Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1011: The end of the Sacred Kings

The Sacred Kings of the Vorometallicae Race were beings whose very existence inspired dread across galaxies. Entire civilizations had fallen in terror at the mere mention of their names. Stars had collapsed beneath their claws, and worlds had burned in their shadows. Yet now, within the heart of their own home plane, it was they who felt horror blooming in their ancient hearts. The emotion was unfamiliar, almost foreign, yet unmistakably real.

Apophis continued to scream—raw, unrestrained agony—as his internal organs, essence, and soul were devoured by the Nightmare Universe writhing within his chest cavity. His regeneration failed to activate, his power refused to obey.

For the first time since their creation, the Sacred Kings felt the crushing weight of helplessness. Their own lives no longer seemed to belong to them. The battlefield itself trembled at the sight, as the universe made clear that not even apex predators remained invincible forever.

It would have been a lie to claim they did not wish to flee. Allowing the Chaovoratities Plane to fall to the invaders no longer mattered to them. They cared nothing for the fate of the plane, its people, or the remnants of their civilization.

All that mattered was survival. But escape was simply not possible. The power Emperor Brightkin and the other rulers unleashed had reached a level so overwhelming that losing concentration for even a heartbeat would result in a blade through their backs. And even if, by some miracle, they managed to push those rulers away, the battlefield was surrounded.

Lords of the Alliance encircled the area, sealing all exits and ready to burn their very life force if it meant keeping the Sacred Kings trapped. The only reason Altharion and the other lesser Lords could surround them was because many Vorometallicae Lords had fled into the Void Between Worlds, abandoning their rulers to their fate.

Even Altharion, the strongest of the low-tier Lords, could never hope to defeat a Sacred King in direct combat. But he could delay one. He could force them to defend for a second or two—and a second was all Brightkin or Merlin or Ankil needed to land a devastating, possibly fatal blow.

The Sacred Kings burned their minds in desperation, forcing their ancient thoughts to race. There had to be a way out. Some hidden technique. A forbidden art. A sacrificial escape method. Anything. What mattered now, the only thing that mattered, was survival.

But before their frantic minds could find a solution, it happened.

"ZNNNNNNNNN!"

The sound of a blade piercing metal, flesh, essence, and bone echoed across the sky like a cosmic bell. Every Sacred King froze. They turned—and saw the Xaos King’s sword thrust through Dormatu’s back, emerging from his chest in a spray of corrupted light.

Dormatu had been focusing on Emperor Brightkin, his senses spread wide, his awareness devouring the battlefield. And yet he had not noticed Vlad appear behind him. There had been no fluctuation in space, no ripple of time, no warning in causality. One moment the space behind him was empty. The next moment, Vlad was there.

The True Depravita of Wrath, of course, had no intention of explaining the power of the Quantum Expanse Eye. Instead, he poured every drop of remaining strength into his strike, detonating a storm of light, collapsing space, and pure death essence through Dormatu’s chest.

"ARGHHHHHHHHHH!" Dormatu’s roar shook the plane. It felt as if entire oceans of destruction were crashing inside his body, shredding him from the inside out.

But his scream was short-lived.

Emperor Brightkin did not hesitate. He seized the one opening he had sought for so long. His sword of radiant light pierced through Dormatu’s skull, and with a thunderous blast of divine energy and burning life force, he obliterated the Sacred King’s soul.

A wave of horror, disbelief, and sheer panic surged through the remaining Sacred Kings.

Another one of them had fallen.

The Xaos King’s body split apart a moment later, the True Depravitas no longer able to remain fused with his soul, so he could no longer fight. Yet Brightkin did not falter. Exhausted, wounded, and burning the last of his energy, he turned his blazing eyes toward the final Sacred Kings. He had minutes of strength left—but he would use every one of them.

His figure blurred like a comet. In the next heartbeat, he appeared beside Orkin, the Dvergar King.

Orkin flashed a fierce grin at the Faerathian Emperor, and Brightkin returned it with a nod. No words were needed. Their auras erupted, blasting the battlefield apart as they launched themselves toward Sacred King Akorum. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Akorum fought with every shred of power left in his ancient body. Alone, Orkin had pushed him to the brink. With the addition of Brightkin, the pressure became unbearable. Every roar Akorum released shook the sky. Every counterstrike collapsed space. Yet nothing he did mattered. The two rulers drove him further and further back, cutting through his defenses, shattering his authority, and leaving him no room to breathe.

Despair and rage intertwined within Akorum’s heart until finally madness ignited his eyes.

"Fine... then go to hell with me!" With that final snarl, Akorum ignited his body and soul, forcing them to overload with chaotic power before detonating.

The self-destruction tore the heavens apart.

A blinding explosion engulfed the battlefield, forming a massive moon of annihilating energy that devoured everything around it—including Brightkin and Orkin.

For a moment, the Alliance forces held their breath.

Then, out of the raging sphere of destruction, two battered figures emerged.

Brightkin and Orkin fell to the ground, bloodied and burned, their bodies torn by the blast—but alive. Their injuries were severe, but none were crippling. Their cultivation foundations remained intact. They had survived a Sacred King’s suicide explosion—and ensured the monster’s death.

It was more than enough.

With only two Sacred Kings remaining, the battlefield shifted once more. The pressure lessened. Hope surged.

Altharion and the other low-tier Lords no longer needed to spread themselves thin across the battlefield to prevent escapes. Now they could take a direct role—supporting Queen Ankil of the Amazon Kingdom and King Merlin of the Obsidian Dragon Kingdom in their battles against the remaining Sacred Kings.

Their strength might not have been enough to land the finishing blow, but it was enough to distract, to interrupt, to create openings—and in a battle of this magnitude, an opening was everything.

The destruction raging across the highest sky soon converged around the last two remaining monsters of the Vorometallicae: Sacred King Decay and Sacred King Fefnir.

The once-invincible rulers, who had crushed civilizations beneath their claws, were now forced onto the defensive. Queen Ankil of the Amazons and King Merlin of the Obsidian Dragons pressed them relentlessly, their attacks fierce and unyielding. And if that was not enough, the surrounding Lords of the Alliance continuously struck from every angle, hurling spells, weapons, and world-shaking forces into the fray.

For the two Sacred Kings, it was simply too much.

Below them, the situation for the Vorometallicae grew even worse. Most of their surviving Superior Legends had already fled into the Void Between Worlds, abandoning the Chaovoratities Plane entirely. They knew the world was lost, and self-preservation was their only law.

Yet not all could do the same. Ordinary Legends and High Legends lacked the ability to navigate the void; even if they entered it, drifting aimlessly would only prolong their deaths. And the Alliance forces had no intention of letting any of them escape.

To the Alliance, every slain Vorometallicae warrior was a treasure trove—an ocean of majestic metals and rare cosmic minerals contained within their bodies. Each corpse held enough resources to forge countless high-tier weapons, armor sets, and artifacts. Letting them flee would have been wasteful beyond measure.

Thus, death flooded through the ranks of the Vorometallicae. More and more of them fell with every passing minute, their once-dominant army collapsing into disorganized clusters of survivors desperately fighting for breath. The sky shook with their screams, and the earth cracked beneath the weight of so many dying giants.

Then, another explosion thundered across the heavens—a blast so sharp and violent that it momentarily silenced the battlefield.

Crown Prince Altharion, pushing his power beyond its natural limits and accepting wounds so severe they nearly tore him apart, had managed to immobilize Sacred King Decay for just a moment. It was all that was needed.

Queen Ankil surged forward in a whirlwind of fury, her muscles coiling like tempered steel. She drove her blade deep into Decay’s chest, splitting the ancient heart in two. With a savage roar, she dragged the sword downward, cleaving the Sacred King’s massive body entirely in half.

Even for a Vorometallicae Lord, such a wound was fatal. The power that sustained Sacred King Decay flickered. His eyes dimmed, and the towering monstrosity collapsed as his mind fell into a deep coma from which he would never awaken.

Sacred King Fefnir witnessed the death of his kin, and a wave of pure, bone-deep terror washed through him. For the first time since his birth, he felt the icy touch of inevitable demise. That split second of dread—just a moment of lost concentration—was all King Merlin and the surrounding Lords required.

They pounced.

Dozens of overwhelming forces struck Fefnir simultaneously. Merlin slammed his colossal draconic body into the Sacred King with meteoric force, pinning him to the shattered earth. The other Lords unleashed a storm of attacks—blades of light, compressed gravity, cosmic fire, void spears, and raw life-burning power. The torrent hammered into Fefnir again and again, tearing through his armor, crushing his organs, and devouring his soul.

The final blast obliterated his body entirely, reducing the monster to scattered chunks of metal and dust.

Just like that, Sacred King Fefnir—one of the apex rulers of the Vorometallicae—was no more.

And with his fall, the fate of the entire race was sealed.

The deaths of Decay and Fefnir marked the true end of the Sacred Kings, the collapse of the Vorometallicae’s core power, and the final unraveling of a civilization that had once devoured galaxies without remorse.