"—OWWWWHHHHLLLL—!"

An agonizing, otherworldly scream erupted across the battlefield as millions upon millions of howling spirits surged out of the dark waters of the Styx River. They were twisted beyond recognition—deformed, broken, and fused into grotesque shapes—but even through their corruption, their fiendish nature was unmistakable.

Traces of devilish features clung to them: horns shattered and regrown, jaws split unnaturally wide, eyes burning with endless hatred.

For the Legends, the sight was confusing—terrifying, but unclear in meaning. But the Lords and Paragons that could tap into the most profound principles of the universe understood immediately.

Vlad’s expression hardened as he spoke with a somber voice.

"All the Devils we killed... all the souls we destroyed... they were sent into the Styx River," he said coldly. "And now—they’ve been summoned back."

The implication was horrifying.

He had expected traps. Countermeasures. Perhaps hidden formations or divine constructs placed by Heaven to turn the tide of battle. But this—this was something else entirely. To weaponize souls even after their destruction... such a feat went beyond raw power or talent. It required knowledge refined over countless ages—ancient, terrifying wisdom that only the oldest forces in existence could possess.

The river surged.

Waves of souls rose like a black ocean, each crest formed from densely packed spirits overflowing with bloodlust and madness. They crashed forward without hesitation, driven by pure instinct to destroy.

The Legends reacted instantly.

Blades, spells, and overwhelming force tore into the approaching waves, shattering countless souls. But there were simply too many. And after hours of relentless battle, exhaustion had already begun to take its toll.

Despite their efforts, the waves reached them.

Screams of agony erupted across the battlefield as the corrupted souls tore into the Legends, ripping through armor, flesh, and energy alike. Formations collapsed under the pressure. The coordinated advance of the Six Sun Alliance faltered, and in that moment of weakness, the remaining Devils surged forward in a brutal counterattack.

Casualties spiked.

"DAMMIT!"

Merlin roared in fury as his eyes blazed with power. His body expanded, growing larger and more imposing as he unleashed every ounce of strength within him. The Obsidian Dragon King ignited his Devil Bloodline and Demon Soul to their absolute limits, his aura surging violently as he forced his power to new heights.

With a single strike, he hurled aside the God before him and lunged into the tide of souls, unleashing devastating force that pushed the waves back.

For a moment, relief came.

But only for a moment.

Even Merlin’s overwhelming strength could not hold them back for long. The ocean of souls surged forward again, relentless and unending.

The situation spiraled out of control.

The forces of the Six Sun Alliance were now fighting on three fronts simultaneously: the Gods, the remaining Devil hordes, and the endless tide of tortured souls from the Styx River.

It was unsustainable, and if they did not do something fast, they would all die.

Vlad, Overlord, and the White Death saw it clearly. Their fists clenched in frustration and fury as the tide of battle turned against them in an instant. They had been on the verge of victory—just moments away from breaking their enemies completely.

And now...

Everything was collapsing.

If they did nothing, thousands of Legends would be slaughtered in the next few minutes.

But retreat was not a simple choice.

If they withdrew now, any future campaign into the Ninth Layer would become nearly impossible. They had already sacrificed their Thiamatos Units—an immense investment of resources and power. That sacrifice had been worthwhile when it seemed the Devil hordes were destroyed.

Now, those same deaths had returned as weapons against them.

Their gains had been erased.

Their losses, magnified.

Vlad’s mind raced, burning through possibilities as screams echoed around him. Every cry of a dying warrior tightened his chest, fueling both rage and distress.

Then—

Clarity.

His eyes sharpened, resolve hardening within them as he made his decision.

"Retreat!" Vlad roared. "Fall back to the Eighth Layer! Overlord, White Death—cover them!"

The Antimatter Doppelgänger and the White Death stiffened at the command. Retreating now would put them in a dangerously disadvantageous position moving forward.

But when they saw the determination in Vlad’s eyes, they did not hesitate.

They nodded—and moved.

The army began its withdrawal, fighting defensively as they retreated toward the breach between layers.

Only one figure did not move.

Vlad.

The True Depravita of Wrath fixed his gaze on Zamael, and the killing intent within him erupted like a storm as he charged forward.

Zamael’s lips curled into a radiant smile.

Summoning the Styx River had required immense resources from Heaven—but seeing their enemies forced into retreat made it worthwhile.

He surged forward to meet Vlad head-on.

Longinus and the Singularity Spear collided once more, their clash unleashing devastating shockwaves that twisted space and gravity themselves. The battlefield around them warped under the sheer force of their exchange.

But the pressure on Vlad was mounting.

The moment the rest of the Six Sun Alliance fully retreated, Heaven and Hell would be free to focus all their power on him alone.

And even he could not survive that.

The pressure drove him harder.

Faster.

Stronger.

But speed bred risk.

And in that fleeting instant—

Zamael found an opening.

The Singularity Spear pierced forward, driving clean through Vlad’s left lung.

A victorious grin spread across Zamael’s face.

But it froze the very next second.

Vlad’s hand shot out, gripping the spear tightly—refusing to let go.

And then—

He struck.

Zamael’s instincts screamed danger. Without hesitation, he released the spear and attempted to retreat.

Too late.

Vlad’s eyes blazed as a portal formed before the tip of Longinus, swallowing the weapon’s thrust—

Only for it to reappear behind Zamael.

The Archangel retreated directly into the attack.

"—!"

A scream tore from his throat as Longinus pierced through his ribcage, shattering bone and flesh before slicing his heart.

All eyes turned toward that clash, shock and horror arising in the faces of the Gods and Paragons.