Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1068: Into the Second Layer

The warriors forged by the Obsidian Tree descended in perfect order, their presence alone altering the atmosphere of the battlefield. Each of them was clad in obsidian armor, dark as a starless void, yet polished to a mirror-like sheen.

Streams of purple energy flowed continuously through engraved channels in their armor, pulsing like veins filled with liquid power.

They were not a uniform monolith. Some of the warriors stood as towering giants, nearly five meters tall, their massive frames radiating overwhelming pressure, while others were less than two meters in height, lean and agile, built for speed rather than brute force.

There were men and women among them, their forms distinct and deliberate, each body clearly designed with purpose rather than mass production.

Their eyes were what truly set them apart.

They were not hollow, nor vacant like those of mindless constructs. Instead, they glowed faintly with awareness—wisdom, calculation, and something unmistakably close to intelligence. When they looked around, their gazes carried weight, as if each one possessed an inner perspective shaped by experience. They radiated the unmistakable aura of souls.

As the Legends and Sages of the main army witnessed these forces, murmurs spread uncontrollably through the ranks.

"Where did these warriors come from?"

"They’re said to be unique forces of the Xaos Kingdom..."

"I heard there are elite troops that operate entirely in the shadows, and only now are they being brought into the light."

The Sovereigns overheard the whispers and exchanged subtle glances with one another. The truth—that these beings were Thiamatos drones born from the Obsidian Tree—was a secret carefully guarded.

Only Lords were aware of their true origin. Concealing one’s true capabilities was not merely wise; it was essential. A hidden blade was always more dangerous than one openly displayed.

Originally, the Sovereigns had worried that experienced cultivators might see through the illusion. That fear proved unfounded. Even Lords were unable to discern the truth. The deception was flawless.

More than once, the Lords found themselves turning their gazes toward Overlord.

The True Depravita of Pride responded only with a faint, knowing smile.

In truth, the process had not been particularly difficult for him. As a True Depravita, he could harmonize with the fragment of Fafnir’s soul embedded within the Obsidian Tree, granting him absolute authority over the creation of the drones. Randomizing physical characteristics was trivial. Height, gender, muscle distribution, skeletal density—all of it could be altered at will.

As for the mind and soul, there was no deception involved at all.

Using Divine Power, Overlord forged a core within each unit, embedding a consciousness matrix that carried a copy of the A.I. Chip. It was not especially refined, lacking true emotional depth, but it was more than sufficient.

These drones could think, adapt, learn, follow orders, protect territory, and interact with civilians and allies alike. They were guardians, soldiers, and administrators rolled into one.

The human and dragon Legends, accompanied by the Thiamatos units, descended to the ground. Meanwhile, Altharion and Lancel moved forward to meet the Sovereigns. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Altharion glanced at his father and performed a deep bow. His eyes burned with determination and unwavering resolve. Securing and terraforming the First Layer of Hell would dramatically enhance the power and sustainability of the Six Sun Alliance. This task was not merely a military operation—it was a foundation for future dominion.

He would not disappoint his father.

Overlord studied the two Lords before speaking, his voice transmitted only to them.

"You know your missions. If true danger arises, do not gamble with your lives. The First Layer is merely one step in a far greater plan. We cannot afford to lose even a single Lord."

His tone was sharp, commanding, and utterly absolute. There was no room for disobedience. Reckless valor would not earn praise—only contempt and loss of trust.

Altharion and Lancel both nodded deeply. The light in their eyes made it clear they understood perfectly.

"When it comes to exploration and scouting," Overlord continued, "use the Thiamatos drones. Do not deceive yourselves. They are not truly alive. If they fall, retrieve their remains if possible. Their bodies can be recycled as raw material for future units."

Once again, the two Lords nodded.

They had been raised to value the lives of their soldiers deeply, which made assigning troops to suicidal missions an unbearable burden. The drones solved that dilemma cleanly and efficiently.

Seeing that everything was in order, Overlord dismissed them. Altharion and Lancel returned to their forces, preparing to begin the Second Phase of the First Layer’s conquest.

Overlord then turned to the remaining Sovereigns.

"It is time for us to move to the Second Layer."

Solemn expressions spread across every face.

They were ready—but they were not naïve. Marching into the Second Layer of Hell would be exponentially more dangerous than the First. The element of surprise was gone. News of the First Layer’s fall had spread, and the Devil Lords of the Second Layer would not sit idle.

Overlord continued, his voice calm yet heavy with implication.

"My scout larvae have already infiltrated the Second Layer. They have been gathering intelligence for months. At the heart of the layer stands a massive stronghold, ruled by ten Devil Lords. Their combined forces number in the billions."

A pause followed.

"Most of those Devils are cannon fodder," he added. "But if my assessment is correct, they will likely be used in sacrificial rituals—rituals capable of inflicting serious harm on our forces."

The solemnity among the Sovereigns deepened.

Of course, they could send the White Death first, unleashing his devastating power to annihilate the battlefield. But unless absolutely necessary, the Graecia Emperor should not fight. If the White Death exhausted himself destroying the fortress, a Devil Paragon might emerge, exploiting his weakened state.

That would force them to reveal the full power of the True Depravita of Wrath.

Their strongest trump card.

Overlord’s gaze sharpened, golden light flaring faintly in his eyes.

"I have a plan," he said slowly. "It will be dangerous. But if it succeeds, we will eliminate nearly every major threat in the Second Layer with a single move."

Silence followed.

Every Sovereign leaned in.

---

The Second Layer of Hell was a land of slow decay—not the violent, consuming destruction of flame, but a rot that lingered, observed, and remembered.

The sky above was locked in a perpetual bruise-purple hue, stretched endlessly across the horizon, and streaked with veins of pale green lightning. That lightning never struck the ground. Instead, it crawled endlessly through the clouds, pulsing like a living circulatory system, as though the heavens themselves were diseased.

The air was thick and heavy, carrying the stench of old incense, rusted iron, and wilted flowers.

The land below was a vast expanse of cracked marble plains interspersed with sinking gardens half-swallowed by the earth. Black vines grew everywhere, winding over broken pillars and statues, blooming with ghost-white petals that shed no scent. These flowers fed not on soil, but on regret.

Rivers of viscous, silver-black liquid flowed sluggishly through the terrain. Their surfaces did not reflect faces, but moments—flashes of past failures, unspoken words, and choices that could never be undone.

This was a realm of endless remorse, where weak souls would lose themselves entirely, wandering in circles through their own past errors until nothing remained.

At the very heart of the Second Layer stood a city unlike any other.

It was built vertically and inward, like a spiraling wound carved into reality itself. Towers of pale, corpse-white stone leaned toward one another at impossible angles, bound together by massive chains engraved with screaming, broken souls.

Bridges connected the towers, but their positions shifted constantly. No path remained familiar for long. What had been a straight crossing one moment could become a looping maze the next.

Throughout the city, bells tolled endlessly—but never in rhythm. Each discordant chime generated an infernal wave of sound that rippled through the air, shattering stone and flesh alike. Anything that was not a Devil would be torn apart by those vibrations. This was not merely a city; it was a weapon.

This was the stronghold forged by the most powerful Devil Lords of the Second Layer.

The City of Unkept Promises.

Its defensive formations alone were said to be sufficient to withstand the full assault of a Lord-tier existence. Layer upon layer of runes were etched into every surface, hidden beneath streets, walls, and foundations. Sacrificial arrays lay dormant beneath the city, vast enough to consume entire armies in a single activation.

At the core of the city, atop a spiraling platform of black marble, stood the Devil Lords themselves.