Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1024: Archangel vs Devil Lord

Beneath the First Layer of Hell, where no sky existed and even echoes seemed afraid to travel too far, stretched a massive labyrinthine cave system.

The tunnels twisted endlessly, walls carved by ancient violence rather than erosion. Jagged stone jutted at impossible angles, forming corridors that narrowed without warning before opening into vast chambers filled with stalactites the size of towers.

Rivers of molten rock pulsed through cracks in the stone, casting the labyrinth in flickering red-orange light.

This place was the lowest level of the First Layer, a place where light would never arrive, and whose darkness had seen the death of billions.

At the heart of one of the largest chambers, golden light tore open the darkness.

An impressive being appeared, his wings casting a light that seemed divine, capable of searing the energy of Hell itself.

The one walking through the labyrinth and searing darkness was none other than Overlord.

His expression was peaceful and calm, devoid of emotion, as though he were merely strolling through a quiet corridor rather than infiltrating the domain of a Devil Lord. His steps echoed softly against dark stone as he reached the heart of the maze.

At its center lay a vast circular chamber, large enough to contain an entire city. The ceiling vanished into shadow, and the walls were etched with ancient infernal sigils that pulsed faintly with restrained power. Upon a massive stone throne sat a towering Devil Lord—bald, muscular, and radiating overwhelming authority.

He wore black-and-white armor forged from infernal alloys, its surface threaded with crackling arcs of yellow lightning. His clenched fists sparked with electrical fury, and his eyes burned with sharp, predatory intelligence.

This was Amael, Master of Darkness.

His gaze narrowed as it settled on Overlord.

"An Archangel of Heaven?" Amael asked, genuine confusion flickering through his eyes. He had not expected one of Heaven’s rulers to walk uninvited into his domain.

"Why did you put this golden prison around my domains? I have not interfered with the schemes or plots of Heaven, so you have no reason to face me."

Overlord did not respond.

The A.I. Chip Clone’s calculating, apathetic nature left no room for wasted words—especially with an enemy he had already resolved to kill.

With a single wave of his hand, hundreds of golden portals erupted into existence across the chamber. From each one surged a god weapon, blazing with Divine Power, their trajectories perfectly calculated. Each carried more than enough force to pierce the body of a Superior Legend.

Amael snorted.

A sword materialized in his grip as yellow lightning poured into it, swelling its power exponentially. With a casual sweep of his arm, the Devil Lord shattered the incoming god weapons, reducing them to fragments of divine metal that clattered uselessly against the stone.

"Hmph. If you think that little—"

Amael’s words cut off abruptly.

A golden portal opened directly beneath his feet.

Before his mind could even register the threat, a massive god weapon erupted upward. Amael barely managed to intercept it, placing his sword between the weapon and his chest. The impact hurled him violently into the ceiling of the underground dome.

"BOOM!"

The god weapon detonated on contact, unleashing a massive explosion that shook the entire chamber. Shockwaves rippled outward, and molten stone cascaded from above.

Overlord’s eyes remained cold as he immediately summoned additional portals through Heaven’s Gate, preparing to continue the bombardment.

Then his gaze sharpened.

A spear wreathed in violent yellow lightning tore through the smoke, flashing toward him with terrifying speed.

Overlord summoned Durendal in an instant.

The god weapon clashed against the lightning spear, and although Durendal’s divine durability held, the sheer force behind the attack pushed Overlord backward, his feet carving deep grooves into the stone floor.

With measured effort, Overlord redirected the spear away. At that same moment, Amael appeared above him, moving faster than light.

The Devil Lord brought his sword down in a devastating arc.

Overlord raised Durendal again to block. The impact cracked the ground beneath him, spiderweb fractures spreading outward as the pressure of the blow threatened to crush him into the earth.

"Don’t look down on me, you pigeon!" Amael roared.

The lightning around his blade intensified, growing denser and more violent. The pressure increased relentlessly, stone collapsing beneath Overlord’s feet as the Devil Lord poured more power into his strike.

Yet Overlord’s expression never changed.

His calm was so absolute that it unsettled Amael.

"DIE!" the Devil Lord bellowed, forcing even more lightning into his weapon.

Overlord’s arms finally began to buckle.

At the final moment, he diverted Durendal to the side before making it vanish.

With nothing stopping it, Amael’s sword crashed downward with overwhelming force, severing Overlord’s left arm in a spray of blood.

For a fraction of a second, triumph flashed in Amael’s eyes.

Then Overlord spoke a single word.

"Balmung."

His body trembled violently as blood leaked from his eyes. Summoning a Paragon-Tier god weapon exacted a tremendous toll, even on him. From a golden portal, he drew a thin, single-edged black sword—its presence alone distorting space around it.

Balmung.

A blade rivaling Longinus itself.

Before Amael could react, Overlord swung.

The sword cleaved across Amael’s chest with terrifying precision, nearly bisecting him. The Devil Lord was hurled across the chamber, smashing into the far wall with bone-shattering force.

Amael coughed up mouthfuls of blood. Balmung’s edge cut through infernal flesh as if it were paper, its damage refusing to close.

Before he could recover, hundreds of golden portals opened around him once more.

This time, he was too slow.

God weapons rained down relentlessly, detonating one after another. Overlord’s soul trembled under the strain of merely wielding Balmung, but he endured, maintaining the bombardment until the Devil Lord’s body finally shuddered.

A brief lapse formed in the barrage.

Amael seized the opportunity and fled, dashing through the destruction as the chamber collapsed behind him.

When he finally stopped, his condition was dire.

His left arm hung uselessly at his side, the shoulder pulverized beyond repair. His body was riddled with puncture wounds, burns, and deep gashes that refused to heal.

For the first time, the Devil Lord considered escape.

But this underground throne chamber—built so that none who entered could ever leave—now stood as a cage turned against its master.

Before the Devil Lord could think of any method to turn the situation around, Overlord was already upon him.

Balmung flashed with all its terrible power, its obsidian edge tearing through the air. Never in his long existence had Amael felt the presence of death so intensely. Panic clawed at his mind as instinct seized control, forcing him to fight with everything he had.

The Archangel and the Devil Lord collided in a brutal clash, striking at one another without restraint. Sword met sword with overwhelming force, each impact sending shockwaves tearing through the underground dome. The darkness of Balmung crashed repeatedly against the raging yellow lightning of Amael’s blade, explosive bursts of energy rippling outward and scorching the walls.

Overlord focused everything on offense.

He ignored the wounds opening across his body, ignored the blood spilling from his severed arm’s phantom pain. As long as he could cut the Devil Lord, nothing else mattered. His movements were precise, relentless, driven by cold calculation rather than emotion.

With every passing second, Amael felt the danger grow.

His lightning faltered. His breathing grew ragged. The pressure of Balmung’s presence gnawed at his soul, its very existence rejecting him. Desperation overtook pride as Amael realized the truth—this battle could not be won.

With a roar, he overcharged his sword, forcing it to erupt in a massive explosion of yellow lightning. The blast slammed into Overlord, hurling him backward and carving a deep crater into the stone floor.

Amael did not hesitate.

The instant the opening appeared, he turned and sprinted toward the exit of the dome. If he could reach it, he could activate the failsafe and seal the chamber. It had been designed to prevent prey from escaping—but now it would trap the enemy instead.

Victory, or at least survival, lay within reach.

Then a golden portal opened directly in front of him.

Amael’s eyes burned with desperate determination. He gathered power, prepared to blast through whatever god weapon emerged.

What stepped out was not a weapon.

It was Overlord.

The Archangel moved with speed and precision that surpassed the limits of a normal Lord. In a single motion, Balmung flashed like a falling dark star.

The blade pierced straight through Amael’s skull.

His brain split cleanly in half, and his soul shattered instantly, erased without resistance. The Devil Lord’s eyes froze in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had just occurred even in his final moment.

Overlord stood still, utterly expressionless.

To him, the outcome had always been inevitable.

He waved his hand, retrieving his severed arm and reattaching it seamlessly. Then, with methodical efficiency, he collected the corpse of the Devil Lord—and every single drop of blood spilled during the battle.

Nothing was wasted.