Beyond the Apocalypse

Vlad felt his mind teetering on the edge of collapse, strained under the immense pressure of the ongoing fusion of souls. The overwhelming force that came with harmonizing such powerful essences would have broken the soul of an ordinary Legend, but his enhanced talent and pure soul force allowed him to endure.

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Thanks to the grueling months of cultivation and the sacred treasures that had nurtured his energy pool and fortified his spirit, he could handle the stress with greater ease than when he faced the Superior Angel.

Taking a long, steady breath, his wounds began to close. Flesh mended. Bones realigned. The tears in his muscles and skin vanished, knitted together by the vast reservoir of energy within him. His healing wasn’t natural—it was fueled by his Depravita Star and amazing psychic power.

With his sword clenched tight, lightning storming through its core, Vlad surged forward once more, a streak of fury and will cutting through the sky.

Earl Octavio’s eyes widened in disbelief at the sudden regeneration of the True Depravita. But there was no time to dwell on it. In response, he summoned more power, letting his energy explode outward in a storm of platinum light, even greater than before. He wouldn’t allow himself to be caught off guard again.

The battlefield became a cyclone of violence.

They clashed—again and again—with ever-escalating intensity. Each collision shook the sky. The air cracked and howled, space rippled and groaned. Their weapons struck with such force that shockwaves blasted craters into the earth and sent gales tearing through the clouds.

"BOOM!"

A slash from Vlad carved through space itself, a crescent of lightning and void racing toward Octavio. The Viking Legend spun his spear with masterful precision and deflected the strike, though not without effort. Still, another blow followed, and then another. Cuts opened on both of them as their fight turned savage, primal.

But there was a difference—a devastating one.

While Vlad’s injuries healed almost instantly, his body absorbing damage like the earth absorbs rain, Octavio’s wounds did not. They worsened. The energy Vlad left behind in each slash—laced with runic essence—infected the wounds like a curse, eating away at muscle, ripping veins, and tearing at sinew.

Blood poured from the Earl, even as he tried to push through.