Champion Of Lust: Gods Conquer's Harem Paradise!

Chapter 229 The Death Deity's Champion!

An endless, all-consuming void stretched out—vast and unyielding. It was a place where light vanished on contact, swallowed whole without a trace, leaving only an infinite expanse of pure, impenetrable black. Silence clung to the air, thick and unnerving, as if even sound feared to intrude upon the stillness.

There was no up or down, no beginning or end—only the sensation of being drawn in, deeper and deeper, by a darkness that seemed to stretch beyond comprehension, patient and absolute in its hunger.

Lady Eternal Void sat in the vast nothingness, her silhouette barely visible, merging seamlessly into the endless dark.

The void itself seemed to pulse with her, responding to each shift in her being, almost as though her presence held it in a reverent thrall. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open—two dark abysses that seemed to draw in any light, deep and unyielding, like a chasm of no return for anything caught within.

The void around her swirled and twisted, bending not as though under control but in outright worship. She was no mere wielder of the void; she was its sovereign, the supreme being to whom the darkness itself bowed.

"And so it begins," her voice echoed in the endless silence, dripping with anticipation.

Her gaze turned, settling toward the distant labyrinth that lay hidden within the mortal realm, where Pyris and Alera moved unknowingly toward an ancient awakening. Her lips curled into a subtle smile, a hint of amusement tainted with malice.

"And that greedy bastard had to push her into awakening. Watch as they tear you to threads!"

The sense of doom that filled the void was palpable. Her words hung, a grim prophecy in the darkness. Whatever would unfold for the young boy and girl was already set in motion, but first, the insufferable mist would pay dearly for daring to disrupt her delicate web of plans.

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The Death Immortal's Lair

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In one of the Immortal Realms, in a certain quiet realm lay a desolate peak, nearly scraping the heavens with its towering height.

The mountain was shrouded in swirling death and darkness energy, thick and tangible, snaking across the landscape like it was alive, consuming every trace of life that dared to linger. No plant, no creature, not even the smallest flicker of energy from life dared exist in this barren place; it was as though the mountain itself fed on their very essence, an insatiable hunger for oblivion.

Dark miasma seeped from fissures in the cracked ground, rising in twisting tendrils, creeping with an intent that felt almost malevolent. The snow, normally a pale sheen on any peak, lay dark as obsidian, more like shattered glass than snow.

Near the summit, a gaping hole yawned menacingly, a jagged wound in the mountaintop, as if it had been stabbed with a spear that could pierce even an immortal's defenses. The abyss within stretched deeper than any eye could follow, an unending descent into the heart of the mountain, and the surrounding snow seemed to recoil, never daring to settle too close to that ominous mouth.

A low, guttural "Mmmmmm..." echoed from deep within the mountain.

The sound reverberated through the empty air, a sinister inhale that seemed to suck the death energy surrounding the peak inward.

Moments later, dark, thick steam billowed up from the depths, hot yet cold as the grave, condensing in the frigid air before scalding the snow it touched. Then, in an instant, the snow hardened again, dark and untouched, as though scorched by an invisible flame.

The inhales continued, rhythmic and inevitable, an ancient cadence that no living thing could withstand. The entire mountain, wreathed in an aura of death, felt like hell itself without flames—a chaotic vortex of despair, of swirling darkness, and a silence that seemed to smother every inch of the terrain.

At the base of the mountain, a massive maw of a cave opened, stretching deep into the blackened heart of the mountain. The cavern walls were pitch-dark, void of any trace of life or warmth, the stone appearing as though it had never been touched by light. Inside the core of the cave, a vast expanse lay open, as dark and foreboding as the mountain above. It connected seamlessly with the gaping hole above, drawing death energy down like a never-ending funnel into the very core of the mountain.

In the center of this cavern sat an obsidian throne, ancient and terrifying, carved from the pure essence of death itself. Its surface seemed to absorb all light, a dark sheen that made it look as though it was crafted from the shadows of a thousand lifetimes, the throne of a god of death.

The energy rising from it was both alive and unyielding, a grim sentinel that commanded respect—and fear—from anything near it.

From this throne, the same dark, suffocating steam rose, a whisper of death in every waft, each tendril adding to the surrounding power. And there, seated upon it, a shadowed figure loomed.

A voice, colder than the dark around it, echoed through the chamber. {Inform the Death Deity. Their Champion is ready.} Immediately after she spoke shadows stirred and figures flew out to carry the orders.

The voice from the throne had been deep, reverberating through the cavern with a weight that seemed to bear down on the entire mountain itself. To any mortal who dared to listen, it would feel like the crushing force of a thousand lifetimes, each syllable bearing an oppressive, ancient weight.

Only a rare few could withstand its enormity; fewer still would grasp the meaning beneath its ominous tone.

Veiled in a shroud of death and darkness mana, the figure on the throne remained hidden, an indistinct shape draped in an aura so thick it seemed to absorb the very essence of the cave. But even if the speaker's features were masked, their aura was unmistakable.

This was the same voice that had presided over Alera's birth, the same presence that had watched with grim satisfaction as chaos unfurled in the wake of her arrival into the world.

The figure seated upon the obsidian throne, cloaked in a shroud of death and darkness, enigmatic, belonged the same voice that had witnessed Alera's birth, a cataclysmic event that had shattered the little girl's world and was now poised to play a pivotal role in her destiny.

Like the Eternal Void, this entity had been watching Alera, but with a far more sinister intent.

The delayed awakening, a consequence of the Eternal Void's seal, had bought Alera precious time. Without it, she would have either been consumed by the darkness or fallen prey to this malevolent force. However, the inevitable...

Just as Eternal Void had been tracking Alera's journey the seal of her had staved off this day, repressing the latent energy within Alera, keeping her nature held in check but not anymore.

Without it, her essence might have crumbled long ago, either overtaken by the consuming force of her own death and shadow magic or ensnared by the unseen threads woven by the being who now sat in quiet anticipation.

But fate, a silent architect, had only delayed the inevitable. The presence from the throne sensed it, the subtle flare of energy, the delicate crack in Eternal Void's seal as the labyrinth's twisted power threatened to bring forth Alera's true nature.

Soon, her dormant power would rise, and whatever force Pyris could wield would be put to the test.

Perhaps this was the stage, set for a cosmic clash, a battle between Death, Shadow, Void and Darkness, a battlebetween Death, Annihilation and Destruction.

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Who's ready for Immortal and gods's descent? Lemme see power stones and gifts for that!