Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 766: True Depravita vs Valhalla

Even with the cultivation level of a Superior Legend, the fear of death was so potent and primal in Earl Octavio that he dared not challenge the four figures who now stood before him. Desperate, he tried to invoke the authority of Valhalla, hoping to drive them back with words alone.

But that only fueled the four True Depravitas’ contempt.

The True Depravita of Wrath stepped forward, his presence blazing like a storm of hatred. His eyes burned with such intensity that the air around him seemed to ignite with invisible flames.

"I am Vlad Xaos, Duke of Graecia, King of the Xaos Kingdom, and I have come to set things right in the name of my Queen."

Vlad’s voice boomed across the arena, echoing through the sky in all directions. Every Viking, from the stands to the farthest reaches of the coliseum, heard his words—and their hearts trembled.

Vlad was an outsider, a ruler from another empire, another world entirely. By all rights, he had no place here, no reason to involve himself in the internal affairs of Valhalla. Yet not a single Viking dared to reproach him.

If anything, they felt a deep sense of frustration and envy.

Frustration at their own weakness—at their inability to act, to protect one of their own. And envy at the righteous, honorable spirit of the Xaos King, who did not hesitate to stand against a high civilization in defense of a member of his kingdom.

If that was not the heart of a true Viking, then what was?

Octavio’s dread only deepened as Vlad spoke. The Xaos Kingdom had seemed insignificant to him before—a minor realm in the grand scheme of the universe. But Graecia...

Graecia was a name that sent shivers down the spines of even the proudest powers. It was a High Civilization, feared and respected across countless star systems. To kill a Duke of Graecia... only a suicidal fool would dare such a thing.

Yet, just as Octavio’s survival instincts screamed for him to retreat, the cold, commanding voice returned, echoing in his mind. It was a voice that chilled his soul far more than any fear of Vlad.

"Outsider—prepare to face the righteousness of Valhalla!"

Octavio roared, forcing his energy to surge in a desperate burst. A massive platinum spear materialized in his hands, radiating an aura so sharp and menacing that it seemed capable of piercing through entire moons with a single thrust.

Vlad watched him calmly, his expression unreadable. He could feel Octavio’s strength—greater even than the Superior Angel he had once faced on Terra. But there was no fear in his eyes.

Instead, a wide, feral smile spread across his face as a deep, vertical cut appeared on his forehead—splitting open to reveal a third, empty eye.

"Jormungandr."

The word reverberated like a command through the very fabric of reality.

In the same instant, the small yellow cat beside Vlad began to shift, its body expanding rapidly—until it transformed into a gargantuan snake, stretching thousands of meters long. The colossal serpent merged into Vlad’s third eye, its form twisting into the swirling void of his mind.

"BOOOOOOOMMMMM!"

Vlad’s energy erupted, a storm of chaotic force that sent shockwaves tearing through the arena. His body grew larger, scales forming across his skin, horns sprouting from his head, wings unfurling from his back, and a long tail whipping through the air like a living scythe.

Awe and admiration filled the eyes of the Vikings as they watched Vlad’s transformation, their hearts pounding at the sheer force of his presence. His power had skyrocketed, the fusion with Jormungandr granting him an aura that seemed apocalyptic in scope.

An imposing sword materialized in Vlad’s hand—a blade infused with the essence of a spatial storm, its edges crackling with dark energy that tore at the fabric of reality itself.

"I have been waiting for this... for a very long time," Vlad declared, his voice thundering across the heavens like the roar of a god.

He had understood Freya’s will from the beginning. That was why he had remained silent throughout the tournament, refusing to interfere beyond a subtle psychic nudge during the semifinals.

But now—now was the time to release all his wrath.

"BOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!"

Without wasting another word, Vlad surged forward, his speed shattering the very space he crossed. One moment he stood still, the next he was in front of Octavio, his sword slashing down with unstoppable might.

Octavio barely managed to react, raising his spear to block, but the moment their weapons clashed, the sword unleashed a spatial storm that enveloped Octavio completely. The Viking Earl was sent flying across the Arena of Gods like a broken doll, smashing through the air with a trail of destruction behind him.

The super powerhouses in the stands were left stunned, their jaws slack at the sheer, destructive power Vlad had unleashed. To see Octavio, a Superior Legend, flung like a ragdoll from the arena was something none of them had imagined possible.

Vlad didn’t let up for a second. His eyes gleamed with a monstrous killing intent as he pursued Octavio without pause, his aura howling like a storm of vengeance.

Meanwhile, the white werewolf and the light fire dragon leaped into the arena, landing by Freya’s side. Their presences were a wall of defense, their gazes cold and sharp as they silently vowed to protect her.

Vlad trusted that Ouroboros and Fafnir would safeguard Freya while he focused on his prey.

Far from the arena, away from the gazes of the crowd, Vlad’s mind locked onto one goal: to end Octavio’s life.

His gaze sharpened. Taking a deep breath, he buried his sword into the fabric of space itself. The blade’s edge vanished, and in its place, a massive replica—hundreds of times larger—manifested in the sky, descending like a divine pillar of judgment.

Octavio, battered and stunned, tried to rise—only to see the colossal blade streaking toward him. He barely had time to raise his spear in a desperate defense.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!"

A cataclysmic explosion rocked the landscape, the spatial storm erupting with even greater fury. Octavio’s figure crashed into the ground with overwhelming force, the shockwaves radiating out like a collapsing star, leveling everything in their path.

Before the dust had even settled, Vlad appeared above the crater, his three eyes blazing with power. He channeled a massive torrent of energy, stabbing his sword once more into the fabric of space.

Octavio, struggling to rise, looked up—just in time to see dozens of swords materialize from thin air, each one aimed at him like spears of retribution.

And they all descended at once.

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