World Awakening: The Legendary Player-Chapter 132: Sub Mission complete

Nox looked up, and a new interface filled his vision.

[Assigning system name based on user’s preferences...]

[The Name Liona Ha been Chosen]

[Designation: Nox]

[Level: 35]

[Synchronization Rate: 100%]

[Core: Fragment of a Dead God (Void-Touched)]

[Strength: 162]

[Agility: 72]

[Stamina: 95]

[Endurance: 157]

[Perception: 90]

[Luck: 32]

[Unallocated Stat Points: 215]

---

The god chat exploded.

[Trickster God Hermes IV] Hold up, rewind that. "Fragment of a Dead God"? Did I read that right?

[Athena, Goddess of Wisdom & Strategy] That is not possible. My archives contain no record of a fallen deity whose power aligns with the void. This is an unknown variable.

[Hades, God of the Underworld] It is not one of mine. I would know if one of my pantheon had been shattered.

[Lord of Carnage] I don’t care who it was. The kid is walking around with a piece of a dead god in his chest. A dead god! This just went from a sideshow to the main event!

[Auraelia, Goddess of Resilient Sparks] He’s... changing. What is happening to him?! 😰

--- 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

"What have you done?!" the Grave Lord demanded, its confidence gone.

Nox didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. It was clear from the look in his eyes, this monster was about to get an ass whopping.

The Grave Lord took an involuntary step back, the green light in its sockets flickering with something that looked like fear. "Abomination... what are you?"

Nox didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The question was irrelevant. He flexed his newly armored hands, the black, chitinous plates shifting with a faint grinding sound. The power thrumming through him was clean, efficient, and overwhelming. The chaotic static of his old skills was gone, replaced by the deep, silent hum of a perfectly tuned engine of destruction.

"No matter," the Grave Lord hissed, regaining a sliver of its composure. It pointed the pulsing black orb at Nox. "You are still just one being. My army will grind you to dust!"

It slammed the butt of its staff on the ground, and the skeletons in the chamber, which had been frozen in confusion, renewed their attack. They swarmed him from all sides, a clattering tide of bone and rusty metal.

In the suffocating darkness, Serian and Mela could only hear the renewed chaos.

"They are overwhelming him!" Mela shouted, her voice tight with a frustration that was quickly turning into panic.

But the sounds that followed were not the sounds of a struggle. They were the sounds of a harvest.

Nox didn’t move to defend. A skeletal champion swung its massive axe in a decapitating arc. He didn’t block it. He didn’t dodge. The void energy clinging to his skin simply thickened, a solid black pauldron growing from his shoulder a microsecond before impact.

CLANG.

The rusty axe shattered against the void-forged armor, the skeletal champion stumbling back in shock.

Nox’s arm shot out, his fingers wrapping around the skeleton’s throat. He didn’t squeeze. The void energy from his hand simply flowed into the creature, and it dissolved into a handful of black dust that was instantly absorbed into his own shadowy aura.

There was no thought. No "activate skill" command. There was only instinct.

He moved.

He didn’t run. He didn’t Void Step. He flickered. Reality seemed to stutter around him, and in one instant he was surrounded, the next he was in the center of the mob, his body a whirlwind of absolute destruction. His armored fists didn’t just break bones; they annihilated them, turning skeletons to dust with every blow. He grabbed a sword from a falling soldier, and as his fingers closed around the hilt, black, smoky energy crawled up the blade, reforging the pitted metal into a sharp, gleaming edge of pure darkness.

The necromancer, a being of ancient power, watched from its throne and felt the primal terror of a mouse realizing the shadow overhead is not a cloud, but the wing of a hawk.

"Impossible..." it whispered.

It abandoned its army and pointed its staff at Nox, a bolt of sickly green, soul-draining energy shooting across the chamber.

The bolt hit Nox square in the back. And did nothing. The shroud of void energy around him simply drank the spell, a faint purple ripple the only sign it had ever existed.

Nox flickered again.

He was no longer in the middle of the mob. He was standing directly in front of the throne, his new void-forged sword held loosely in his hand. The Grave Lord was so close Nox could see the ancient, terrified scratches on its polished bones.

The Grave lord tried to teleport, to phase into the shadows that were its domain. But the shadows recoiled from Nox, his very presence a poison to the Grave Lord’s power. There was nowhere to run.

"Your soul is beautiful," Nox said, his voice a dead, flat echo of the monster’s own words. "I think I will keep it."

He didn’t swing his sword. He didn’t punch. He just reached out his free hand and placed it on the Grave Lord’s chest.

And the void... drank.

The grave lord let out a silent, psychic scream that vibrated through the very stones of the tomb. The green light in its eyes flared violently, then was snuffed out as the void energy from Nox’s hand consumed it, pulling its ancient magic, its memories, its very existence into himself. The tattered robes fell to the throne, empty, and the iron crown and glowing orb clattered to the floor.

The moment their master was gone, every remaining skeleton in the chamber froze, then collapsed into lifeless piles of bone.

The magical darkness in the room evaporated, revealing the carnage. Serian and Mela stood blinking in the sudden light, their eyes wide with shock. The chamber was littered with bone dust and shattered weapons. And in the center, standing before the empty throne, was Nox.

Or what was left of him.

He was taller, his body wrapped in jagged, black armor that seemed to be a part of his own skin. His eyes were still those terrifying black voids with purple starlight burning within.

For the first time since she had met him, Mela had absolutely nothing sharp, sarcastic, or angry to say. Her entire vocabulary had been reduced to a single, silent "what."

Serian just stared, her heart pounding with a mixture of terror and awe. "Nox...?"

He turned to look at them, and the monster, the avatar of the void, seemed to recede. The black armor flowed back into his skin. His eyes faded back to their normal, cold gray. He swayed on his feet, the immense power leaving him as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a deep, hollowing exhaustion. He dismissed the Brutalizers, his hands feeling strangely light.

A new, sleek black interface filled his vision.

[PRIMARY DIRECTIVE FULFILLED.]

[Evolution Successful. System V.3.0 "Liona" now fully integrated.]

[Congratulations, Player. You have survived.]

---

[Dungeon Mission Updated!]

[Sub-Objective 2: Defeat the Grave Lord - COMPLETE!]

[Sub-Objective 3: Destroy the Orb of Illusions - COMPLETE!]

[Main Objective: Clear the Lich’s Spire - PATH UNLOCKED.]

[Dungeon Clear Rewards Pending...]

He looked at the empty robes on the throne, then down at his own hands. "Well," he said, his voice his own again, though it sounded rough. "That was new." He then collapsed to one knee, a wave of dizziness washing over him. The transformation had taken a toll.

Serian rushed to his side, her fear momentarily forgotten. "Are you alright? What happened to you?"

He just shook his head, a wry, tired smile on his face. "I think... I think I just leveled up."