Nihil lay unconscious in the small crater he'd created, his trembling body slowly rewoven by `Null Reconstruction`. Elf rangers stood in a loose semicircle around him, bows raised but undrawn, expressions a mix of awe, fear, and disbelief. They had witnessed a single entity drive back a Demon General and his legion alone.

Princess Lyraelle was the first to step forward, her twin blades still dripping black demon blood. She stopped a few paces from Nihil, sharp eyes assessing every detail—the horrific cycle of suffering and regeneration, the absolute exhaustion radiating even from his unconscious form.

"By the stars," she whispered to Elara Moonveil, who stood beside her, a data tablet recording every energy fluctuation. "What... *is* he?"

Before Elara could answer with her scientific terminology, Lord Elarion Arcanum stepped forward, face pale with fury. "He is a catastrophe! A desecration! You all saw it! That power... it is not of this world! It is poison given form!"

He pointed a trembling finger at Nihil. "He said it himself—he sides with no one! Today he fought demons because it suited him. Tomorrow, he might erase us all for the same reason! We must destroy him now, while he is weak!"

Some younger, more dogmatic rangers seemed to agree, their grips tightening on their bows.

"No," Lyraelle stated, her firm voice cutting through the tension. "He just saved this valley. He saved all our lives. Ancient Elf law is clear: we owe him a life-debt. Killing him now, in this state, would be dishonorable and cowardly."

"Honor?!" Elarion sneered. "You speak of honor when facing a singularity of destruction? Princess, your sentimentality will be the end of our realm!"

"And your fear will be the end of our honor, Lord Elarion," Lyraelle retorted coldly.

Elara, seeing the debate escalate, intervened. "You are both wrong," she said, her voice calm and analytical. "You are trying to apply concepts of morality—honor, sin—to something beyond them. You are trying to measure a storm with a ruler."

She looked at Elarion. "You want to destroy him. First question: *Can* you? The power you witnessed erased an Abyssal artifact. His regeneration uses no life magic. What happens if you fail? What happens if you merely anger him?"

She turned to Lyraelle. "And you want to honor him. First question: How can you honor what you do not understand? He is not an ally. He is a force of nature temporarily aligned with you."

An awkward silence fell. Elara's cold logic had pierced the heart of their arguments.

"What do we do, then?" Lyraelle finally asked.

"We treat him for what he is," Elara answered. "A supremely powerful and dangerous anomaly. We cannot kill him. We cannot release him. So, we take him back."

"To Silverwood Spire?" Elarion asked, horrified. "You want to bring this plague into our heartwood?"

"Precisely because of that," Elara countered. "There, under Queen Aerwyna's watch and the full might of your Archmages, you might have a chance to contain him. Study him. And most importantly, control him. Leaving him here, uncontrolled and alone, is a far greater risk."

The decision was made. Lyraelle signaled her rangers. They fashioned a makeshift stretcher from living wood and carefully lifted Nihil's unconscious body. As they touched him, they flinched at the unnatural cold radiating from his skin.

As they prepared to leave, Elara approached the spot where Kael'tharr's sword had vanished. She scanned it with a small sensor. "Fascinating. No energy residue. No trace. Just... absence. As if the sword never existed. `Law of Unmaking` in its purest form."

The return journey to Silverwood Spire was silent. The Elves carried their new "weapon"—a weapon they feared more than the enemy it had just defeated.

**In the Wild Northern Mountains...**

Darius val-Luminar stood on a snow-covered ridge, watching a burning Lycan village below. He had just won a brutal battle against the Bloodmoon tribe, forcing **Chief Fenris Ironmaw** to retreat. He should feel victorious.

A communications officer ran up to him, face pale. "Commander! Urgent message from Imperial intelligence!"

Darius took the crystal. The report was brief and horrifying: A battle on the Elf border. An S-Tier Demon General. And how the anomaly he knew as "Nihil"—presumed dead—had emerged and single-handedly driven back an entire demon legion.

Darius dropped the crystal into the snow. His victory here... felt like child's play. While he struggled against "primitive" tribes, his rival, thought vanished, was defeating Demon Generals. Complex envy, awe, and hatred warred within him. "He... is alive," he whispered to the cold wind.

**In a Solara Magna Safehouse...**

Velka Nocturne received the same report through Duke Alaric's network. She was planning her next move to infiltrate the Life Church monastery.

Reading the report, she felt no relief. She felt terror. Her brother wasn't hiding. He wasn't safe. He was on another warfront, surrounded by new allies who might be as dangerous as his enemies.

"He draws too much attention," she told Alaric. "Every victory makes him a bigger target. The Inquisition, the Cult, my father... they will all know he lives now. They will come for him."

"True," Alaric said grimly. "Which means we must accelerate our plans. We must gain enough leverage to shield him before the whole world decides to hunt him."

**At Dimensional Guild Headquarters, Aethel...**

The High Council received fragmented field reports from Elara Moonveil. They contained battle data from Echo Vale, including analysis of the `Edict of the Void: Zero State`.

Archmages and engineers stared at the data in utter shock.

"This... violates every known arcane thermodynamic law," said one elderly councilor. "Drawing energy from absolute nothingness... paid with physical damage... He isn't just an anomaly. He is a new law of physics."

"Elara is too close to him," said another. "Her obsession endangers us all. We must send a team to 'extract' her—with or without her consent."

A schism was forming within the world's most rational faction.

**Back at Silverwood Spire...**

Nihil awoke in a room that seemed grown, not built. He was in the Healing Spire. He could feel invisible webs of natural magic energy enveloping the room, pressing down on his power. A beautiful cage.

Princess Lyraelle entered, carrying a tray of strange fruits. "You're awake," she said. "You slept for three days."

"What happened?" Nihil asked.

"You've become the hottest debate topic in a thousand years," Lyraelle replied. "The Council of Elders is split. Elarion wants you sealed. I want you as our ally. And the Queen... she is still weighing."

Just then, the door opened again. Lord Elarion entered, flanked by two Elf Archmages radiating immense power.

"Time for talk is over, Princess," Elarion declared, his cold eyes fixed on Nihil. "The Queen may be sentimental, but the Arcanum Council is not. We have voted. This anomaly is too dangerous to remain free."

The energy webs in the room tightened.

"We will not kill you," Elarion continued with a cruel smile. "That would be dishonorable. Instead, we will do something far more... educational. We will dissect your power, piece by piece. We will learn your secrets, anomaly. One way... or another."

Nihil now faced a new threat. Not swords or claws. But the scalpels of mages intent on dissecting his soul.

The unseen webs of natural magic energy tightened around Nihil, feeling like barbed wire pressing against his soul. The two Archmages flanking Elarion raised their hands, ancient runes beginning to glow on their palms, ready to initiate an invasive containment ritual.

"Enough, Elarion!" Princess Lyraelle's voice cut sharply through the tension, her twin blades partially drawn—a shocking breach of etiquette before the Queen. The flash of steel was a clear statement. "He is a guest under my protection and a prisoner of war. He is not a specimen for your laboratory."

"He is a plague!" Elarion retorted, his handsome face distorted by hatred. "Every second he remains here, he defiles our sacred soil! Queen, you must see reason! We cannot take this risk!"

Queen Aerwyna, who had observed silently from her throne, finally raised her hand. A small gesture, yet enough to silence the hall. Heavy stillness fell, broken only by the faint hum of the Archmages' magic.

"Elarion," she said, her ancient voice weary. "Your fear is justified. The power he displayed in the vale is something unseen since the Dawn War." She turned to Lyraelle. "And you, my daughter. Your honor is commendable. He did save many lives."

The Queen finally looked at Nihil, her violet eyes seeming to pierce through layers of his being. "But neither answers the true question."

"You," she addressed Nihil. "You walked into our war. You defeated a Demon General. You wield power to erase existence. Yet you declare allegiance to none. Power without loyalty is chaos waiting to be unleashed. So tell me, anomaly. What is your true purpose?"

This was no test of strength, but of intent.

Nihil met Queen Aerwyna's gaze. `[Queen Aerwyna: S-Tier]`. He felt the existential weight of millennia in her presence. Lies would be useless.

"My purpose is survival," Nihil answered flatly. "And to understand the nature of the shackles binding me."

"And if that understanding leads you to conclude you must destroy us to survive?" Elarion sneered.

Before Nihil could respond, Elara Moonveil stepped forward. "If I may speak, Your Majesty."

Queen Aerwyna nodded.

"You cannot comprehend Void power by trying to suppress it with Life or Light magic," Elara explained, her tone professorial. "That is like dousing fire with oil. They are opposing absolutes. Magical deconstruction, as Lord Elarion proposes, would likely trigger a chain reaction destroying not only him, but half this city."

Nihil glanced at Elara. She had just saved him with cold logic.

"What do you propose then, human scholar?" Elarion demanded.

"A trial," said Elara. "But not of strength. A trial of value. Prove to you all that this anomaly can be a controlled asset, not merely a threat."

Queen Aerwyna looked at Nihil. "You have proven your power. Now prove your worth."

She rose from her throne. "I will give you a choice aligned with that purpose."

She addressed the council and her daughter. "We will not seal him. We will not worship him. We will use him."

Her decision was final. "Princess Lyraelle, you will lead an elite strike unit to the Echo Vale Outpost. Lord Elarion, you will provide long-range arcane support from the Spire. And you, Nihil," she locked eyes with him. "You will be their spearhead. Your mission: repel the demon forces gathering there and seal all underground tunnels they are using. Succeed, and you gain 'war-ally' status with limited freedom within our realm. Fail, or show signs of betrayal..."

"Then my daughter has full authority to erase you on the spot," she finished, her voice leaving no room for debate.

Nihil was no longer merely a prisoner. He was a weapon given a target. A bullet aimed at the heart of the Elves' eternal war.

Nihil, Elara, Lyraelle, and twenty elite rangers moved with astonishing speed. This time, Nihil kept pace effortlessly—Zander's physical training and his enhanced stamina allowing him to match the Elves, though without their natural grace.

The closer they got to Echo Vale, the heavier the Abyssal Rift's corruption became. Once-living green forests turned gray and dying. Trees stood like skeletal claws scraping the sky. The air hung thick with the stench of rotting flesh and ozone.

They reached Moon's Vigil, the Elven fortress guarding the vale. The structure was an architectural marvel fused with a colossal cliff-face, but now its ivory-white walls were defiled by blackened scorch marks and giant claw grooves. Elf sentries moved with bone-deep exhaustion, faces grim.

The fortress commander, a veteran Elf with one eye and snow-white hair, greeted them. His scarred face hardened upon seeing Nihil.

`[Captain Voron: A-Tier]`

"Princess Lyraelle," Voron bowed. "We did not expect you." His eye then fixed on Nihil. "And you bring... *this* into my fortress?"

"He is a weapon sent by the Queen, Captain," Lyraelle stated firmly. "Treat him as such."

Voron grunted but didn't dispute orders. He led them to the strategy room atop the fortress. From there, they could survey Echo Vale. The sight was hellish. Black, cracked earth venting sulfurous smoke. Hundreds of demons—Imps, Hellhounds, larger fiends—swarmed like ants. And in the distance, a vertical tear in the air pulsed with sickly purple light—the Abyssal Rift.

"They grow bolder," Voron said, pointing to a large cave at the mountain's base. "They've established their main nest there. Daily, they send probing attacks. We hold, but lose more warriors each time."

As he spoke, a hoarse war-horn echoed from the vale. A new assault wave began.

Hundreds of Imps and Hellhounds surged toward the fortress walls. Behind them, larger demons—"Corruptors"—began hurling sizzling globes of green acid at the stone defenses.

"Positions!" Lyraelle roared.

Elves on the walls reacted instantly, loosing volleys of enchanted arrows. The battle was joined.

Nihil and Elara stood on the observation tower, watching.

"Observe," Elara pointed to the Corruptors. "Their acid magic doesn't just physically damage. It leaves an energy residue eroding the wards on these walls. Clever tactics."

Nihil cared nothing for tactics. He saw a problem to solve. The Elf archers struggled to reach the Corruptors positioned in the rear ranks.

He didn't ask permission. He stepped to the tower's edge.

`[Using Void Lance]`

`[Capacity: 50/50 → 47/50]`

A silent, pitch-black projectile streaked from his fingertip at invisible speed. He didn't aim at a Corruptor's body. He aimed at the acid globe it was about to launch.

The acid sphere vanished mid-air as if never existing. The Corruptor paused, confused.

Nihil fired twice more.

`[Capacity: 47/50 → 41/50]`

Two other Corruptors mid-chant staggered as their acid orbs dissolved into nothingness.

In the command room, Captain Voron, watching through a scrying crystal, saw it. "What was that?"

On the walls, the Elves saw it too. The acid barrage raining down on them abruptly ceased.

Nihil had neutralized their greatest threat from a kilometer away without harming a single enemy.

Lyraelle, having just beheaded a Hellhound, looked up at the tower where Nihil stood. She saw the calm figure who had just altered the battle's course by raising a finger.

He was no longer just a weapon. He was a silent god of war. And this war had just become infinitely more interesting.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.