Chapter 233: Ashborn & Nekron
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !
/-\
The void within the black ring was endless, a silence that was not peace, but stagnation. A place where nothing lived, nothing grew, and nothing moved unless Nekron willed it.
And yet... something stirred there.
Nekron’s empty sockets flickered. A presence had intruded. A shadow within his dominion that did not belong to him. His voice boomed.
"Who are you... and how did you manage to cross into this plane?"
The figure was formless at first, a silhouette in the distance. It walked with calm, unhurried steps, each one echoing across the void. Nekron’s scythe tightened in his grasp. He commanded the dark around him, but the void did not respond. Instead, it bent away from the intruder.
The figure emerged into sight.
Clad in jagged abyssal armor, black as night and cruelly edged with spikes, he was the monarch of shadows. His helm was crowned with violet fire, flaring upward in regal manner. In his gauntleted hands, he held a long, spectral shadow sword, pulsing with an energy both terrifying and eternal. Around him swirled an aura of violet flame and shadow.
For the first time in an eternity, Nekron’s hollow sockets widened almost in fear.
"...What are you?"
The figure’s voice rolled out, calm yet resonant, like a king upon his throne.
"I am Death... and I am here, for the hour of your end has come."
Nekron froze. Then, as if the very idea amused him that previous sense of dread was gone, laughter erupted from his hollow maw, booming through the plane.
"You? Kill me? I am the end. I am the silence after all things. What nonsense ... who dares stand in front of me like this?"
Ashborn advanced, his steps unshaken by the echoing derision. The void seemed to warp, compelled to draw nearer to his presence rather than recoil.
"You prattle of dominion, Nekron. Of ruling death. Yet you own nothing. You do not command the souls. You do not command the flesh you reanimate. You are no sovereign. You are a thief... a parasite of corpses."
Nekron snarled, raising his hand. Chains of black surged out of the void, writhing meant to bind, to crush. They lashed at Ashborn yet passed through him as though he were mist. The knight never broke stride.
Nekron’s sockets narrowed, unease filling his very existence.
"And what do you think you are, then? Some phantom construct of the Shadow Lantern? A trick, a reflection, nothing more!"
Ashborn paused, the violet flames of his helm flickering higher, a faint smile almost visible beneath the black steel.
"No. I am what you are not." He raised his blade, its violet light igniting the void like a funeral pyre. "I am death. I am eternal rest. I am terror. And I am your undoing."
Nekron bellowed, voice shaking the emptiness. "Insolent!" He lunged, his scythe tearing through the air, rending the void itself. The blade cleaved through Ashborn’s chest yet met no resistance. The Monarch did not even flinch. He was untouchable, incorporeal where Nekron’s dominion should have ruled absolute.
And then, in a single, regal motion, Ashborn thrust his sword forward.
The blade pierced through Nekron’s chest, sinking deep.
For the first time since the dawn of his existence, Nekron screamed in pain. His hollow sockets widened, disbelief overtaking him.
"H-how... how is this... possible?" His voice shook, fragmented, as the violet light devoured him from within. His knees buckled, his scythe faltering in his grasp. His form, once immutable, began to unravel.
Ashborn said nothing. He only watched. The silence of true death weighed heavier than words.
Nekron’s form disintegrated, fading into nothing. His sockets dimmed as he fell forward, collapsing into ash and shadow. His last sight was Ashborn’s burning violet gaze, endless, sovereign, and absolute.
And then Nekron was gone, truly gone.
The void itself trembled in his absence, as though recognizing a greater law had been enforced.
Ashborn stood alone, his sword still humming with the resonance of an eternal truth, Nekron had been touched by a death far greater than his own.
****
Arthur’s eyes fluttered open, heavy as stone. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was, only the ringing silence that replaced the chaos. His body ached in ways he couldn’t describe, exhaustion weighing on him like a mountain.
He shifted, realizing he was still kneeling, his hand pressed against the ground. Every movement burned like lead in his veins. Slowly, stubbornly, he forced himself upright, swaying on unsteady legs. His vision blurred, but the memory was clear, too clear.
Through another’s eyes, he had seen it.
’What the hell was that...’ Arthur muttered, his voice hoarse, breath ragged. His hands trembled as he recalled the figure, Ashborn, clad in abyssal armor, violet flames crowning his helm, a being regal and terrible in equal measure. He had seen what Ashborn did, felt it.
’Such power...’ Arthur whispered under his breath, still staring at the empty void around him. ’He actually killed Nekron...’
His gaze lowered, falling upon the withered husk of Black Hand. Once the shrieking herald of Nekron, now nothing more than a corpse, his ring reduced to ash that drifted and vanished in Ryut’s breeze.
Arthur exhaled, a long, tired sigh, and simply let himself fall back. His body hit the stone with a dull thud, his arms sprawling out. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of peace.
"As long as it’s over..." he muttered, almost to himself, a hint of relief bleeding into his tone.
But peace never lasted long.
A presence stirred close.
Arthur’s eyes snapped open. He felt it before he saw it, that weightless aura, that strange warmth against the cold of the void. A presence that was neither oppressive nor hostile, but it was still absolute. Eternal.
He turned his head to the right.
A figure approached, step by quiet step, and though her shape was small, her aura filled the endless dark as though it had been waiting for her all along.
Arthur’s jaw tightened. He knew who she was the moment she stepped into view. Her presence was unmistakable.
’This better not be because of what Ashborn just did...’ he thought grimly, his violet eyes narrowing.
The figure knelt beside him, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes black as the void but alive, endless, knowing. She smiled, softly, disarmingly, as if she had been meeting him here regularly all his life.
"Hi."
Arthur let out a low, tired groan, his expression twisting into irritation.
"Didi..." His tone carried both annoyance and recognition. He turned his head away slightly, muttering, "You’ve been slacking off."
Her laugh was light, amused at his tone rather than offended.
"Have I?" she teased, tilting her head.
Arthur cracked one eye open to glance at her again, his face still caught between annoyance and resignation.
"Yeah. You have."
Her smile softened, though her eyes, those endless black eyes remained the same, unblinking and calm.
"I know what you’re going to say Arthur," she began, her voice calm and certain. "How could this happen while I exist in this universe?"
Arthur remained silent, lips pressed in a thin line. She wasn’t wrong, that was the question he was going to ask.
She extended her hand to him, her pale fingers open, waiting. "I can explain it to you, if you want. While we head back to Earth."
For a long moment, Arthur didn’t move. He studied her, those eyes that held every beginning and every end. He saw no malice, no falsehood. Just inevitability.
Finally, with a weary sigh, Arthur lifted his own hand and clasped hers. Her touch was cool, but not cold.
Their eyes met.
"Alright."
Her smile widened, gentle but knowing, as she helped him to his feet.
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want