Chapter 768: Second round
The Lord clenched his fists, seething with rage and frustration as he turned toward Vlad. Killing the young warrior would require just a flick of his finger. One move. One breath. And Vlad would be nothing but a memory. But doing so would also seal his own fate.
Even as a being far beyond the realm of mortals—a lofty existence elevated above mere Legends—he understood perfectly well that in a battle against the White Death, he would lose. Every time. Ten times out of ten. No exceptions.
Of course, things might be different if he had the full, unshakable backing of Valhalla, the great civilization that crowned gods and birthed nightmares. But that was not going to happen. He was already considered a stain in Valhalla, and if the Elders would be happy to see him die.
Taking a deep breath, the middle-aged Lord forced himself to regain composure. Slowly, he turned toward Octavio, voice cold and commanding.
"What are you waiting for? Rise from the ground and kill that man."
The White Death’s warning applied only to Lords. That wasn’t a misstep or oversight. It was intentional. The Emperor of the Graecia Empire had no interest in shielding Vlad from other Legends. If the True Depravita dared to enter the domain of a higher civilization, only to fall to one of its Legends, then in the eyes of the White Death, he deserved to die for his foolishness.
Octavio was still trying to wrap his head around everything that had just transpired. So much had happened—so quickly—that he barely had time to process it. But the moment he heard the Lord’s voice again, his instincts kicked in. He nodded silently and rose from the crater.
Right now, his only hope of surviving this ordeal was to kill Vlad Xaos. If he failed, the Lord might very well dismember him alive, and the old woman wouldn’t lift a finger to help. To her, he was nothing more than a blemish on Valhalla’s legacy.
"BOOOOOOM!"