The True Depravita of Wrath, the White Death, and Overlord exchanged a glance as their eyes landed on the Archangel of Gravity. All three immediately understood the truth—Zamael was the most dangerous enemy to leave unchecked. After all, it was his very bloodline that had been used to forge the runic formation now dragging the Eighth Layer’s landmass down toward destruction.

But none of them would be able to intercept him, as Lucifer, Rafael, and Beelzebub would not let the break free of their fight. There was nothing they could do to stop the Archangel of Gravity.

And yet, there was no fear in their eyes.

No panic.

If anything, there was expectation.

They concealed it well, masking their intent behind cold focus, but Lucifer was not so easily deceived. The leader of the Archangels frowned, a sudden unease creeping into his heart.

Something was wrong.

However, it was already too late for him to do anything.

Zamael had reached the falling sky, his hand stretching toward the glowing runic lines that governed the collapse. Just as his fingers neared them, the landmass directly above him exploded.

A deafening blast shattered the firmament, fracturing an entire continental segment into a storm of meteoric debris.

Zamael’s eyes widened.

That region had been stable.

There was no time to question it. Yet, there was no time for questions.

Instinct took over. The Archangel of Gravity immediately folded his wings around himself, shielding his body as countless fragments rained down.

The maneuver saved him from the devastating impact—but it cost him something far more valuable.

His perception.

The moment he unfurled his wings again, two figures emerged from the shadows of the falling meteors.

His instincts screamed.

Zamael reacted instantly, unleashing a massive gravitational repulsion wave that hurled the surrounding debris away in all directions. The sheer force warped space itself, creating a violent vacuum around him.

But the two figures did not retreat.

They pierced through the gravitational wave.

In the very next heartbeat, they stood before him.

A blade of pure light and a hammer wreathed in thunder struck his chest simultaneously.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!"

A colossal explosion of light and thunder engulfed Zamael, illuminating the collapsing sky. The force was overwhelming—enough to send the Archangel plummeting downward like a meteor himself.

He crashed into the Ninth Layer.

The impact tore through a Divine Kingdom, carving a massive crater through its foundation and sending shockwaves across the entire realm.

All eyes turned toward the impact site.

Then, slowly, they shifted upward.

Two figures stood amidst the falling sky.

Brightkin—the Emperor of the Faerathia Empire.

Orkin—the King of the Dvergar Kingdom.

Their arrival sent ripples through the battlefield. They had been leading the conquest in the Abyss, and their sudden presence here meant that the territories of the Six Sun Alliance in that realm were now at risk.

Vlad knew that.

And yet, he had still chosen to bring them.

Because victory here was worth any risk.

The auras radiating from Brightkin and Orkin left the Lords of the Six Sun Alliance in awe. Even if Zamael had not been at full strength, the fact that they had broken through a Paragon’s defenses was nothing short of extraordinary.

They were no longer ordinary Lords.

The burden of leadership, combined with countless life-and-death battles in the Abyss, had pushed them beyond their limits. Their potential had evolved under pressure, and though they had not fully ascended, they had stepped into the threshold of the Paragon Realm.

The power of cosmic laws coursed through their bodies.

Enough to wound Archangels.

They did not hesitate.

Their sword and hammer collided, merging light and thunder into a single devastating force. The combined energy surged forward, forming a massive beam that tore through the sky and slammed directly into the Divine Kingdom where Zamael had fallen.

"BOOOOOOM!"

The defensive barrier held—for a moment.

Then it shattered.

Unlike before, the Divine Kingdoms were weakened. Though the Styx River had returned the souls of fallen Devils, those souls were not true Divine Servants. They could not generate faith.

Without that support, the Kingdoms were fragile.

The blast of light and thunder surged through the domain, annihilating everything in its path. But just as it neared the crater—

The Singularity Spear answered.

A monstrous surge of gravity erupted, tearing through the beam and dispersing it violently.

Zamael rose from the ruins.

His eyes burned with rage.

It did not matter how powerful Brightkin and Orkin had become—being pushed to this extent by mere Lords was an unforgivable humiliation.

"I will wash my shame with your souls!" he roared.

With a single beat of his wings, he launched himself back into the sky, gravity warping violently around him.

Brightkin and Orkin felt it immediately.

The crushing force.

The overwhelming dominance of a Paragon.

Even wounded, Zamael was still a being beyond their level.

And yet—

They did not retreat.

Their mission was clear: prevent him from interfering with the falling landmass.

Even if it cost them their lives.

They charged.

In the next instant, gravity clashed against light and thunder. Space twisted under the pressure, the energies so dense and chaotic that they formed a vortex around the three, isolating their battlefield from the rest of the war.

Vlad glanced at them for only a moment.

Then his focus sharpened.

Longinus moved.

The spear twisted through space at impossible angles, its strikes bending reality itself. Each thrust carried the destructive force of antimatter and the precision of spatial manipulation.

Lucifer met every attack.

His scythe moved with equal lethality, its power embodying the essence of death. Even the warped dimensions of the Quantum Expanse could not fully evade its reach.

The clash between them intensified with every passing second.

But beneath his cold composure, Lucifer felt it.

The pressure.

The inevitability.

The falling landmass was drawing closer.

Closer.

The destruction it caused had already reached catastrophic levels, and soon it would escalate beyond control.

Silently, Lucifer’s gaze flickered toward the distance—

Toward where reinforcements lay hidden.