Chapter 138: Noxara’s Turmoil
A month had passed since Liliana returned to the Topside, and during that same stretch of time, Akasha remained sealed deep within his evolution on Lucid Winter’s Peak.
Far from Kalpa, the world of Noxara had undergone a violent transformation of its own.
What had once been a tightly controlled lockdown under the Black Thorn now resembled open chaos.
Of the four continents that made up the world, two had already slipped completely free of the ruling grip.
The source of the disruption was no longer a mystery to those who paid attention—threads of fate had been cut, redirected, and rewritten with increasing frequency.
Every major incident traced back to the same blindfolded figure who had appeared four years earlier.
High in the upper atmosphere, nearly at the edge of the void that surrounded Noxara, a beautiful Dark Elven woman walked the suspended pathways of the main stronghold.
She had long black hair framing a face of perfect, cold composure, yet her eyes carried a different story—sharp calculation mixed with growing irritation.
She moved with unhurried grace through corridors of black stone and living shadow, the reddish-yellow light of the four suns filtering weakly through reinforced barriers.
"That white-haired insect," she murmured under her breath, the words barely audible.
"Whoever he is, he has been the root of every recent problem."
She stepped into a private chamber where three other Dark Elves already waited. The moment the door sealed behind her, the three bowed their heads.
"High Apostle Lane," the nearest one said.
All pantheons operated under strict hierarchies, not necessarily tied to official rank. However, more often than not, the higher one stood in the hierarchy, the greater their power tended to be.
At the very top, just beneath Supreme Gods or Rulers of the Pantheons, stood the High Apostles, followed in turn by Apostles and Generals.
These were beings who earned their place by tirelessly advancing the philosophy of their respective pantheon.
For the Black Thorn Pantheon—one of the five that formed the Accord of Assimilation—their creed centered on acquiring power not solely through open displays of force, but by hollowing a ’thing’ from within until nothing of its original self remained, then wearing its skin as their own.
And the four figures present here were the sole Apostles of the Black Thorn.
Lane’s expression remained calm.
"What have you three gathered?"
"We traced his first confirmed appearance to four years ago," the second answered.
"He arrived aboard a Divine-ranked starship. Beyond that, his movements have been deliberately difficult to follow.
We cannot yet determine the exact method, but every disruption aligns with the manipulation of fate itself."
Lane’s brow lifted slightly at the mention of a Divine-ranked vessel.
"Divine-ranked?" she mused. "I thought those were just myths..."
From what she knew, and from most accounts across the nearby Star Systems, the only rank above the original five was the God Rank.
A flicker of interest passed through her eyes before she gave a small nod and settled into the high-backed chair at the center of the room.
"Then it is time we send another message to the peasants of this world."
Her voice stayed even, almost conversational.
"Purchase Origin-ranked Fate Locks, Fate Trackers, and a Fate Curse.... Use them without delay."
The three Apostles understood the implications at once.
An Origin Fate Lock would render an entire region immune to fate manipulation unless the opposing force far exceeded the user’s strength.
The Tracker would reveal the location of anyone who attempted to alter fate the instant they did so.
The Curse would immediately drop the target’s total power output by six full tiers.
[-35,000 DP = Origin Ranked Artifact]
HUMMMM!!!
In a blink, thirty-five thousand Divinity Points drained from their shared reserves without a second thought.
Before them, three artifacts took shape in the air, each exuding a calm yet undeniable authority.
Lane observed the scene with a hint of approval. "Go."
Without another word, the three Dark Elves melted into twisting streams of shadow and darkness, disappearing from the chamber entirely.
Alone once more, High Apostle Lane rose and stepped toward the open balcony that overlooked the stronghold and the continents far below.
When she spoke, her voice carried across every threshold and communication array still loyal to the Black Throne.
"All Exemplars, go take care of the ants on those freed continents," she said, before adding a reminder.
"But remember to leave a fair share for our final assimilation."
----
High above the cracked red earth of Noxara, Krax flew at the head of a tight formation of ten God King Titans.
The four suns beat down with their usual feverish light, casting long shadows across the jagged mountain ranges that rose like broken teeth from the horizon.
The hot, metallic wind tugged at his long dark hair as his eyes remained fixed on a distant cluster of signatures only his system could reveal.
He had learned early that Noxara held only three camps where Titans still gathered.
That knowledge should have simplified everything.
Yet the month spent restoring the ten who had sworn loyalty to him—healing old injuries, slowly returning them to combat readiness—had revealed a new problem.
The remaining Titans of the other camps had vanished from their expected locations.
Only the system’s ability to track every Titan signature across the world had allowed him to follow the trail to this place.
’Now... it seems like they are all together,’ Krax thought, a cold satisfaction settling in his chest.
’That makes this simpler.’
---
BOOOOM!!!!!
BOOOOOM!!!!!
After a while, the mountainous region came into view beneath them.
Twenty Titans of varying sizes clashed across the broken slopes in a brutal, unrestrained melee of fists, affinity bursts, and raw physical power.
At the center of it all, seated upon a smaller peak as though it were a throne, a far larger Titan watched with open sadistic pleasure.
"Tsk, that’s not Von’El enough!," the seated giant called out, voice rolling across the mountains like distant thunder.
"I need to see more blood! More pain! GO AGAIN!"
Krax’s flight faltered for just a heartbeat, and in that instant, recognition struck him like a punch to the chest.
The shape of the shoulders, the particular cruelty in the smile, the way the giant sat as if the entire mountain range belonged to him—everything locked into place.
A savage, almost feral smile slowly spread across Krax’s face, sharp enough to cut.
"Second Brother."
The massive Titan lifted his head, having sensed their approach all along but choosing to ignore it.
Now, he regarded Krax’s transformed figure with a flicker of amusement that soured into contempt in an instant.
"So... this blemish of the Von’El has gotten stronger, huh?" he mused inwardly as the words slipped out.
"Haha, my little brother." The laugh that accompanied the words faded almost instantly.
"Tsk... weren’t you supposed to be on Kalpa, setting down the foundations?" His face twisted into open contempt.
"It seems like father’s instincts were spot on. Trusting a weakling like you was always a mistake."
Though Dune, the King of Titans, had given Krax the chance to leave their shared world, that didn’t mean he believed the words Krax had tried to sell him.
In truth, from the moment he sent Krax away, he had already begun setting his own plan into motion—one not only meant to strengthen the Titans but to make them powerful enough to stand against the Black Thorn.
It was well known that the Von’El had been exiled from Kalpa, but leaving the Star System entirely was simply impossible for them.
So, they remained hidden, tucked away within one of the five worlds under the control of a branch of the Black Thorn.
Yet, unlike the inhabitants of other worlds, they lived in secrecy to avoid falling under the Pantheon’s rule.
And seeing Krax—here, in a place he had no right to be—only confirmed their suspicion.
Slowly, he rose to his feet.
The simple act of rising made the air itself feel heavier.
HUMMMMMM!!!!!
He towered over every other Titan present, more than three hundred and fifty feet of pure physical presence.
In that instant, his Star Union power at Tier 18 erupted from his body, yet the pressure that slammed outward felt closer to Tier 36.
[Rage Affinity]
He tapped into one of his affinities, wrapping his fist in a thick, crimson aura that seemed to distort the air.
BOOOOOM!!!!!
In a single stride, he closed the gap and slammed his fist straight into Krax’s chest.
The impact was absolutely catastrophic.
Krax’s body folded around the fist for a fraction of a second before the force launched him across the sky like a broken meteor, a long trail of displaced air and blood following in his wake.
The ten Titans who had accompanied him watched in stunned silence.
Then, understanding the brutal simplicity of their race’s customs, they moved aside and waited, eyes fixed on the two Titans, ready to see which one would still be standing when the exchange finally ended.