Chapter 257 — The Reasons of a Lord of Nothingness
Meanwhile.
In the realm of the primordial divinities.
Azarion faced Yzareth, her expression falsely relaxed, as if the situation did not concern the balance of all existence.
— I must admit, she said with a faint smile,
— I never thought the indomitable Lord of Nothingness
— would one day follow someone's orders.
Aetherion sighed immediately.
— Indomitable…
— Stop flattering him.
Yzareth crossed his arms, annoyed.
— I, Yzareth, follow no one's orders.
— If I listen to Kharas, it is only because I owe him.
A dry laugh burst behind them.
The Nameless Ancient stood there, doubled over.
— HAH!
— You? Indebted?
— The old man who got beaten by a twenty‑one‑year‑old kid?
— Absolute madness.
— And now you've shrunk too.
Yzareth grimaced.
— …Shut up.
— It was only because of the Judgment Sword that he got me.
— Without it, he never would have defeated me.
Azarion let out a small amused laugh.
— So…
— that's how you died,
— Lord of Nothingness.
Aetherion nodded, merciless.
— Seriously.
— What a ridiculous death.
— How could you get wrecked like that?
Yzareth looked away.
— …It was luck.
— Just luck.
— Luck? repeated the Nameless Ancient.
— I don't buy it.
— He dominated you from start to finish.
— He literally tore you apart.
— BASTARD!
— STOP DEFAMING MY IMAGE!
— That's NOT how it happened!
He paused, then clenched his teeth.
— And if I accepted to listen to Kharas…
— it's only because I owe him something.
Azarion tilted her head slightly.
— Explain.
Yzareth drew a deep breath.
— When I was erased…
— my essence was destroyed.
— I should have returned, reborn younger, as always.
His voice grew heavier.
— But when I opened my eyes…
— I was bound by chains.
— Or something resembling them.
He shivered.
— Around me…
— there was nothing.
— Well… nothing, but infinite.
— An endless abyss.
His fists clenched.
— Inside, there were other entities imprisoned.
— Architects.
— Primordial Gods.
— Ancient Gods.
— Primordial Angels.
— Primordial Demons.
— Things… even I could not name.
— There were also relics.
— Horrors.
— Remnants of dead stories.
The Nameless Ancient stopped smiling.
— When I asked where I was, Yzareth continued,
— the place itself answered me.
— A condensation of that realm formed before me.
— It introduced itself as the Abyss.
Aetherion frowned slightly.
— It told me I was in the Abyssal World.
— The Abyssal World of Vael.
Even Azarion lost her smile.
— I shuddered, admitted Yzareth.
— It told me that for reality…
— we no longer existed.
— That I was outside time.
— Outside space.
— Outside narration.
— Outside stories.
— Outside possibilities.
— Outside probabilities.
— Even you, the Creators,
— could not reach it.
A heavy silence fell.
— It told me I would remain there…
— for eternity.
— That no one would come to help me.
His voice trembled faintly.
— I thought I was finished.
Then…
— Someone appeared.
Azarion lifted her eyes.
— A human in appearance.
— Brown hair.
— Brown pupils.
— Black sclera.
— I thought it was the Abyss itself.
But no.
This being…
Ignored all the other prisoners.
As if they did not exist.
He came straight to me.
He told me he could help me.
When I asked how he had entered here…
He smiled.
And told me I didn't need to know.
— That he only needed me…
— for one thing.
His gaze darkened.
— He smiled.
— A smile…
— profoundly evil.
He drew one last breath.
— And I accepted.
That being… was Kharas.
Chapter 258 — The Smile After the Wound
Yzareth kept talking.
Explaining. Justifying. Defending himself.
In short, talking too much.
Azarion, silent until then, slowly raised her hand.
— The fight is over.
Silence fell.
Aetherion closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly.
— Yes…
— Zarion succeeded.
He reopened his eyes.
— He cut Kharas.
— Badly.
Yzareth frowned.
— And yet… he isn't dead?
Aetherion clenched his teeth.
— No.
— He smiled.
Azarion sighed softly.
— And when someone like him smiles after being wounded…
— it means he got what he wanted.
A shiver ran through the Realm of the Primordial Gods.
Not an aura. Not an attack.
Something worse.
A presence.
Space bent slightly.
Then he appeared.
Kharas.
Standing. Calm.
A gaping slash across his torso. Black blood flowing slowly… but he seemed in no hurry.
He was smiling.
The entire Realm shuddered.
— Ah… perfect timing, he said quietly.
— I thought I had just finished what I needed to do.
His hair, which had turned dark gray against Zarion, returned to its brown color.
His pupils, red only moments before, turned brown again.
His crushing aura almost entirely dissipated.
As if he had come only… to say hello.
— I got what I wanted.
Aetherion stepped forward. His gaze turned black.
— What are you scheming.
Kharas tilted his head slightly, almost offended.
— Scheming?
— Come now, father.
His tone was serene. Too serene.
— I'm not scheming anything.
— Don't worry.
Azarion crossed her arms.
— Don't take us for fools.
— I have no trust in you.
Kharas looked at her. Then smiled wider.
— Come now, mother…
— You break my heart.
Aetherion growled.
— Then explain.
— How did you access Vael's Abyssal World.
Silence.
Then Kharas shrugged.
— Oh.
— I was just passing through.
Azarion fixed her gaze on him.
— Liar.
Kharas placed a hand on his wounded chest.
— Really?
— You don't believe me, mother?
He sighed theatrically.
— I am deeply saddened.
He turned to Yzareth and the Nameless Ancient.
— Come.
— We're leaving.
— Wh— wait! protested Yzareth.
Too late.
They vanished.
Not a flight. Not a teleportation.
A sudden absence.
The Primordial Realm remained silent for a few seconds.
Aetherion clenched his fists.
— He tricked us.
Azarion closed her eyes.
— I'm afraid so.
She drew a slow breath.
— Let's go back.
Elsewhere.
In Kharas's Palace.
His black sclera returned to normal.
But his pupils… turned red.
He placed a hand on his torso.
The wound still pulsed.
— Hehehe…
His smile widened.
— Everything is unfolding exactly as planned.
Meanwhile…
Azarion and Aetherion returned to the Domain of Origins.
Unaware…
That the real game
was only just beginning.
Chapter 259 — What Remains When the Noise Fades
The Infinite Palace was silent.
Not peaceful silence. Not empty silence.
The silence after a mistake.
The destroyed layers did not close.
They remained, like gaping scars in the very structure of the Palace.
Some still floated, half‑existent.
Others were nothing but perfectly carved absences.
Zarion was alone.
Standing. At the center of the arena the Palace had created for him.
His aura had dissipated.
His blade of Primordial Void had already dematerialized.
He looked at his hand.
The wound had closed.
But the sensation remained.
He clenched his fingers.
— …
The Primordial Attendants did not dare speak.
They had returned.
Aligned.
Motionless.
But something had changed.
The Palace no longer looked at them the same way.
And neither did he.
Zarion slowly lifted his eyes toward the throne.
Then around.
Then toward the fractured layers behind him.
— He's gone… murmured Astra.
Zarion nodded.
— Yes.
Nyx frowned.
— But he lost.
Zarion did not answer immediately.
He took a few steps.
Each movement made the recently locked laws creak.
The Palace yielded.
Docile.
But tired.
— No, he said at last.
— He obtained something.
A shiver ran through the Attendants.
— What? asked Thalassa.
Zarion placed his hand on his chest.
Where the impact had struck.
Where the knife had touched.
— Me.
Silence.
— He didn't need to win.
— He didn't even need to survive long.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
— He only needed…
— a point of anchoring.
The Palace reacted.
A low vibration.
Almost a growl.
— He went too deep, said Eberus.
— And you let him.
Zarion opened his eyes.
— No.
— I stopped him.
A pause.
— But too late.
**Domain of Origins**
Azarion stopped abruptly.
Aetherion kept walking, then noticed she was no longer following.
— Azarion?
She did not answer.
Her gaze was fixed on the void.
Not the Primordial Void.
Something more abstract.
— …No.
Aetherion turned toward her.
— What?
Azarion drew a sharp breath.
— It wasn't the wound.
Aetherion frowned.
— What are you talking about?
She closed her eyes.
— Kharas wasn't trying to wound Zarion.
— Nor to provoke the Palace.
— Nor even to force us to intervene.
She opened her eyes.
— He was trying to be recognized by Zarion's system.
Aetherion froze.
— …Explain.
Azarion spoke slowly. Too slowly.
— The Infinite Palace responds only to Zarion.
— Even we… are considered external here.
She clenched her fists.
— But Kharas…
— forced a direct interaction.
— A validated collision.
— A real wound.
Aetherion felt a cold pressure crawl up his spine.
— You mean…
— Yes, said Azarion.
— For an instant…
— the Palace accepted him as a legitimate variable.
A heavy silence fell.
— He didn't break a defense, murmured Aetherion.
— He was recorded.
Azarion nodded slowly.
— Exactly.
She lowered her gaze.
— And when he smiled…
— it wasn't because he had lost.
Aetherion closed his eyes.
— It was because he had opened a door…
— that should never have existed.
Azarion whispered:
— And this time…
— it is no longer a game.
Chapter 260 — What Was Truly Engraved
Kharas's Palace was silent.
Not majestic. Not orderly.
Silent like a place where something waits to grow.
Yzareth leaned against a broken pillar. Arms crossed. Wings folded. Still a little vexed on principle.
The Nameless Ancient floated slightly above the ground, as if he had never truly touched reality.
At the center of the hall, Kharas sat. Calm. One leg crossed over the other.
His torso still bore the slash. Not closed. Not in a hurry to heal.
He was smiling.
— Well, said Yzareth.
— Are you going to explain, or are we supposed to applaud without understanding?
Kharas lifted his eyes. Amused.
— I love it when you pretend to be intelligent.
Yzareth growled.
— I'm listening.
The Nameless Ancient tilted his head slightly.
— The Creators sensed something.
— But not what they think.
Kharas nodded.
— Of course.
— Otherwise I'd already be erased.
— Or worse.
— Grounded by mother.
He chuckled to himself.
Then his gaze grew more serious. Not cold. Precise.
— I didn't want to win against Zarion.
— I couldn't.
— Not yet.
Yzareth frowned.
— Then why provoke a monster in his own palace?
Kharas raised a finger.
— Because the Infinite Palace… is not a place.
Silence.
— It's a system.
The Nameless Ancient froze.
— You mean…
— Yes, answered Kharas.
— An autonomous entity.
— A narrative mechanism.
— That recognizes,
— classifies,
— and authorizes.
He rose slowly.
— As long as I remained external, I did not exist for it.
He tapped the slash on his torso.
— This wound… it wasn't a defeat.
— It was a validation.
Yzareth felt something twist in his chest.
— Wait… you mean…
— I forced a real interaction.
— An accepted collision.
— An exchange of causality.
He smiled broadly.
— In simple language: the Palace recorded me.
A heavy silence fell.
— As a variable, murmured the Nameless Ancient.
— Not as an intruder.
Kharas snapped his fingers.
— Exactly.
Yzareth clenched his teeth.
— You're insane.
— Even the Creators wouldn't dare do that.
Kharas shrugged.
— They don't need to.
— I do.
He turned toward them.
— Next time I return there… the Palace will hesitate.
— Not for long, said the Ancient.
— A microsecond is enough, replied Kharas.
— Especially against Zarion.
He approached a balcony overlooking the Void.
— I didn't open a door.
— I left a trace.
Yzareth felt a cold shiver run through his wings.
— And now?
Kharas smiled. A slow, dangerous smile.
— Now… whatever he does… the Palace will remember me.
He raised his arms.
— And in a system as perfect as his…
He burst out laughing.
— …the slightest memory is a flaw.
Silence.
Then Yzareth exhaled.
— You're truly a problem.
Kharas turned back.
— Thank you.
— That was exactly the point.