Beyond the Apocalypse

The Xaos King and the Overlord fought with everything they had.

Again and again, they carved deeper wounds into the bodies of the Devil Paragons, their attacks shaking the heavens and scarring the earth. Blood—dark and corrosive—fell like rain from the sky as Baal and Beelzebub were driven back step by step.

Yet even as Vlad pressed forward, he could feel the growing instability beneath his feet.

Terra had been reinforced. The runic formations were active, the planetary arrays fueled by Divine Power, the Nightmare Universe sealing the world within a burning sphere. But no world, no matter how fortified, could endure infinite destruction.

Every clash between Paragons sent shockwaves through the crust, fractured tectonic plates, and strained the World Will to its limits.

They had managed to save the people of Terra, replacing them with flawless Divine incarnations long before the invasion reached its peak. But the World Will itself still remained—a vast, invisible consciousness that sustained the planet’s existence.

And that Will was trembling.

If the battle continued at this intensity, Terra itself could collapse.

Vlad knew it.

He felt it.

Yet no matter how much it pained him, he could not stop.

Beelzebub and Baal had marched into his home with the intent to exterminate his people. News of this attack would spread across the universe sooner or later. Countless eyes were always watching.

And Vlad needed to ensure that every single entity in existence understood one thing clearly:

There was a price for such defiance.

His crimson eyes turned glacial as he flashed toward Baal, power surging around his blade.

They had already pushed the Devil Paragons to their limits. Baal and Beelzebub had been forced to consume precious trump cards and expend abilities meant for wars of annihilation. Their auras, once boundless, now flickered with strain.

It was time for the killing blow.

Vlad’s Sinful Eyes glowed brilliantly as the Seal of Envy and the Seal of Greed activated to their fullest extent. New veins spread across his body, pulsing like molten metal beneath his skin. His speed skyrocketed. His endurance multiplied. Even the crushing gravity fields Baal wielded began to lose their dominance over him.

The sudden burst of power caught Baal off guard.

The moment sword and spear collided, the world trembled.

The sky cracked like shattered glass as the True Depravita of Wrath roared, forcing Baal back through sheer, overwhelming might. The Devil Paragon was sent flying, carving a canyon through reinforced continents before he could stabilize himself.

But Vlad was already moving.

Before Baal could recover, Vlad appeared ahead of him.

The Eye of Gluttony flared, seizing control of all residual energy flooding the battlefield. Every lingering shockwave, every fragment of Divine and infernal power was drawn inward, compressed into the blade of the Quietus Sword. Gray flames ignited along its edge, roaring like a starving beast.

Vlad swung up.

The flames exploded upon impact, engulfing Baal in a storm of annihilation. The blast hurled him across the sky, tearing into his flesh, battering his defenses, and striking directly at his soul.

And that was only the beginning.

Vlad reappeared behind him, then above him, then beneath him—each movement faster than the last. The Quietus Sword descended again and again, unleashing explosions that blasted Baal from one direction to another like a ragdoll caught in a cosmic tempest.

Beelzebub saw the state of his comrade, and for the first time, a flicker of horror crossed his mind.

Devils did not form friendships. They ruled through fear, ambition, and power. Yet Beelzebub understood something fundamental: if Baal fell here, this would not be the end.

It would be the beginning.

With only one Devil Paragon remaining, Hell would have no chance of halting the path of conquest of the Six Sun Alliance. The balance of power across realms would shatter.

He could not allow Baal to die.

Unfortunately for the Paragon blessed with the Gift of Time, the True Depravita of Pride was pressing him relentlessly. Excalibur sliced through distorted time streams as if they were illusions. Even Beelzebub’s temporal jumps were countered, predicted, cut short.

If he revealed the slightest opening, his head would roll.

There was nothing he could do.

Meanwhile, Baal felt it.

Death.

It crept into his soul like frost, spreading along the threads of his destiny. If he did nothing, Terra would become his tomb.

And when a beast is cornered, it becomes most dangerous.

"ARGHHHH!"

Baal roared with all his strength. Gravity exploded outward from his body, shackling space and time alike. The pressure forced Vlad’s movements to slow, even if only slightly.

Then Baal ignited his life force.

It burned like a miniature sun within his chest.

Recovery from such damage would take centuries, but it was better than death.

The gravitational field intensified, pushing the True Depravita of Wrath backward.

Yet Vlad did not retreat.

The Eye of Envy blazed brighter, accelerating his adaptation to the crushing gravity. His body adjusted in real time, resisting, compensating, enduring. Step by step, he forced himself forward, muscles bulging as the Seal of Greed shifted its enhancement from speed to raw strength.

With a roar, he swung the Quietus Sword with everything he had.

Baal answered with equal ferocity. Channeling all remaining power into his crimson spear, he thrust forward.

The red spear and the Quietus Sword collided.

Two supreme weapons—one born of Hell’s inferno, the other forged by Heaven’s authority—clashed with catastrophic force.

A torrent of destruction erupted in all directions. Space warped. Time fractured. The shockwave incinerated everything within thousands of kilometers. Even Lords would have been reduced to ash merely by drawing near.

Vlad gritted his teeth and pushed harder.

Baal’s eyes widened.

Even after igniting his life force, even after pouring everything into that strike, he was being overpowered.

Horror filled his gaze.

With a maddened roar, he began burning his very soul.

The gravitational torrent surrounding his spear intensified, collapsing inward toward singularity. Space bent violently. The fabric of reality across the entire world warped under the strain.

And then—

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Vlad’s eyes widened.

Cracks spread along the blade of the Quietus Sword.

The weapon, a supreme treasure of Heaven that once belonged to an Archangel—a Paragon in his own right—shattered.

It had been designed to function alongside its rightful wielder’s essence and bloodline. Vlad could wield it, but he could not unleash its full compatibility.

When Baal chose to burn his entire existence, the pressure surpassed the sword’s limits.

And finally—

The Quietus Sword burst into pieces.

True surprise and shock filled the eyes of the True Depravita of Wrath as he witnessed the outcome.

Baal was grievously wounded. His armor was shattered, his flesh torn, his aura flickering like a dying star. He was exhausted beyond measure—his life force burning, his soul strained to the brink of collapse. And yet, even in that state, he had unleashed power capable of shattering a supreme weapon of Heaven.

It was a brutal reminder.

When it came to Paragons, killing them was never easy.

Baal’s soul roared in agony, but he did not fall.

With blood pouring from his wounds, he raised his crimson spear once more and swung it in a wide arc. A torrent of gravitational force surged outward, warping space as it raced toward the Antimatter Doppelganger.

Overlord moved to intercept, crossing his arms to block—but the wave was simply too powerful. It struck him like the collapse of a star and hurled him away, clearing the path and freeing Beelzebub from immediate pressure.

Baal understood the truth as clearly as his comrade did.

Their survival was shared.

If one of them died here, the other would soon follow. Hell could not afford the loss of a Paragon. That was why Baal chose to protect Beelzebub instead of pressing his assault against Vlad.

Not a second later, Baal thrust his spear toward the sky, releasing every remaining fragment of power he possessed.

"ARGHHHH!"

A scream of agony echoed from the countless maws of the Nightmare Universe as the attack tore through its dark expanse. The gravitational singularity ripped open a fissure in the burning cosmic prison, carving out a temporary passage through darkness and flame.

An opening.

Beelzebub did not hesitate.

He seized Baal by the arm and pushed the Gift of Time to its absolute peak. Temporal currents spiraled wildly around them as he accelerated forward, crossing the corridor of fractured space just as the breach began to close.

They burst through into the void beyond Terra.

For the first time since the battle began, smiles appeared on the faces of the Devil Paragons. Outside the planetary seal, the restrictions on space-time weakened considerably. Escape—true escape—seemed possible.

Hope flickered.

And then it was extinguished.

A massive white sun manifested above them without warning.

It descended in silence before erupting in blinding radiance, blasting into the two Paragons with catastrophic force. The explosion nearly sent them crashing back toward Terra’s burning surface.

Fresh wounds tore open across their bodies.

There was no time to recover.

Because he was there.

The White Death.

Alexandro floated before them, his expression colder than the void itself. His eyes burned with murderous intent as the power of Entropy surged around him, distorting the surrounding darkness.

It had taken everything Baal and Beelzebub possessed to escape Terra.

And yet, the White Death had been waiting.

Alexandro raised his hand, preparing to strike again—

But before he could move, the power of time erupted with unprecedented intensity.

Under the stunned gazes of both Baal and Alexandro, Beelzebub vanished.

Silence followed.

Shock appeared in Alexandro’s eyes.

On Baal’s face, disbelief twisted into something far darker.

Betrayal.

Hatred.

"Beelzebub, you piece of—"

He never finished the sentence.

A hand touched his back.

A single word echoed behind him.

"Longinus."

In the next instant, a spear of absolute light flashed forward, piercing through Baal’s back and erupting from his chest in a spray of dark, burning blood.