Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1023: Battle on the lake of light

There was a strange lake in the First Layer of Hell, made not of liquid but of light. Floating above it was a towering crimson figure, seemingly forged from living radiance and sharpened flesh. His elongated body was plated with jagged, armor-like growths that glowed from within.

A single immense eye crowned his head, set within a fractured halo. Pale currents of crimson light spiraled around him, bending in obedience, as if illumination itself recognized his authority.

He was Devil Lord Fulgarion.

Coldness filled his eye as he saw that not even light could escape the God Prison. He then turned his gaze toward the Viking woman walking forward.

"I assume that killing you will set me free."

Freya did not utter a single word. She tightened her grip around her sword and shield as her killing intent exploded outward, golden light flowing across her figure.

The lake of light became solid beneath their feet as they walked toward each other.

Fulgarion moved first. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

He did not charge.

He aimed.

With a slight tilt of his lance, the light around Freya turned against her. Beams rose from the lake and curved mid-air, striking from the sides, above, and below at the same time. The attacks were clean and efficient, each ray targeting joints, sightlines, and balance points rather than raw damage.

Freya reacted instantly.

She raised her shield and advanced.

Her shield absorbed the first wave, light bursting across its surface like shattering glass. She did not stop to block everything—she let the shield take what it could and used her sword to cut open paths through the rest. Each swing was deliberate, wide enough to clear space but controlled enough to keep her footing on the unstable surface.

Fulgarion adjusted.

Reflections formed.

Freya’s image appeared beneath the lake and along its surface, each reflection twisting into a hostile angle. Lances of light fired from those reflections, forcing her to turn, block, and reposition constantly. Fulgarion was not trying to overwhelm her—he was dissecting her rhythm.

After seeing enough, the Devil Lord advanced slowly, lance always aligned, waiting for an opening.

Unfortunately for the Devil Lord, the True Depravita of Lust was not the kind of warrior who allowed others to take control over the tempo of the fight.

So Freya broke the pattern.

She lowered her stance and charged straight at him.

Instead of reacting to each beam shot by her reflections, she committed fully, letting her shield take repeated hits as she closed the distance. Light burned into her armor and skin, but her momentum never stopped. She slammed her shield forward, not to block—but to strike.

Their weapons clashed.

Sword met lance in a sharp, ringing collision that sent ripples through the lake. Freya followed with a shield bash aimed at his torso. Fulgarion twisted aside with fiendish precision, the shield grazing his side as he countered with a thrust meant for her throat.

Freya knocked it aside and rolled past him, boots skidding across the radiant surface.

Fulgarion turned instantly.

His movement was minimal, efficient—no wasted steps, no flourish. He vanished in a streak of crimson light and reappeared at Freya’s flank, striking multiple times in a single breath. Each hit was exact: shoulder, hip, ribs, calf.

Freya staggered.

But she did not fall.

She raised her shield again, bracing through the pain, and swung her sword in a tight arc that forced Fulgarion to disengage. Her style was direct, aggressive—built around pressure, control, and refusing to give ground even while wounded.

Fulgarion hovered backward, studying her.

"You are stronger," he said calmly. "But your fate is already sealed, little girl."

The lake answered him.

Light condensed into thin, razor-sharp lines that swept toward Freya in synchronized waves. She planted her feet and met them head-on, shield up, sword moving in tight defensive patterns. Sparks of gold and crimson erupted with every impact.

Although she was holding her ground, slowly Freya’s breathing became ragged, showing just how intense the battle was.

Her armor was scorched. Blood ran from shallow but numerous wounds. Yet her stance remained solid, her gaze unwavering.

She took another step forward.

Then another.

Fulgarion tightened his grip on the lance.

For the first time, he leaned fully into the attack.

He surged forward, striking faster, his lance weaving through space with surgical precision. It was like seeing a comet spread across the lake, the power to pierce moons.

Freya unleashed all her power and blocked the attack, her shield dented. And that was just the start as more and more thrust was unleashed. She blocked most of them and also responded to many with her sword.

Her power and skills were incredible for a Superior Legend, but she was still being pushed back, step by step, forced into defense.

However, it was not all for nothing. The True Depravita of Lust was learning.

Every strike she endured, every angle she survived, sharpened her timing. Her movements grew tighter. Her reactions faster. She began to anticipate where Fulgarion would strike before he moved.

The lake of light rippled violently beneath them as they clashed with a power that sent the Devil Lord and True Depravita flying in different directions.

Freya stood still, and a small smile appeared on her face as she had finally succeeded.

The Devil Lord noticed the change in her stance, and what happened next left him shocked. He saw how, other than her golden light, she also begna ot summon his crimson light, fusing the two around her body and weapons!

Of course, Freya had no intention of explaining to Fulgarion the nature or powers of her Seal of Sin. Instead, she allowed her own power—and the power she had copied from the Devil Lord—to rise to their zenith before unleashing her full killing intent.

With a single wave of her sword, she released a massive arc of light that slammed into the Devil Lord with overwhelming speed and force.

---

Fulgarion roared as his body was hurled across the lake of light, his form tearing through layers of condensed radiance and scattering crimson shards in his wake. The surface rippled violently, waves of illumination crashing upward like frozen explosions as he struggled to regain control.

Before he could stabilize—

Freya was already there.

She descended from above like a falling star, both sword and shield wrapped in a spiraling fusion of golden and crimson light. The air screamed as she brought her blade down, the strike landing squarely against Fulgarion’s chest.

The impact detonated outward, driving the Devil Lord downward, his body partially submerged in seething radiance.

Even if he was being overwhelmed by the rising power of the women, the Devil Lord did not just stand still.

Fulgarion surged upward in fury, his lance flashing as he unleashed a storm of thrusts, each one carrying enough power to annihilate a meteor. Space bent with every strike, light folding inward as his authority tried to reclaim dominion.

Freya met him head-on.

She did not dodge.

She did not retreat.

She mirrored.

Each thrust Fulgarion unleashed was answered by an identical motion from Freya, her body moving with his speed, his precision, his overwhelming momentum. Sparks of mixed gold and crimson erupted endlessly as sword and lance clashed again and again.

Fulgarion’s eye widened.

His attacks were being returned perfectly—angle for angle, timing for timing—yet layered with Freya’s own brutal force and warrior instinct. What had once been immaculate execution was now turned against him with savage intent.

"You dare—!" he snarled, insulted by the women’s ability, but the True Depravita of Lust did not care.

Freya drove her shield forward, smashing into his lance and knocking it aside. She stepped into his space, close enough that his radiance scorched her skin, and unleashed a flurry of strikes. Each blow landed with devastating effect, the copied power tearing through his crystalline flesh and shattering armor-like growths into fragments of dying light.

The wounds on Fulgarion reached a critical point, and his control over the lake faltered.

Reflections collapsed. Hostile beams flickered and died. The vast sea of light beneath them dimmed, its obedience wavering as its sovereign was pushed back by his own stolen authority.

"No..." Fulgarion hissed, wings flaring as he tried to pull away, trying to retreat.

Freya would not allow it.

She slammed her shield into his side, anchoring him in place, then twisted her blade and drove it through his abdomen. Crimson light exploded outward as the sword pierced deep, tearing through his core. Fulgarion screamed, the sound refracting endlessly across the lake as his form destabilized.

The eye of the Devil Lord trembled for a few seconds as it finally lost its light. The soul shattered, and his life was over.

Freya finally relaxed once the battle was over, and a small smile rose on her face, but soon solemnness arose in her face as she turned toward the core of the First Layer.

She trusted Vlad’s abilities, but his enemy was a Devil Lord who had experienced no defeat. However, there was not much she could do other than to thrust in his abilities.