Agonizing pain assaulted the Archangel of Gravity. Even for an entity of Zamael’s caliber, having his heart nearly cleaved apart was a devastating injury. The only saving grace was that the spear had not pierced straight through—it had sliced along the lower edge of the organ instead.

But even that was catastrophic. The overwhelming, destructive force contained within Longinus surged into his body, threatening to tear him apart from within. In less than a second, it would pulverize his heart, and even a Paragon would collapse after that.

Driven purely by instinct, Zamael reacted instantly.

A torrent of gravitational power exploded outward from every fiber of his being, locking space itself in place. The force froze both the spear and the True Depravita of Wrath before him, halting Vlad’s momentum completely.

Vlad clenched his teeth, muscles straining as he tried to move—but he couldn’t.

And then it got worse.

From the void, a scythe materialized.

It flashed forward with lethal precision, severing Vlad’s right arm in a single, clean motion. Before he could react, a brutal kick slammed into his face, sending him crashing through the air as blood burst from his mouth.

The attacker revealed himself.

Lucifer.

The leader of the Archangels had entered the battlefield.

Without wasting a second, Lucifer reached for Longinus, his hand moving to seize the Supreme God Weapon. But just as his fingers were about to close around it, the weapon vanished—returning instantly to Heaven’s Gate.

Lucifer’s expression darkened, fury igniting in his eyes.

He turned his gaze toward Vlad.

Despite having lost an arm and being driven into the ground, the True Depravita of Wrath rose once more. Blood dripped from his wounds, but his posture remained unyielding. His crimson eyes locked onto Lucifer’s, burning with defiance.

Moments later, Zamael stabilized himself, while Rafael and Beelzebub appeared on either side of Vlad, sealing every possible escape route.

The battlefield fell silent around them.

The rest of the army had already retreated through the breach into the Eighth Layer. Vlad stood alone.

Outnumbered.

Surrounded.

Facing four Paragon-level enemies.

And yet—

He smiled.

A radiant, almost mocking grin spread across his face. There was not a trace of fear in his eyes.

"BOOOOM—!"

His aura exploded outward.

The power of his Unity Bloodline surged, releasing a crushing pressure that forced even the Paragons to frown. The sheer density of his energy distorted the surrounding space.

Yet, none of them stepped back.

"You really think I can’t take all of you at once?" Vlad said, his voice filled with murderous intent.

His aura flared violently, wrath pouring into the Ninth Layer like a storm. When leading an army, restraint and clarity were essential—but now, alone, he allowed the full extent of his fury to surface.

His killing intent surged higher and higher—

Until it stopped.

The wild rage in his eyes vanished.

Replaced by something far more dangerous.

Cold.

Calculating.

"Well... you’re right," Vlad said calmly. "But if I want to leave, none of you pigeons can stop me."

The moment those words left his mouth, Lucifer moved.

Rafael and Beelzebub followed instantly.

Death, time, and stasis converged into a single overwhelming assault. Their combined power tore through reality itself, sealing space and leaving no room for escape. It was a perfect killing strike—one that could erase even a Paragon from existence.

Vlad felt the crushing pressure.

Felt the space around him lock.

Felt the inevitability of the attack.

And then—

He smiled.

Antimatter and spatial energy collided around his body, warping reality at a deeper level than the Paragons’ control.

He stepped beyond their grasp.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM—!"

The combined attack detonated, unleashing catastrophic destruction across the battlefield.

But their target—

Was gone.

Rage ignited instantly in the eyes of the Archangels and the Devil Paragon.

They turned toward the breach between the Ninth and Eighth Layers—

And saw him.

Vlad stood at the edge of the opening, his figure calm and unmoving. His gaze swept across the Ninth Layer one final time.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

It was the gaze of someone marking everything before him for destruction.

Then, without another word, he stepped through the breach.

He was gone.

—

The moment Vlad returned to the Eighth Layer, his expression darkened.

The battlefield there told its own story.

The loss of the Thiamatos Units did not trouble him—they were tools, constructs no different from armor. Replaceable.

But the Legends...

That was different.

Vlad closed his eyes briefly, his soul expanding outward to scan the entire army. What he felt made his fists clench so tightly that blood began to drip from his palms.

"More than eight hundred and fifty Legends... are dead."

The words were heavy.

That was nearly seven percent of their entire force.

Each Legend represented decades of effort—training, resources, and survival through countless battles. They were not easily replaced.

If this had been a victory, such losses might have been acceptable—a sacrifice for the survival of their people.

But this—

This was failure.

Yes, they had reduced the Devil horde to a third of its original size. But with the emergence of the Styx River and the return of the broken souls, Heaven’s total losses amounted to less than five percent of their overall war strength.

The cost...

Had not been worth it.

Vlad exhaled slowly as the Antimatter Doppelgänger merged back into him. Moments later, Overlord appeared, his expression calm but grave.

He gave Vlad a brief nod before immediately taking command—issuing orders, stabilizing formations, tending to the wounded, and restoring order to the chaos.

Vlad did not stay.

In the next instant, he vanished—teleporting to a secluded stronghold within the Eighth Layer.

Alone.

Silence surrounded him.

He raised his hand, and a stream of blood materialized before him, floating in the air.

It was not ordinary blood.

It shimmered with darkness and light intertwined, its very existence distorting the space around it.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed as he stared at it.

"I failed to destroy his heart..." he murmured.

A faint, dangerous smile appeared on his lips.

"But at least... I got his bloodline."