Beyond the Apocalypse

"What if I heal the Marshal’s arm?"

Those words echoed across the throne room, plunging the space into a tense, profound silence. All the Legends present turned their gazes toward Vlad, their eyes sharp and tinged with disapproval.

In a Doomsday World, one of the greatest taboos was to overestimate your own capabilities. Such overconfidence could lead not only to your own death but also to the deaths of your comrades. Vlad, however, did not waver beneath their scrutiny. His eyes remained resolute as he held Marshal Maximo’s gaze, silently conveying his determination.

Seated on the massive throne, Marshal Maximo observed Vlad with a thoughtful light in his eyes. On the one hand, part of him believed that this young man was making a baseless claim; after all, even Legends had trouble dealing with the sort of injury he bore. On the other hand, there was something about Vlad that sparked hope—an indescribable aura suggesting he might truly possess a solution to a wound that had resisted all previous attempts at healing.

"This wound carries the origin power of The Darkness—a chaotic force that gave birth to worlds like the Chaovoratities Plane," Maximo explained. His voice was calm yet laced with an undercurrent of grim acceptance. "Normal healing spells accomplish very little against it. Divine spells can actually make the injury worse. Are you certain you have the ability to handle something like this?"

Even while acknowledging that such a chance was remote, Marshal Maximo was not the sort of man to dismiss a possibility outright. In his long life, he had witnessed all kinds of miracles. Better to test a claim, however unlikely, than reject it outright due to preconceived notions. Vlad drew a slow, steady breath, gathering his thoughts. Only when he had carefully organized his mind did he speak again.

"My comrade was wounded by a Sage ability imbued with the same power, though at a much lower potency," Vlad said, his tone measured and unwavering. "I managed to purge that chaotic energy from his body, and I believe I can do the same for you."

Maximo’s brow furrowed slightly, and the coldness in the eyes of the surrounding Legends began to recede. A collective sense of inquiry replaced their initial skepticism. Vlad did not sound like some naïve newcomer proclaiming an empty boast; rather, he spoke with the conviction of someone who had encountered The Darkness firsthand and overcome it, if only on a smaller scale. Though they still doubted whether he could truly heal the Marshal, it seemed at least worth discovering the method he had used.

"How, exactly, did you help your friend?" Maximo’s eyes glimmered with an intense inquisitiveness, a pressure that made it clear he would brook no lies or half-truths. If Vlad truly possessed the ability to combat the chaotic energy of The Darkness, that knowledge could prove invaluable.

Standing off to the side, Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir exchanged meaningful looks. Fafnir had indeed suffered from a wound imbued with a fraction of The Darkness, but Vlad had not been the one to cure him. Instead, it was Fafnir’s own Depravita Aura that had cleansed the chaotic energy.