Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1018: The changes of Valhalla

Vlad woke slowly, a rare warmth lingering in his chest.

A faint, genuine smile formed on his face as his gaze fell upon the naked woman resting beside him. Freya lay curled in the sheets, her breathing steady, a peaceful and almost innocent expression softening her sharp, battle-hardened features. For once, there was no tension in her posture, no readiness for violence etched into her muscles.

Only rest.

Lately, their lives had become an endless cycle of blood and struggle. Fight, bleed, break—then rebuild themselves stronger, only for the cycle to begin again. Even a will forged from steel could not endure such a rhythm forever without consequence.

That was why, after completing the Six Suns Galactic Trading Realm, the True Depravita of Wrath had led the forces of the Xaos Kingdom back to Terra immediately.

They had earned rest.

For a brief time, he allowed himself to forget the weight of empires and cosmic threats. He spent those days with the woman he loved, indulging in a closeness they both desired but rarely had the luxury to share. In a world drowned in war and pressure, such moments were fragile—and priceless.

Vlad’s eyes traced the lines of Freya’s body, and desire stirred deep within his heart and soul. For a fleeting moment, he wanted nothing more than to remain there with her, wrapped in warmth, detached from the universe beyond the room.

But that was not a choice he could make.

Carefully, he pulled the blanket up to cover her, ensuring she would not wake. With a thought, his clothes reformed around him, energy and space weaving fabric into place. He took a single step forward—and vanished.

In the next instant, Vlad appeared within the core of the Xaos Tower.

As always, Overlord stood at the command center, nurturing his Archangel body with oceans of Divine Power.

The vast chamber was alive with motion: streams of information, shifting projections, and spatial overlays representing countless regions across Terra and beyond. Overlord’s attention was divided across them all, issuing orders, adjusting logistics, redirecting trade routes, and coordinating the expanding infrastructure of the Xaos Kingdom.

Yet even amid that controlled chaos, his focus was fixed on something else.

He glanced at Vlad and nodded once.

With a casual wave of his hand, the projections filling the room dissolved, replaced by a single massive image.

A world.

"Valhalla," The True Depravita of Wrath said quietly.

A solemn light ignited in his eyes.

The core reason Vlad had moved against the Chaovoratities Plane was not the threat that the Vorometallicae Race presented. They were dangerous, certainly, and their hatred toward the Xaos Kingdom was well-earned—but they were not an existential threat.

Valhalla was different.

What was unfolding there involved a Lord of the Alien Races whose power rivaled that of the Master—the same being whose actions had ignited the Graecia Empire’s civil war. That catastrophe had nearly killed Vlad, the White Death, and countless other powerful figures.

Even when they had finally stopped the Master from escaping the dark dimension, his severed hand had come alive on its own. Destroying it had drained nearly every fragment of strength Vlad possessed.

Now, something similar was stirring again.

And unlike the Zanis conflict, this time Vlad would have to face it alone.

Even if he was capable of drawing the help of the White Death, Valhalla would simply summon its own allies. The conflict would escalate beyond control, spreading into a full-scale cosmic confrontation.

That was why he and Overlord had chosen a different path.

"My drones and spies have already spread throughout Valhalla," Overlord said, his voice calm and precise. "They are continuously collecting information on Antorus’ movements. The situation is deteriorating rapidly."

Vlad exhaled slowly.

"They’re concentrating their forces in the major cities," Overlord continued. "Gathering as many civilians as possible."

Vlad clenched his jaw.

During their last incursion into Valhalla, he and the other True Depravitas had saved hundreds of millions. But Valhalla was vast beyond comprehension, and secrecy had been essential. More than two-thirds of the civilian population had been left behind.

And now they were being herded. Their purpose was unknown, but there was no way it could be anything good.

As Overlord gestured again, new images appeared—figures cloaked in robes, their forms indistinct, their auras dark and oppressive.

"They appeared recently," Overlord said. "Their presence exceeds Legendary Rank. They are Lords—and Alien blood flows through them."

"As expected," Vlad replied.

The news was grim, but not surprising. Removing the Vorometallicae from the board had created a vacuum, and the Alien Lords would never allow such an opportunity to pass unanswered.

"With our current strength," Overlord continued, "we could execute a blitzkrieg operation. Break their formations, eliminate the Lords, save the people, and withdraw before they can fully respond."

The plan was simple—and brutally efficient.

Vlad and Overlord had long accepted that purging the darkness from Valhalla through sheer force was impossible. Instead, they had chosen the second-best option: strike fast, kill the powerful, disrupt the enemy’s plans, and extract as many civilians as possible before retreating.

It would not solve the problem.

But it would buy time—and shatter whatever scheme the Alien Lord was weaving.

Then Overlord’s tone shifted.

"However," he said, "if we act now, there is a significant probability of casualties among the True Depravitas."

"That is unacceptable," the True Depravita of Wrath said immediately, and Overlord agreed.

Jormungandr. Freya. Ouroboros. Fafnir.

They were not merely subordinates. They were family.

Vlad would never sanction a plan that risked their lives.

Overlord, for his part, was unmoved by sentiment. His objection was purely practical. The True Depravitas were the core of the Xaos Kingdom’s power structure. If even one of them fell, the loss would be catastrophic.

Vlad could not forge new incarnations of Gluttony, Lust, Greed, or Envy.

If they died, they were gone forever.

Silence stretched between them.

Doing nothing was not an option.

Fortunately, Overlord already had a strategy.

"We possess the means to secure two of the core components that help us win the Leviathan War."

Overlord fixed Vlad with a menacing, calculating light, the glow in his eyes devoid of hesitation or doubt.

"We can march directly into Hell and the Abyss," he continued. "There, we will claim Devil Lord bloodlines and harvest the souls of Demon Lords. The operation will be swift. If executed properly, it will elevate our power to a level where I am confident every one of us will return alive."

Vlad stared at Overlord in silence.

In his Ultimate Form, Vlad had no difficulty facing multiple Lords of Hell or the Abyss. Such battles no longer posed a personal threat to him. But this plan was different. It required simultaneous engagements across multiple battlefields, each True Depravita confronting a separate Lord at the same time.

There would be no room for delay.

If even one battle dragged on too long, their presence would be exposed. And given the infamy the Xaos Kingdom had accumulated, discovery would be catastrophic. Should the full might of Hell or the Abyss descend upon them, even Valhalla would seem merciful by comparison.

Vlad knew how far Freya and the others had come.

They had grown immensely during their journeys through the Doomsday Worlds, proving themselves capable of standing against Lords of the Vorometallicae Race. Their strength was unquestionable. But this time, they would be deep within enemy territory, surrounded by hostile realms where even a single mistake could mean annihilation.

The True Depravita of Wrath finally spoke, his voice steady but grave.

"Do you have target packages?" Vlad asked. "Locations, power assessments, and candidates with optimal compatibility for bloodlines and souls?"

Overlord nodded immediately.

Streams of information flooded Vlad’s mind—precise data, layered projections, and predictive outcomes calculated with merciless efficiency. Each target had been chosen not only for bloodline compatibility and combat synergy, but also for the highest probability of success under extreme conditions.

Vlad examined everything in silence.

After several moments, he took a deep breath and inclined his head in a solemn nod.

"The packages are flawless," he said. "If everything proceeds according to plan, we will be in and out before anyone understands what happened."

Then his gaze sharpened.

"We move for the bloodlines first," Vlad said. "However—"

A decisive, dangerous light ignited in the eyes of the True Depravita of Wrath as he locked eyes with Overlord.

"I will not be pursuing the Lord you proposed."

Overlord frowned.

That particular target had been selected with meticulous care. The Devil Lord’s bloodline was compatible with Vlad’s combat style, his Laws, and his existing power structure. More importantly, the target offered the highest chance of success with the least risk.

There was, however, another Devil Lord.

One whose bloodline aligned with Vlad’s essence almost perfectly.

The reason that Lord had been excluded from the target package was simple.

The danger was extreme.

The probability of success was unacceptably low.

Yet as Overlord studied Vlad’s expression, it became clear that none of that mattered.