Beyond the Apocalypse

Beelzebub felt as though his entire body had been set ablaze.

The flames did not come from outside. They raged within him, devouring nerves, flesh, and spirit alike. He had quite literally burned a fragment of his own soul to achieve that single, decisive moment. To freeze the flow of time across an entire world—even for the briefest instant—required a sacrifice few beings could comprehend.

It had lasted no more than a heartbeat.

But that heartbeat had been enough.

In that suspended instant, when the winds stopped and the sky itself seemed to hold its breath, the Xaos King had been unable to move. And Beelzebub’s claw—infused with boundless temporal authority—had struck.

The True Depravita of Lust never had a chance.

The temporal power wrapped around his talons crushed through her defenses, bypassed flesh and energy alike, and sank directly into her soul. The force contained within that strike could have shattered the essence of any Lord-tier powerhouse.

Her body now hung limply from his claw, impaled and motionless.

"I won."

The words left Beelzebub’s lips in a low whisper.

A cold, triumphant smile slowly spread across his face as he turned his gaze upward toward the Xaos King suspended in the sky.

They had unleashed devastation beyond measure.

Earthquakes had swallowed cities whole. The capital of the Xaos Kingdom had collapsed into ruin. Millions had perished in the chaos. The warriors who had risen to defend their homeland had been slaughtered without mercy.

And now, the True Depravita of Lust was dead.

With her destruction, they had crippled the path of the True Depravita of Wrath.

The future of their enemy had been severed.

Beelzebub expected something—anything—to appear in Vlad’s expression.

Rage.

Hatred.

Grief.

Despair.

Even silent fury would have sufficed.

But there was nothing.

His face was empty.

Not calm.

Not suppressed anger.

Just... empty.

"Is he in shock?" Baal’s voice echoed inside Beelzebub’s mind through their telepathic link.

It would have been understandable.

Losing a wife. Watching one’s world crumble. Seeing millions die.

Any ruler would falter under such loss.

And yet—

No.

Something was wrong. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Beelzebub felt it instinctively.

The air carried an unease that had nothing to do with victory.

Then Vlad’s shoulders began to tremble.

For a fleeting second, it appeared as if he were about to collapse, overwhelmed by grief.

And then—

"Hahahahahahaha!"

Laughter erupted across the sky.

It was not hysterical.

It was not broken.

It was powerful. Deep. Unrestrained.

It rolled like thunder through the heavens, reverberating across the shattered lands below.

His entire world had seemingly become a graveyard.

Endless lives extinguished.

And yet he laughed.

He laughed so intensely that tears glimmered faintly at the corners of his eyes.

Baal and Beelzebub frowned, their fists clenching as dread began to coil within their chests.

By now, there was no doubt.

Something was terribly, catastrophically wrong.

And then they saw it.

The corpses scattered across the ruined cities began to glow.

A faint golden radiance emerged from beneath broken stone and twisted metal. The bodies of civilians, soldiers, and even children shimmered as if illuminated from within.

One by one, they dissolved.

Their forms broke apart into countless motes of golden light that rose gently into the air before dispersing.

"Divine Power..." Baal muttered, disbelief seeping into his voice.

Those particles were unmistakable.

They were not souls.

They were not remnants of life.

They were Divine Power constructs.

Every single "person" they had slaughtered had been an incarnation.

Their horror deepened when Beelzebub felt a sudden lightness at his claw.

The body of the True Depravita of Lust—still impaled and dripping with fading energy—began to shimmer as well.

Golden cracks spread across her skin.

And then she, too, dissolved into radiant motes that scattered into the wind.

"Impossible!" Baal roared.

Creating incarnations with identical life force and soul aura through Divine Power was theoretically possible—but not at this scale. Not with this level of perfection.

He had fought them.

He had seen their fear, their determination, their hatred.

They had not been hollow puppets.

They had been alive.

Or so he had believed.

What Baal did not know was that when it came to emulating emotion, Overlord operated on a level so refined that Devils—and even the Alien Powers themselves—could be deceived.

Vlad’s laughter slowly faded.

He looked down at them, a wide smile stretching across his face.

"Just how stupid do you think I am?" he asked softly.

His voice was calm, almost amused.

"The moment I chose to conquer the homes of others, I knew that one day someone would attempt to attack mine."

His crimson eyes gleamed.

"I trusted my runic formations and magic seals to keep your kind out. But the Alien Powers have proven remarkably adept at infiltration."

He shrugged slightly.

"So I prepared for failure."

He did not care whether they understood.

He had not orchestrated this for their approval.

"I have been relocating my true people from Terra since the very beginning of the invasion into Hell," Vlad continued. "Slowly. Gradually. Concealed from everyone. Replacing them with Divine incarnations so flawless that even you could not tell the difference."

The smile vanished from his face.

In its place rose something far more dangerous.

Rage.

It ignited around him like a storm of crimson fire, staining the sky blood-red.

"I left decoys behind," he said coldly. "And waited."

The temperature of the world seemed to drop.

"Waited for someone arrogant enough to believe I would entrust my family’s survival to fate."

His hand clenched.

The entire planet trembled violently.

All remaining incarnations across the world melted into rivers of golden energy that surged into the earth. Colossal runic formations, hidden beneath continents and oceans, flared to life.

The surface of Terra began to glow with intricate patterns spanning millions of kilometers.

At the same time, the Nightmare Universe encircling the planet ignited in black flames. The void itself burned as a massive fiery sphere sealed shut around the world.

A prison.

A planetary cage.

Space hardened.

Time thickened.

The very laws of existence grew heavier.

Beelzebub and Baal felt it immediately.

The endurance of the world had skyrocketed. The burning sky radiated a might that made even Paragons wary.

A two-versus-one battle against the True Depravita of Wrath had once seemed ideal. They had believed victory was inevitable.

However, in order to kill "Freya," they had burned through vast amounts of energy, life force, and even fragments of their soul force.

Under normal circumstances, that sacrifice would have been worth it. If they had truly destroyed a piece of the True Depravita of Wrath’s soul, the cost would have been acceptable—profitable, even.

But what had they actually gained?

Nothing.

They had destroyed expendable incarnations—mere Divine Power constructs—and, in doing so, drained themselves significantly.

The two Devil Paragons cursed the Alien Powers with all the fury in their hearts.

They had been sent straight into a trap.

Unfortunately for them, it no longer mattered how they had reached this point. Regret was meaningless.

There were only two paths left.

Fight.

Or die.

"BOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM—!"

The power of the True Depravita of Wrath exploded outward.

The four Sinful Eyes on his forehead flared with immense radiance, each one pulsing with terrifying authority. At the center, the Quantum Eye opened fully, its brilliance extending across Terra as though it were seizing control over every inch of space itself.

The Quietus Sword materialized in Vlad’s hand.

His body trembled as a horrifying bloodline aura surged from within him. The pressure was so overwhelming that the bloodlines inside Beelzebub and Baal’s own hearts quivered in instinctive inferiority.

Before the Devil Paragons could fully comprehend what was happening, a second figure emerged from Vlad’s body.

It was a perfect replica—formed from solidified dark crimson plasma.

A clone.

Under ordinary circumstances, creating a duplicate would not have impressed beings of their level. Paragons had countless methods to produce avatars or incarnations.

But this—

This was different.

The two Devils could sense it immediately.

It was not a hollow copy or a temporary construct.

The entity radiated not only physical strength comparable to Vlad’s own, but also the same unique Sinful Powers emanating from the eyes on its forehead.

"What kind of bloodline power is that?!" Beelzebub shouted, genuine shock breaking through his composure.

This was the Antimatter Doppelgänger—the culmination of Vlad’s Half-Step Empyrean Nephilim Continuum Bloodline.

It was not merely an extension of his will.

It was a parallel existence.

The Doppelgänger could move independently, or Vlad could divide his consciousness between them. Doing so would normally risk splitting focus and reducing battle awareness—but Vlad had already prepared for that weakness.

The Antimatter Doppelgänger’s eyes suddenly glowed with golden light.

An expression of overwhelming pride and arrogance spread across its face as the True Depravita of Pride’s mind took control.

"Heaven’s Gate!"

Vlad and his Doppelgänger roared the words simultaneously.

The sky trembled violently.

Thousands upon thousands of golden portals opened above Terra, illuminating the heavens like a constellation of blazing suns. From each portal, divine weapons began to descend—swords, spears, halberds, and celestial constructs forged of pure authority.

An ocean of god-weapons surged downward, aimed directly at the two Devil Paragons.