Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1025: True Depravita vs Fallen Angel

On one of the highest points of the First Layer of Hell, where air thinned into silence and clouds broke against jagged stone, a mountain range tore through the sky like the spine of a dead god.

Peaks rose and fell in violent angles, shattered by ancient forces, their cliffs split by abysses so deep that light itself seemed reluctant to descend.

The pocket of gas that flooded the sky was constantly detonating, making the area a death zone for anyone beneath the Lord Rank.

At the very crown of this range, beneath the unyielding God Prison, space behaved... incorrectly.

Distances felt uncertain. A step forward might stretch into a kilometer—or collapse into nothing at all. The wind howled, then vanished, then screamed again from a different direction, as if unsure where it existed.

Floating above a fractured summit was a winged figure.

His form resembled a fallen angel—tall, slender, draped in dark, layered feathers that bled into the surrounding void. His face was obscured by shadow, but above his head hovered a massive, vertical eye, glowing with cold violet-white radiance. The eye did not blink. It did not look.

It measured.

Space bent subtly around him, folding inward and outward in slow, nauseating waves, like reality breathing under his control.

This was Devil Lord Noctyr, Master of the Law of Space.

Standing on the mountain peak and glaring at the Devil Lord was the True Depravita of Wrath.

Vlad analyzed the power of the Devil Lord, and his expression grew somber. "He is at the Peak of the Lord Rank. Maybe even a step in the Paragoon Lord Rank already."

It was not just the raw power of the Devil Lord that made Vlad feel danger.

He felt it.

Not pressure. Not killing intent.

But displacement.

Every instinct told him that the battlefield was already hostile—not because of terrain, but because the rules themselves were compromised.

Noctyr’s wings shifted slightly, and the eye above him trembled.

"So you are also a master of the Law of Space," his voice echoed, arriving from three different directions at once, "I do not know what you want, but you made a big mistake trapping me."

Vlad did not respond. There was no point in wasting words, and the only thing he should think about was killing.

Taking a deep breath, he focused his Depravita Aura and wrathful energy in his weapon. It was a new weapon taken from the sacred treasure of the Vorometallicae Race, an obsidian narrow blade with a sharp edge that seemed to vibrate with space itself.

His figure flickered—and vanished.

In the same instant, three Vlads appeared.

One to Noctyr’s left.

One above him.

One directly behind.

Mirror Images—perfect in presence, weight, and killing intent.

All three struck.

Blades slashed simultaneously, arcs of steel carving toward Noctyr’s core, wings, and hovering eye. The timing was flawless, the angles lethal.

And yet—

The swords reached nothing.

Noctyr’s position folded inward, collapsing like a discarded coordinate. The space where he had been simply ceased to exist for a fraction of a second.

Vlad frowned as he saw his strike fail, the Mirror Images fading as he searched for the Devil Lord. It took a moment, but he found Noctyr, right above him.

The Devil Lord stood upside-down in the air, wings spread, eye rotating slowly.

"Collapse," Noctyr uttered a single word.

The mountain exploded.

Not outward—but inward.

A massive section of rock collapsed into itself, crushed into a spatial singularity that swallowed stone, air, and sound before snapping shut.

The attack came extremely fast and was immensely powerful, so much so that Vlad’s figure was swallowed by it.

Yet, just as it seemed he was to be cursed like the rest of the mountain, he reappeared a heartbeat later several peaks away.

Noctyr did not stop. Before Vlad could stabilize his stance, the eye above him glowed once more.

Space folded like paper around the True Depravita’s limbs, attempting to pin him in overlapping coordinates. His left arm flickered, briefly existing in three positions at once. Pain lanced through him as reality tried to disagree on where he belonged.

Vlad snarled and tore free, teleporting again—this time aggressively.

He appeared directly above Noctyr, blade raised, and sundered.

The strike did not aim for flesh.

It aimed for space.

The air split apart as Vlad’s blade carved through dimensional layers, ripping open a jagged fracture that screamed as it widened. Shockwaves rippled outward, distorting the mountain peaks and blasting Noctyr into the distance, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

Vlad pressed the attack.

He vanished and reappeared repeatedly, blinking across the battlefield in violent succession. Each appearance came with a strike, each strike aimed at severing Noctyr’s control points—wings, eye, spatial anchors that only instinct could perceive.

Noctyr did his best to dodge, but the attack came too fast. However, soon a flash of rage and coldness arose as he pushed his power higher.

Vlad’s sword was about to reach the Devil Lord’s head when it vanished mid-swing!

The True Depravita of Wrath was shocked as he saw the weapon swallowed by a folded pocket of space. In the next instant, it erupted from behind Vlad’s shoulder, emerging from nothingness with lethal intent.

Vlad twisted, teleporting out of the strike by instinct alone. The blade reappeared again—then again—from different angles, his own weapon being used against him.

Wounds appeared in the body of the True Depravita of Wrath, some of them very serious and could have cirplled his battle power if not for his immortal constitution.

However, it did not take long for a burst of wrathful energy to flow into the handle. Space shattered around it, finishing the attack from the Devil Lord.

And as soon as the weapon was whole again, Vlad triggered the full power of the Seal of Wrath, improving his strength, but most importantly, enhancing his domain over space.

With the new power, Vlad buried it in space, making dozens of copies appear all around Noctyr and dive toward him all with lethal intent.

Noctyr’s eye widened.

For the first time since the battle began, space resisted him.

The copies of Vlad’s blade did not behave like normal projections or spatial echoes. Each one carried weight. Presence. Wrath. They did not tear through space—they occupied it, forcing reality to acknowledge them as true points of violence.

Dozens of obsidian blades descended from every angle, emerging from folded dimensions, fractured distances, and inverted vectors. Above. Below. Inside blind spots that should not exist.

Noctyr snapped his wings open, power surging.

"Presumptuous," he hissed.

Space convulsed.

Entire layers of the battlefield peeled back as Noctyr invoked his authority, collapsing multiple dimensions into a single crushing field. The blades slowed, some vanishing, others grinding against invisible walls as distance itself thickened into resistance.

But not all of them stopped.

Three blades pierced through.

One grazed his wing, slicing through feathers and drawing glowing blood.

Another stabbed into his shoulder, pinning him momentarily to a warped coordinate.

The third struck the hovering eye.

Agonizing pain assaulted the Devil Lord, and before he could recover, Vlad was already upon him. His sword descended toward the demon’s neck, its obsidian edge poised to sever head from body in a single, merciless stroke.

Ignoring the pain tearing through his being, Noctyr wrapped his wounded wings around himself. Blood immediately spilled from the torn membranes as the blade bit into them, carving deep grooves through infernal flesh. The wings endured—just long enough.

Just long enough for Noctyr to channel his counterattack.

Or so the Devil Lord believed.

Vlad’s eyes suddenly flared with blinding crimson light. At point-blank range, they unleashed an extraordinarily powerful beam of condensed life-annihilating force. The blast tore through the wings and hurled the Devil Lord into the distance, smashing his massive body across the molten desert.

Vlad landed lightly, a wide smile spreading across his face as he felt the Devil Lord’s life force weakening. It was fraying, unraveling at the edges. Victory was close—painfully close.

Then the world screamed.

A pillar of energy erupted from Noctyr’s body, tearing through the sky. The colossal eye hovering above him began to weep blood, crimson streams falling like rain upon the burning sand.

"Enjoy every atom of your existence being displaced across countless dimensions."

The Devil Lord’s roar shook the sealed realm as his power surged beyond its previous limits. In the next instant, the bleeding eye released a massive cannon of spatial energy.

Reality itself warped around the beam. Space folded, twisted, and collapsed as atoms were torn apart and flung into different dimensions, their bonds severed as if they had never existed.

The ultimate attack rushed toward Vlad.

Yet the True Depravita of Wrath did not flinch.

Drawing a slow, steady breath, Vlad gathered every ounce of strength he possessed into his sword. His grip tightened. His presence sharpened until the world seemed to narrow around him alone.

Just as the spatial cannon was about to engulf him, Vlad opened his eyes and brought the sword down.

There was no explosion. No clash of energy.

Instead, reality split.

The cannon was cleaved cleanly in half, its spatial distortion unraveling into silence. A heartbeat later, the Devil Lord himself shuddered—then suffered the same fate, his colossal form divided into two equal halves as the sealed realm fell deathly still.