Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1059: Conquering Hell (I)

Once more, a moment of immense significance unfolded within the Six Sun Galactic Trading Realm.

The Sovereign Hall stood solemn and vast as rulers gathered once again. Present were the sovereigns of the Obsidian Dragon Kingdom, the Amazon Kingdom, the Dvergar Kingdom, the Faerathia Empire, and the Greaciea Empire. Each occupied their designated seat, their expressions serious, their minds heavy with anticipation.

This time, however, the atmosphere was different, as the lack of leadership and the feeling of weakness had faded. One of the key worries for the soverings was the fact that Vlad might have lost its edge after the defeat in Valhalla, but the carnage through Heaven made it clear that was not the case.

Vlad materialized precisely on time, his presence radiating overwhelming authority. Five luminous eyes glowed on his forehead, each pulsing with a distinct yet harmonized power—symbols of transcendent awareness and divine wrath refined into perfect control. The temperature of the hall seemed to drop, not from cold, but from the sheer weight of his existence.

The reaction was immediate.

Brightkin, Orkin, Merlin, and Ankil all rose from their seats and performed deep bows—far deeper than protocol required. It was the same gesture they had offered the White Death, a sign of acknowledgment reserved only for beings who stood at the level of Paragons, entities who surpassed conventional power hierarchies.

The White Death himself did not bow. Instead, he offered a slow, deliberate nod, white flames flickering faintly within his hollow gaze.

Vlad noticed—and appreciated the restraint.

He was not arrogant and considered these people his allies. So a warm, calm smile appeared on his face as he inclined his head in return.

"Please," he said evenly, his voice steady but commanding, "sit. We have much to discuss."

Once everyone had taken their seats, silence settled over the hall. Vlad took a measured breath, the five eyes upon his forehead narrowing slightly as his expression sharpened.

"The reason for this meeting," he began, "is something all of you should have already realized."

His gaze swept across the room.

"The Alien Powers."

Solemn, somber expressions spread across the faces of the sovereigns. Even the White Death’s posture stiffened slightly.

Heaven was a terrifying enemy, yes—but it was one they could face. If the six sovereign powers were willing to commit fully, even at the cost of their lives and countless warriors, Heaven could be brought down.

The Alien Powers were different.

Entirely different.

They existed beyond familiar hierarchies, beyond conventional causality and divine order. Even if every sovereign in the room sacrificed themselves—along with every army, fleet, and world under their command—it still would not be enough.

They were simply in another league.

Vlad nodded slowly as he observed their reactions.

"Fear is dangerous," he said calmly, "but underestimating an enemy is worse."

He folded his hands together.

"For now, the Alien Powers are confined. The laws of the universe itself are restraining them, keeping them locked beyond our worlds. But that will not last forever. They are already adapting. When they break free—and they will—we must be ready."

He paused, ensuring every word sank in.

"We must understand our enemy. And before that day comes, we must weaken them as much as possible."

After confirming that everyone was following his words, Vlad continued.

"Many years ago, I traveled into Hell. My goal was to use a portal that led directly into the heart of the now-destroyed Zanis Homeworld."

Confusion flickered across several faces. The connection to their current topic was not immediately obvious.

Without further explanation, Vlad raised his hand.

Reality shimmered.

An image formed in the air, expanding into a detailed projection that surrounded the entire hall. Soon, the events of his first journey into Hell’s Third Layer unfolded before them—the infernal landscapes, the ancient mechanisms, and finally, the revelation of the Primordial God’s Tomb.

The saga was epic.

The sovereigns watched in stunned silence as the tomb opened, revealing the abomination sealed within.

Dream of Madness.

Several rulers trembled visibly just from watching the projection. The oppressive aura of the creature, even as an image, was enough to make their souls recoil. When the battle erupted and the tomb was sealed at the final second, the tension in the room was suffocating.

The King of the Obsidian Dragon Kingdom swallowed hard, struggling to steady his breathing.

"Is that..." he hesitated, "...an Empyrean?"

The room stirred.

The classifications of Lord, Paragon, and Empyrean had already spread across the galactic markets. Artifacts and weapons had begun to reach Paragon tier, but Empyrean—true Empyrean—was something else entirely.

Until now, only Vlad and the White Death had ever clashed with an Empyrean directly.

And both knew the horror such a being represented.

"Yes," Vlad confirmed. "They attempted to free it. I shattered their plans."

His tone hardened.

"Afterward, I destroyed the dimension that housed the tomb, making it nearly impossible for others to reach it. But I am certain the Alien Powers will try again."

His eyes sharpened dangerously.

"No matter what, we cannot allow Dream of Madness to be freed and recover its full power."

Ankil, the Amazon Queen, leaned forward.

"Do you want us to help you seal it further?"

Vlad shook his head immediately.

"I want you to help me kill it."

Shock rippled through the hall. Several sovereigns stared at the frozen image of Dream of Madness, disbelief and dread etched into their faces.

"Is killing something like that even possible?" Orkin asked, his voice unsteady despite his warrior’s heart.

Before Vlad could answer, a cold voice echoed across the chamber.

"Everything can die."

The White Death’s white flames flared slightly, embodying Entropy, the inevitable end of all things.

"However," he continued, "it will not be easy. And we are not ready to face something like that—even wounded, even exhausted."

Vlad turned toward him.

The Eye of Pride ignited.

His demeanor shifted instantly, authority deepening as Overlord’s voice emerged.

"You are correct. I have calculated our combined power and that of the Alien Lord using data from the previous encounter. Our chances of killing Dream of Madness are less than five percent."

The hall went deathly silent.

"The probability of all of us dying," Overlord continued calmly, "is approximately fifty percent."

Faces paled. Even the bravest among them felt cold dread. Those odds were unacceptable.

Overlord allowed a brief pause before continuing.

"Given that none of us are suicidal, I propose an alternative strategy."

He straightened slightly.

"Instead of marching directly toward the Primordial God’s Tomb, we take a different path."

"A path of conquest."

Silence reigned for a moment—then realization dawned across the faces of the sovereigns.

"You mean..." Merlin began slowly, "...marching through Hell and conquering its layers?"

He frowned deeply.

"We can destroy. We can pillage. But conquest? That is impossible. We are fundamentally incompatible with the laws and energies of the infernal realm."

Taking treasures and conquering a realm were two fundamentally different undertakings.

To conquer a place, one had to do far more than simply defeat its defenders or strip it of resources. True conquest required population, the establishment of permanent strongholds, and the ability to sustain both warriors and civilians over long periods of time. It meant reshaping the land into something stable, defensible, and capable of growth.

And that was precisely why Hell had always been considered unconquerable.

Hell was not merely a hostile territory—it was a plane of The Darkness, a realm whose very laws and energies were poisonous to beings of The Light.

The infernal atmosphere eroded the bodies of mortals, corrupted the minds of the weak-willed, and warped the souls of those who lingered too long. Humans, dragons, dwarves, and most divine races could not survive there without constant protection. Even angels struggled to endure its influence for extended periods.

Merlin’s words echoed through the Sovereign Hall, and one by one, the rulers present nodded in agreement. His assessment reflected what had long been accepted as an unshakable truth across the universe.

A small, knowing smile appeared in the eyes of the True Depravita as he observed their reactions.

"That," Overlord’s voice was calm, "was the past."

The room stilled.

"And I will show you the future."

As his voice carried across the hall, the golden glow within his eyes deepened, infused with confidence and absolute certainty.

"After my evolution," he continued, "my abilities advanced far beyond their previous limits. I can now infuse Devil Bloodlines deeply and permanently into the soul itself. Not superficially, not temporarily—but at the core."

Murmurs rippled through the chamber.

"With this," Overlord said evenly, "warriors can safely wield infernal energy and train under the laws of the infernal plane without suffering rejection or degeneration."

Silence followed.

A sense of deep pride and accomplishment radiated from him. This was not mere theory—this was mastery.