NOVEL WEB Chapter 78: Aftermath of the Crimson Pact
The skies above the ruined Obsidian Conclave turned a furious crimson, churning with mana storms as reality trembled under the pressure of unleashed power. The battle had ended, but the world would never be the same.
Valerian stood atop the shattered spire, cloaked in blood and arcane residue. His left gauntlet, once silver, now pulsed with molten red glyphs—runic burns left by the spell he should never have cast. The Forbidden Manifestation of Primordial Wrath. Each glyph told a story of sacrificed souls, of power stolen from the very fabric of existence.
Umbra coiled around him in an almost protective aura, whispering in low tongues only he could hear. The shadow entity had grown stronger, more corporeal since the ritual. Its whispers carried the weight of ancient prophecies and forgotten truths.
"The Seal is weakening," the Wraith King's voice echoed in his mind, each word dripping with malevolent satisfaction. "You've crossed the point of no return, heir of ruin. The gods themselves will mark you for what you've done."
Kael, breathing heavily, knelt beside the crumpled form of a wounded Selene. Her right shoulder had been pierced by a cursed bolt—one of the Archduke's final desperate attacks. She had pushed herself too far shielding Valerian during his ritual, her protective barriers shattering under the strain of containing forces that should have destroyed them all.
"Hold on, Selene. Just a little more," Kael muttered, his voice cracking with exhaustion and worry.
She gave a weak smile, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. "Still... not enough... to protect him from himself."
A tear rolled down Kael's cheek. He had seen too much death, too much sacrifice. The boy who had once dreamed of heroic adventures was gone, replaced by a man who understood the true cost of power.
Seraphina arrived moments later, her fiery wings fading as she knelt beside Selene, healing magic radiating from her palms in waves of golden light. The divine energy met the cursed wound and hissed like water on hot metal.
"Don't you dare die now, Selene," she said through clenched teeth, sweat beading on her forehead as she poured more power into the healing. "We're not finished arguing about your reckless protective instincts."
Valerian turned to them but said nothing. He could feel the eyes of thousands beyond the mountains. The capital was watching. The continent had awakened to the birth of something new and terrible. His transformation was complete, but the price... the price was still being calculated.
Behind him, Lira Veylin appeared, armor cracked, face bruised but still composed. She held up a bloodied scroll, its parchment glowing with residual magic.
"Your pact worked, Valerian. The blood signature linked to the Crimson Seal is reacting to you. The Ancient One slumbers again… for now."
Valerian's jaw tightened, his crimson eyes reflecting the dying light of the mana storms above.
"It's not over," he said, his voice carrying a weight that made the very air shiver. "This was only the lock on the door. The real threat lies inside."
Umbra stirred, its voice more frantic now, almost fearful. *You've awakened Them. The Sleeping Council. The First Architects. Even the gods will cower before what comes next.*
A system notification flashed before Valerian's eyes, visible only to him:
> [WARNING: Paradox Breach Detected]
> [Timeline Stability: 23% and falling]
> [The Origin Protocol has been triggered]
> [Prepare for Convergence]
---
**Three Days Later — Temple of Blacklight**
The ancient temple was reborn.
Once a ruin buried beneath the capital's crypts, the Temple of Blacklight now stood fully restored, a nexus of ancient magic and god-tier authority. Red sigils spun through the air like flaming constellations, each one a binding contract written in the language of creation itself. Massive statues of forgotten deities towered over kneeling acolytes—beings who had abandoned their old faiths to serve the new order.
In the center throne, carved from a single block of obsidian and inlaid with veins of crystallized blood, Valerian sat cloaked in regal black-and-crimson robes. The newly formed Crimson Pact—his elite faction—bowed before him.
The transformation of the temple had taken three days, but it felt like a lifetime. Reality itself had been reshaped, bent to accommodate the new power structure. The very stones hummed with contained energy, and the air tasted of ozone and possibility.
"Rise," Valerian commanded, his voice layered with system amplification that made it resonate through dimensions.
The warriors and spellcasters stood. Among them: Kael, now bearing a demonic blade stolen from the fallen Archduke of Hollowgrave, its edge still dripping with the essence of the void; Selene, arm in a sling, her expression colder than ever, marked by the burden of secrets she couldn't share; Seraphina, her aura tempered with divine steel, wings bearing new scars from battles fought in the name of their cause; and Lira, robed in the crest of Veylin—her loyalty now public, her family's ancient honor bound to this new path.
Kael stepped forward first, his boots echoing on the marble floor. "The nobles in the eastern regions refuse to acknowledge your authority. They're rallying under Duke Ferrand. Intelligence suggests they're seeking alliance with the Church of Eternal Light."
"I expected that," Valerian said, fingers tapping the armrest with deliberate rhythm. "Fear makes people predictable. Then we'll crush them first."
Lira interjected, her strategic mind already working. "No. Use them. Let them believe they have a chance. Draw their rebellion into the open. Then strike with the force of the system when they're fully committed."
Seraphina smirked, flame dancing around her fingertips. "And I'll enjoy turning their sanctuaries into ash. The Church has forgotten that angels can fall."
Valerian's lips curved in a smile that held no warmth.
"Very well," he said. "We'll begin Operation Crimson Tide. But first—"
Just then, the system window blinked before his eyes, larger and more urgent than any he'd seen before.
> [CRITICAL SYSTEM UPDATE: The Ancient Protocol has been activated.]
> [World Tier has shifted: Level 5 Threat Detected.]
> [Reality Breach: 67% Complete]
> [WARNING: Your original self has awakened.]
> [Time until Convergence: 72 hours]
Valerian's eyes narrowed. The chamber fell silent as the aura around him flared violently, cracks appearing in the marble floor beneath his throne.
"...Alex."
The name hung in the air like a curse, and everyone present felt the temperature drop ten degrees.
---
**Meanwhile — Outer Realm, Forgotten Spiral**
A chamber that should not exist shimmered into view, hidden between the folds of creation in a space that existed outside of time and causality. Inside, a man in obsidian armor stood surrounded by shards of broken timelines—fragments of realities that had been discarded, rewritten, or simply forgotten.
His face was the mirror of Valerian—but older, colder, more calculating. Where Valerian bore the scars of struggle and growth, this man's features were perfect, unmarked by doubt or pain. This was Alex, the Original, the Architect of the system that had shaped countless worlds.
He opened his hand, revealing a dying star pulsing with stolen fate, its light flickering with the dreams of billions.
"So," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of eons, "my other half has finally caught up. The experiment proceeds as calculated."
Behind him, twelve cloaked figures bowed. The Apostles of Reversal—entities pulled from discarded timelines, beings who had been erased from existence but retained their consciousness and power. They were his instruments, his weapons against the chaos of uncontrolled destiny.
"Shall we move, Origin?" one asked, its voice a harmony of all the voices it had once possessed.
Alex—the true Origin—smiled, and reality shuddered.
"Yes. Begin the Eclipse Protocol. This timeline ends soon. But first, let's see how far my shadow has grown."
He gestured, and the space around them began to shift. The Forgotten Spiral was moving, approaching the prime reality like a cancer seeking to consume healthy tissue.
"Send the Harbingers," Alex commanded. "Let them know what's coming."
---
**Back at the Temple**
Valerian staggered from the system flash, his enhanced senses reeling from the information overload. A cold dread seeped into his bones—not fear of death, but something far worse. The fear of meaninglessness. The possibility that everything he had fought for, everything he had sacrificed, was nothing more than a predetermined script.
His companions noticed the change immediately.
Selene asked, her voice carefully controlled, "What did the system say?"
Valerian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rose from his throne, his movements deliberate and controlled despite the chaos in his mind.
"We prepare for war. Not against rebels. Not against monsters."
He looked them in the eyes, one by one, seeing the trust they placed in him, the loyalty they had sworn.
"But against the one who created me."
Kael tensed, his hand moving instinctively to his demonic blade. "You mean—"
"Yes. My original self. The Architect of the system. The one who wrote the code. The one who knew I'd rebel."
Lira gasped, her strategic mind immediately grasping the implications. "That's not possible. The system... it's infinite. It spans universes."
Valerian turned to Umbra, who now hovered in full wraith form behind him, more solid than ever before.
"It is," the shadow being rasped, its voice carrying echoes of ancient terror. "The Creator split his soul to avoid fate. You were the part destined to fight it. The part that would grow, learn, suffer, and ultimately challenge the original design."
Seraphina's hand trembled, divine fire flickering around her fingers. "Then everything—the battles, the tombs, the system evolutions—they were... scripted?"
Valerian's expression hardened, but something deeper flickered in his eyes—determination born of absolute defiance.
"Maybe they were. But I've broken scripts before."
A beat of silence filled the chamber, heavy with the weight of revelation.
Then he raised his hand, issuing a system-wide announcement that would reach every corner of the known world.
> [CRIMSON PACT GLOBAL BROADCAST:]
> "To the rulers, rebels, gods, and beasts—
> A war unlike any before is coming.
> The very nature of existence is at stake.
> You stand with me… or you fall with him."
---
**Capital City — Royal Council**
In the grand chamber of the High Council, nobles watched in horror as the system broadcast flooded every crystal screen, every scrying mirror, every method of communication across the continent.
The Grand Magister dropped his goblet, wine spreading across ancient tomes like blood across snow.
"He's challenging the original Creator?! This is beyond blasphemy—this is cosmic treason!"
Duke Ferrand snarled, his face purple with rage. "He's insane. This will bring the wrath of the gods down upon us all!"
But High Priestess Meridia, a secret supporter of the Crimson Pact, only smiled, her eyes glowing with prophetic insight.
"No," she whispered. "This is destiny. The wheel turns, and empires rise and fall. But this... this is the moment when the wheel itself is forged anew."
Around the chamber, other nobles began to whisper, to plot, to choose sides. The world was dividing, and neutrality was no longer an option.
---
**Outside the Temple – Hours Later** Part of a series hosted by My Virtual Library Empire (MV&LEMP&YR).
Valerian stood on the obsidian balcony, alone with his thoughts. Lightning crackled above, and the war drums of fate had begun their eternal rhythm. The stars themselves seemed to pulse with anticipation.
Below, the city sprawled in all directions, millions of lives continuing their daily routines, unaware that the very foundations of reality were about to shift.
Selene appeared behind him, her steps slow and deliberate.
"I told you I would follow you even to madness."
Valerian didn't turn, his gaze fixed on the horizon where dark clouds gathered. "Then prepare. Because this madness will shake the stars from their courses."
She reached for his hand, her touch warm against his cold skin. "Just don't forget who you are."
He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of infinite possibilities pressing down upon him.
"I haven't," he said.
"But I'm afraid… he has."
Suddenly, the sky cracked like glass. A rift opened, revealing a glimpse of the Forgotten Spiral approaching like a celestial predator. From it, twelve shadows detached themselves, descending toward the temple with malevolent purpose.
"The Harbingers," Umbra hissed. "They come to deliver his message."
Valerian's eyes snapped open, burning with crimson fire. "Then let them come. I have a message of my own."
But as the first Harbinger touched down on the temple steps, Valerian felt something that chilled him to the bone. The entity's presence was familiar—not just similar to his own power, but identical. As if it were cast from the same mold.
"Greetings, shadow," the Harbinger spoke, its voice a perfect echo of Valerian's own. "The Origin sends his regards. He wants you to know—"
The Harbinger paused, tilting its head as if listening to an unheard voice.
"He wants you to know that he's proud of how far you've come. And he's sorry for what happens next."
The temple began to shake as reality itself started to bend. The Convergence was beginning, and with it, the final test of everything Valerian had become.
In the distance, more rifts opened. The war between Original and Shadow was about to begin, and the fate of all existence hung in the balance.
But as Valerian prepared to face his creator, one question burned in his mind: In a battle between the creator and the created, who could truly claim the right to determine the fate of infinite worlds?
The answer would reshape the very meaning of existence itself.