and any disruption would be a cacophonous scream, alerting the entire divine court to her presence. But Nyxthra left no trace. Her movements were so silent, so perfectly adapted to the environment, that the temple sang its low, humming song, completely unaware of the deadly intruder within its walls. She moved through the corridors, a shadow within shadows, her form dissolving and reforming with each new layer of psychic gloom.
Inside the inner sanctum, the Black-Veiled Oracle, a silver-eyed, androgynous figure, knelt within a blood circle etched into the glass floor. The air was heavy with the scent of ozone and something older, more primordial. They whispered timelines into a bowl of ash, their hands a blur of motion as they manipulated fate, weaving the future like a tapestry. They were so engrossed in their work, so confident in their own foresight, that they never felt the shift in the air, the coldness that seeped into their sacred space. Suddenly, the Oracle gasped, the serene mask cracking with a flicker of genuine shock. The bowl of ash before them swirled violently, a vortex of gray and black that revealed a vision of what was to come.
"I see… her," they whispered, their voice a thread of sound in the profound silence of the sanctum. The Oracle looked up, their silver eyes wide with fear and incomprehension, just as Nyxthra stepped from the deepest shadow, a matte black blade orbiting beside her like a loyal satellite. The sight of her was not a threat, but a paradox. The Oracle had seen all possible futures, but never one where a force could exist outside of time itself.
"I accept your vision," Nyxthra's voice, a soft hum, echoed in the chamber. It was a statement of fact, not defiance. She existed outside of time, her purpose absolute.
The Oracle's hands shot up, attempting to raise a time-freeze ward, to lock the moment in place and save themselves. But Nyxthra flickered forward, a blur of motion too fast for even a prophet to anticipate. The blade, an extension of her purpose, shot forward. A single, flawless motion. The tip pierced the Oracle's eye, the crystal structure of her blade shattering the divine magic within. The Oracle gasped, a final, ragged breath, and whispered one last, terrifying prediction:
"He… cannot be stopped…"
The Oracle's body dissolved into a shower of Lux, a magnificent display of pure energy that was instantly and cleanly absorbed into Auron's system. Back in the Eidolon Fold, Auron's form was still and composed. The interface before him erupted with a cascade of brilliant blue light, a confirmation of success.
[CONTRACT COMPLETE] +EIGHT THOUSAND LUX ACQUIRED. +THREE THOUSAND BONUS: FIRST DIVINE KILL. UNLOCK: HIGH-CLASS CREATION TIER I UNLOCK: EIDOLON FOLD ENVIRONMENTAL UPGRADE – ATMOSPHERIC CONTROL
The numbers on the Lux counter soared to eleven thousand two hundred. Auron watched with a cold, almost detached fascination as the void around him responded to the influx of power. The black glass walls and floor shimmered, and a faint, gentle warmth filled the air. A soft wind, the first breath of a new world, stirred in the emptiness, carrying the scent of something clean and new. Motes of light, like dust in sunlight, drifted on the unseen currents, illuminating the vastness. The Fold was no longer a lifeless cube, but a place with atmosphere, with the first hint of weather. It breathed like a real world, and its breath was his Lux.
"Now it breathes like a real world," Auron murmured, his gaze sweeping across his evolving domain. He had not rushed the upgrades, but had crafted them with the same meticulous care he had put into his blueprints. He opened the interface, using some of the new Lux to design a second assassin prototype. This one was an artillery type, a ranged specialist designed to complement Nyxthra's close-quarter capabilities. He would call her "Talon," a weapon designed to strike from a distance, where an oracle's magic could not reach. He expanded the Fold's return gate, allowing multiple creations to return at once, a testament to his burgeoning ambition. Finally, he created his Observation Throne, a command seat woven from threads of Lux and embedded with the system's energy, allowing him to view and control all contracts at once. It was a throne of power, a seat from which he would command his growing empire.
As Nyxthra returned, her form materializing from a ripple in the air, she knelt silently before him. The moment she did, the system flickered with an unexpected surge of energy.
[NOTICE: PALE CONTRACT EXPOSURE INCREASED – MULTIPLE REALMS BROADCASTING "CONTRACT OF THE VEIL" AS PROPHECY] Response: +47 PENDING CONTRACT OFFERS.
Auron watched the list of new contracts cascade across his view, each one a plea, a demand, a desperate hope from a different world. He saw contracts for assassinating corrupt kings, eliminating rampaging beasts, and even destroying entire worlds. He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of cold amusement in his eyes.
"So the dead prophet had followers," he said, his voice flat, his thoughts already on the new contracts. "Let them come."
The words hung in the air, a chilling prelude to the coming storm. The first divine assassination had sent shockwaves across the multiverse, creating a ripple effect of chaos and fear. Auron Kael's reputation, once nonexistent, was now being forged in the blood of gods, and the universe would never be the same.