Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1001: Victory across worlds

The last of the battlefields was the Land of the Three Calamities. Though no True Depravita fought here, the destruction was no less catastrophic than in the other Doomsday Worlds.

The Voroe Lord sent by the higher powers of the Vorometallicae Race to this front was a monstrosity unlike any other. His body was a twisted mockery of humanoid form, part flesh, part armor, all abomination. His skin was dark and jagged, a seamless fusion of organic sinew and metallic plating.

His face, disturbingly human-like for a Voroe, was half-covered by a hardened mask that resembled an exoskeletal plate. Sunken eyes glowed faintly behind it, radiating malice and cruelty, and his elongated arms ended in claws as sharp as blades.

His name was Polaris, a name whispered in terror even among the Lords of Hell and the Abyss. He was a slayer of worlds, a butcher who had crushed countless foes beneath his claws. But on this day, he faced a man who had survived horrors that would have driven even Demons and Devils into madness.

That man was Crown Prince Altharion, son of the White Death herself.

Altharion’s glaive moved with perfect precision and ruthless determination as he clashed again and again against the Voroe Lord’s dark claws. Each strike was met with an explosion of light and shadow. Golden radiance collided with waves of dark plasma, their clash shaking the sky and splitting the very earth beneath them.

Neither side yielded.

Altharion fought with a single purpose, to win. A victory here could harm one of the most powerful enemies of the Empire and pave the way to ultimate triumph.

Polaris, on the other hand, thought of nothing but destruction. His instincts were simple: kill, consume, annihilate. He was not born but built, a killing machine forged by the hands of the Vorometallicae’s supreme engineers, designed to hunt and erase all life that opposed them.

That cold, unfeeling nature was what made him so dangerous.

Polaris allowed the glaive to strike his left shoulder, allowing an opening.

He pressed forward for the killing strike, his left arm flashing toward the prince’s neck.

That was a killing blow, but Altharion showed no fear. The fact that there were no True Depravitas here did not mean he was alone.

A figure appeared in a storm of lightning and intercepted the Voroe Lord’s claw. Marshal Maximo’s entire body crackled with energy as he caught Polaris’s clawed hand in both arms, his muscles straining, his armor cracking under the immense pressure.

For a brief moment, it seemed he might be overwhelmed, until another presence appeared beside him.

Space itself rippled and folded. From the distortion stepped Spartacus, his sword glowing with ethereal light. The warrior let out a roar that echoed like a thousand battle horns as he swung his blade downward. The weapon cleaved through the air, slicing not only through matter but through the very fabric of space itself.

A sound like tearing reality filled the battlefield.

"ZNNNNNNNNNN—!"

The blade struck true. It cut deep into Polaris’s elbow joint and severed his arm entirely.

"RAAAAGHHHHHH!" The Voroe Lord screamed, a sound so sharp and primal that it made the sky tremble. Black ichor spilled from the wound like molten tar, burning holes into the earth below.

But Polaris was far from finished. His tail whipped around with terrifying speed, striking all three men at once. The impact sent them flying through the air, slamming them into the fractured ground. The force made their insides quake, blood spilling from their mouths. Yet as they rose, battered and bruised, smiles appeared on their faces, especially on those of Maximo and Spartacus.

Through countless battles and near-death trials during the civil war, and with the Empire’s greatest treasures at their disposal, they had transcended Legendary limits, becoming Half Step Lords.

Then, exposure to the nebular radiation that had been unleashed by the fall of the Zanis Homeworld had reforged their bodies and souls. They now wield the power to harm even divine entities.

They could not face a Voroe Lord alone, but together, and alongside the Crown Prince, they could stand.

The trio exchanged a single look. Determination blazed in their eyes as they lunged forward once more, giving Polaris no time to recover.

The Voroe Lord roared in fury and defiance, his body erupting with raw power. The ground beneath him melted as he hurled himself at them again, his killing intent like a storm that devoured the light.

---

In the Esmeral Abyss, the daughter of the Amazon Queen, Oniri, stood against the monstrous Voroe Lord known as Ox.

The titan’s double-headed weapon crashed down with force enough to split mountains. Oniri barely managed to raise her golden shield in time, the collision sending a shockwave that shattered the landscape. The blow hurled her across the battlefield, blood spilling from her lips as she crashed through a mountain range.

But even wounded, she smiled.

The reason became clear a heartbeat later.

Ox’s cruel grin widened as he watched her struggle to rise—until his instincts screamed. He felt danger, deep and primal, crawling up his spine. But it was too late.

From the sky descended Freya, the True Depravita of Lust. Her body blazed with a violet light that twisted between allure and annihilation. The air shimmered as she fell like a comet, her sword raised high.

The Voroe Lord turned to defend, but was not fast enough.

Before Ox could react, Freya’s sword pierced through his chest. Her eyes glowed with power as the Seal of Sin activated, mirroring the strength of her enemy. Power surged through her veins as she channeled the Voroe Lord’s own might against him.

A scream tore through the sky as Freya’s blade twisted, ripping through the creature’s chest. Rivers of glowing dark blood poured from his chest, staining the ground beneath him.

----

Fafnir’s body was covered in bruises, his Depravita Aura flaring violently as it struggled to heal the wounds that appeared faster than even his regeneration could manage. Every breath he took was fire, every movement agony, but his resolve did not waver. Determination and defiance burned in his heart brighter than any flame.

With a roar that shook the firmament, the True Depravita of Envy grew to his full, monstrous size. His fiery aura surged outward as his body expanded into a towering figure of muscle and power. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Drixal from behind, locking the massive Voroe Lord in a crushing grip.

Drixal howled, his molten armor blazing with fury. His energy erupted outward in violent pulses, each burst strong enough to melt mountains and scorch the sky. The power burned deep into the True Depravita of Envy’s flesh, carving glowing wounds across his body, but his Seal of Sin allowed him to endure.

Instead of screams, what erupted from Fafnir’s throat was a roar of unbreakable determination.

"Do it!" he bellowed, his voice carrying through the battlefield like thunder.

At that command, Lancel unleashed his fury. The Obsidian Dragon spread his colossal wings, the air trembling beneath his power. He inhaled deeply, his chest glowing with crimson light as molten energy gathered in his throat. Then, with an earth-shattering roar, he released it all in one overwhelming beam—a cannon of pure dragonfire that struck Drixal point-blank.

The blast engulfed both the Voroe Lord and the True Depravita of Envy in a cataclysmic explosion. The sky turned white. Fire and chaos consumed the world, the shockwave tearing through the molten plains and ripping apart the sky. The roar of destruction echoed across dimensions.

---

Elsewhere, within the Land of Ice and Fire, the battle between Horin and Mazigner reached its apocalyptic climax.

The massive coils of Jormungandr, the World Serpent, encircled them both, trapping the combatants within a storm of writhing scales and devouring power. The True Depravita of Gluttony’s eyes glowed like suns.

The Dvergard Prince and the Voroe Lord clashed once more, their blows shaking the world. Mazigner’s energy exploded outward, releasing a blazing inferno that melted the ground and air alike. The destructive fire tore through everything in its path, searing into Jormungandr’s body. But the True Depravita of Gluttony endured. He did not retreat.

Instead, his devouring power surged forth. He latched onto the raging storm of the void itself, dragging its chaos down into his coils. With a hiss that split reality, Jormungandr unleashed that stolen storm into the cocoon of energy he had created around his prey.

The detonation was apocalyptic. Lightning, flame, and void-fire collided in a maelstrom of annihilation. Horin’s stone body stood firm within the chaos, protected by his affinity for thunder and storm—but Mazigner’s metallic frame began to melt beneath the unbearable heat. His screams echoed through the blazing skies before being swallowed by thunder.

---

And finally, in the Dark Land, silence fell.

The world trembled one last time as Vlad and Akai stood side by side amid the ruins. Their swords pierced clean through the chest of Astarion, the Voroe Lord’s massive body frozen mid-motion