The Forbidden Void: Rise of the Untouchable Son-in-Law

Chapter 4

The air in the Blood-Core chamber didn't just vibrate; it bruised. Every pulse of the massive, crystalline heart suspended in the center of the room sent a shockwave of raw, carmine energy through the floor. It was the color of a fresh wound, the source of every light and every death in the city of Xylos.

Jaxen stood at the base of the spiral stairs, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the obsidian floor. His eyes were locked on the man he had called "Father" for twenty-one years.

Silas—or whatever was wearing his skin—stood before the Core. The tattered, soot-stained clothes of a refinery worker were scorched away, revealing a torso covered in glowing, violet runes that mimicked the ones on Jaxen’s own heart. Black smoke drifted from Silas’s eyes, and his presence felt like a physical weight pressing against the room’s atmosphere.

"You've grown strong, Jaxen," the entity said, its voice a dissonant harmony of a dozen different tones. "The Valerius waste-mana was a fine appetizer, wasn't it?"

"Who are you?" Jaxen demanded. His hands were curled into fists, the Void Heart in his chest thundering in synchronization with the Core. "Where is my father?"

"I am the legacy you were born to carry," the entity replied, stepping forward. With every step, the stone beneath his feet turned to fine gray ash. "As for Silas... he was merely the soil. You are the fruit. And it is time for the harvest."

[CRITICAL ALERT: Original Void Host has initiated 'Domain Consumption'.] [Detection: Level 85 Entity. Current Host Status: 12% Sync.] [Warning: Your current Void Storage is insufficient for direct confrontation!]

"Shut up," Jaxen hissed at the system.

He didn't wait for the entity to strike. Jaxen moved with a burst of speed that cracked the obsidian floor. He didn't use a weapon; he used his own body as a conduit. He channeled every drop of the 15% Void Storage into his right fist, turning his arm into a pillar of absolute darkness.

"Void Strike!"

The punch connected with Silas’s chest, but there was no sound of breaking bone. Instead, there was a roar of colliding vacuums. The two Void energies clashed, creating a localized hurricane that shattered the nearby cooling pipes. Scalding steam filled the room, but neither man flinched.

Silas didn't even move an inch. He looked down at Jaxen’s fist with something resembling pity.

"You use the Void like a club, boy," Silas said. He reached out and gripped Jaxen’s throat with a hand that felt like cold iron. "The Void isn't a weapon. It is the end of all things."

With a flick of his wrist, the entity sent Jaxen flying across the chamber. Jaxen smashed into a massive support pillar, the stone splintering behind him. He coughed, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

[Health: 78%. Void Storage: 8%.] [Warning: The opponent is siphoning your energy through the air!]

Jaxen wiped his mouth, a manic glint entering his eyes. Most people would have felt despair. Jaxen felt a rush of adrenaline. For the first time in his life, he wasn't fighting a "Mana-User" whose power he could simply eat. He was fighting a predator like himself.

"You think I'm weak?" Jaxen stood up, his posture straightening. "I've spent four years being called 'Null.' I've spent my whole life watching you bow to the Valerius family. If you're the 'Original Host,' then why are we still in the gutter?"

"Because the Core was not yet ripe!" the entity roared.

He raised both hands, and the Blood-Core responded. Thick, crimson tendrils of liquid mana shot out from the heart, coiling around Silas’s arms like snakes. He began to draw the city’s life-force directly into himself, his level flickering upward in Jaxen’s vision. 86... 88... 90.

"I sent you to that Academy to learn their patterns!" Silas shouted over the roar of the Core. "I sent you to this Spire so your presence would act as a lightning rod, drawing the Valerius’s suspicion while I prepared the ritual! You were never the hero, Jaxen. You were the distraction!"

"Is that so?" Jaxen’s voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it carried through the storm.

He closed his eyes, reaching deep into the "Void System." He ignored the warnings and the level gaps. He looked at the flow of energy—not the gold mana of the Valerius, nor the red blood of the Core, but the underlying threads of the world.

"System," Jaxen thought. "Overclock. Force-sync with the Blood-Core's resonance."

[Warning: Overclocking will cause permanent soul-strain. Do you wish to proceed?]

"Do it."

[Overclock Active. Void Storage Cap: REMOVED.]

Jaxen’s eyes snapped open. They were no longer black; they were a blinding, iridescent white—the color of a star collapsing.

As Silas lunged, moving like a shadow through the steam, Jaxen didn't dodge. He stepped into the attack. When Silas’s violet-clawed hand reached for his heart, Jaxen grabbed Silas’s wrist.

"You said I use the Void like a club," Jaxen growled. "Let me show you how I use a vacuum."

Instead of pushing the energy out, Jaxen reversed the flow. He opened every pore in his body, turning himself into a literal sinkhole. He wasn't just siphoning the entity; he was siphoning the connection between the entity and the Blood-Core.

The effect was cataclysmic.

The crimson tendrils connecting Silas to the heart began to turn black, the energy being forcibly redirected through Jaxen’s body. The pain was unbearable—like having molten lead poured through his veins—but he didn't let go.

[Siphoning... +10%... +30%... +70%...] [Level Up! Level 30... 35... 42... 50!]

"What are you doing?!" the entity screamed, its form flickering. The image of the kind, tired Silas began to warp and tear. "You’ll explode! No mortal vessel can hold the Core’s raw essence!"

"I'm not a vessel," Jaxen spat, his skin beginning to crack and leak white light. "I'm the grave."

With a final, desperate roar, Jaxen unleashed the accumulated energy. He didn't aim it at Silas. He aimed it at the floor—the very foundation of the Blood-Core’s containment unit.

The explosion was silent. A sphere of absolute nothingness expanded from Jaxen’s feet, erasing the obsidian, the pipes, and the runes. The support pillars vanished into dust.

The entity was ripped away from Jaxen, his connection to the Core severed. He tumbled back into the shadows, his violet glow fading as he lost his grip on the physical world.

"This... isn't over..." the entity’s voice hissed, fading into the dark. "The Valerius... they will see the light go out... and they will come for you..."

The room fell into a terrifying silence. The Blood-Core, now disconnected from its ritual, pulsed weakly, its red light dimming to a faint pink.

Jaxen fell to his knees, gasping for air. His body was covered in glowing cracks, and his clothes were nothing but rags.

[Overclock Terminated.] [Current Level: 55.] [Warning: System entering 'Reboot' mode. Host is vulnerable.]

"Damn it," Jaxen muttered, trying to stand. His legs felt like jelly.

He looked at the stairs. He had to get out. He had to find out if the "real" Silas was still in there somewhere, or if his father had been a lie from the very beginning.

But as he reached the first step, the heavy blast doors at the top of the stairs groaned and began to turn red-hot.

A moment later, they didn't just open—they were liquidated.

Standing in the doorway was not a guard. It was Lord Valerius himself, clad in golden battle-armor, his face contorted in a mask of pure, murderous rage. Behind him stood Seraphina, her Golden Eye wide with horror as she looked at the ruined chamber and the boy standing in the center of it.

Lord Valerius looked at the dimmed Blood-Core, then at Jaxen.

"You," Valerius whispered, the sound vibrating with the power of a Level 90 Mana-King. "You didn't just steal my daughter’s power. You’ve poisoned the heart of my city."

He raised his hand, and a massive spear of solidified sunlight materialized in the air, aimed directly at Jaxen’s throat.

"Wait!" Seraphina screamed, stepping forward.

But it was too late. Valerius threw the spear.

Jaxen watched the light approach, his System still showing the [REBOOTING] screen. He had no energy left. He had no Void to shield him.

The spear was inches from his chest when the ground beneath Jaxen suddenly gave way. A trapdoor—one not even the Valerius knew about—snapped open, and a pair of gloved hands reached out from the darkness, pulling Jaxen down into the abyss just as the sun-spear incinerated the air where he had been standing.

As the darkness swallowed him, the last thing Jaxen saw was Seraphina’s face, etched not with hatred, but with a desperate, terrifying realization.

The voice that whispered in his ear as he fell was female, sharp, and entirely unfamiliar.

"Don't die yet, little king. The real war hasn't even started."