Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1027: The future of our race

The A.I. Chip Clone analyzed his own words for a brief moment before shifting his focus to Vlad and the rest of the True Depravitas.

"It is beginning," he said at last, his voice calm yet heavy with implication. "Whatever plot the Alien Powers have prepared for Valhalla... it has begun."

The True Depravitas clenched their fists almost simultaneously. A tense silence followed as the weight of those words settled over the chamber. Their original objective had been clear: implant the Lord Tier bloodlines, fuse the Demon Souls, and only then march into Valhalla fully prepared. That was the path that promised survival.

But time, it seemed, had run out.

Silence reigned as every gaze slowly turned toward Vlad, waiting for the young man to lead them forward. The True Depravita of Wrath closed his eyes for a brief instant, analyzing the situation from every possible angle, before letting out a quiet sigh.

"Marching now is extremely dangerous," Vlad said evenly. "We will be placing our lives directly on the line."

His eyes opened, glowing with fierce conviction and unshakable determination.

"However," he continued, "we cannot simply stand by and do nothing. The threat posed by the Alien Powers is far too great. We must act."

Jormungandr, Freya, Ouroboros, Fafnir—and even Overlord, who normally avoided situations this volatile—nodded in agreement. None of them were naïve enough to believe in hesitation when extinction loomed so close.

Overlord stepped forward and raised a hand. With a flick of his wrist, a holographic projection bloomed into existence, revealing a detailed image of Valhalla. Massive cities glowed across the planet’s surface, each marked with ominous sigils.

"There are currently five cities where the population of Valhalla is being gathered," Overlord explained. "Each one is guarded by a Lord infused with the blood of the Alien Powers. They appear to be waiting for an announcement from the capital."

The projection shifted, zooming toward the planet’s center.

"We will need to act independently once more," Overlord continued. "Five of us will move to these cities. One will march directly into the capital."

As he spoke the final words, Overlord’s gaze locked onto Vlad.

The implication was clear.

Vlad was the strongest among them. He alone possessed the power necessary to confront the Emperor of Valhalla—Antorus.

Vlad’s eyes sharpened, but he did not hesitate. He gave a single, firm nod.

Overlord returned the gesture before turning back to the others.

"Unlike Hell," he said, "our battles with these corrupted Lords here will not be final. We must first understand the nature of what is happening before revealing our presence. Once we move, we must strike swiftly—eliminate the city Lords and advance to the capital."

His expression grew even colder.

"Even if Prime Master is powerful enough to defeat Antorus, the Alien Lord is present in the capital. Vlad must be able to assume his Ultimate Form and fuse with all of you when the time comes."

The True Depravitas responded with solemn nods. The danger was greater than ever, and time was no longer their ally. Valhalla might not know precisely when they would arrive, but after the end of the Vorometallicae Race, it was only natural that an attack was expected.

"There is one more matter," Overlord added. "We will bring several Superior Legends with us, so they can take the civilians away."

A flicker of surprise crossed the faces of the True Depravitas. Saving civilians was never unwelcome—but Overlord was not known for altruism.

His next words clarified everything.

"There is a reason belief matters to the masses," he said coldly. "We cannot allow the Alien Powers to harvest it. We will evacuate the civilians and deny our enemies a weapon."

Awkward smiles appeared among the True Depravitas. Overlord’s way of referring to people as resources was unsettling—but none of them could deny the truth. Antorus and the Alien Lord intended to exploit the population. Saving them was both a moral act and a strategic necessity.

With the plan finalized, the atmosphere shifted. Determination replaced hesitation.

Mobilization began immediately.

Within hours, Vlad, Freya, Ouroboros, Jormungandr, Overlord, and dozens of Superior Legends stood together in the void. Under normal circumstances, cultivating even a single Superior Legend could take decades—sometimes centuries. But war, Demon Souls, and relentless pressure had accelerated Terra’s evolution at an unprecedented rate.

Vlad took a deep breath.

In the next instant, he fused with the other four True Depravitas.

His Ultimate Form activated.

Quantum Expanse unfolded.

The Quantum Eye opened fully—its brilliance joined by the violet-white radiance of the Celestial Eyes. Space itself trembled as if acknowledging his authority, bending subtly under his presence.

With a single wave of his hand, Vlad generated a massive vortex that swallowed the entire group.

There was no violent distortion, no catastrophic rupture. Space merely rippled, folding inward as Vlad exerted his refined control over the Law of Space. In an instant, he transported the group not only into the void surrounding Valhalla—but directly into the planet’s spatial boundary.

It was a testament to his growth.

Without wasting a second, Vlad raised his hand again and opened five portals across the void. Then, just as swiftly, the fusion ended and the group separated.

Vlad’s eyes burned with unwavering resolve as he glanced at Overlord and the other True Depravitas.

They exchanged sharp nods.

Freya, Ouroboros, Jormungandr, Fafnir, and Overlord stepped through their respective portals with their assigned forces.

Vlad did not hesitate.

He flashed forward toward the capital of Valhalla, accompanied by the Royal Guard.

Vlad made certain to suppress the presence of the entire group, weaving his power carefully through space to erase even the faintest trace of their existence. They advanced at a shocking speed, and it did not take long before the capital of Valhalla came into view.

As soon as Vlad drew close enough, his eyes sharpened and his fists clenched.

The dark shadow he had sensed before still loomed over the capital—and it had grown even larger. Its vast silhouette coiled across the sky like a cosmic predator, its unseen maw stretched wide as if ready to consume the entire world. The Alien Lord’s presence pressed down upon reality itself, heavy and suffocating.

The Royal Guards could not see the phantom shape, but they felt it all the same. An overwhelming pressure assaulted their minds and bodies, a silent declaration that this was an existence far beyond anything they could hope to resist. There was no doubt in their hearts—if they faced it directly, they would be erased without even understanding how.

Fortunately, that was not their task.

Their mission was simple: evacuate the people and leave this cursed world behind.

Taking a deep breath, Vlad led the group forward, guiding them toward a stretch of elevated terrain overlooking the capital. From there, they could observe everything. He raised a hand, signaling the others to prepare.

Using the A.I. Chip, Vlad established a mental connection with the other True Depravitas, informing them that he was in position. One by one, confirmations returned. The operation had begun.

Far from the capital, Freya stood among Bloodline Forces who had recently ascended to Superior Legend status. Her expression was tight with worry and barely restrained fury as she looked down upon the scene before her.

Millions of Vikings were packed together like livestock, herded into massive enclosures beneath the open sky. Their eyes were fixed on towering screens broadcasting images from the capital, while corrupted warriors armed with grotesque totems patrolled the perimeter. The sight was devastating.

Seeing the Viking race reduced to this—stripped of dignity, hope, and freedom—sent a sharp pain through Freya’s chest. Her hatred for the Alien Powers deepened, cold and venomous.

Still, the True Depravita of Lust did not allow her emotions to control her actions. She forced herself to breathe, to think. Her gaze swept across the area with ruthless precision until it locked onto a single figure standing at the center of it all.

The being was massive—nearly three times her height—and entirely wrapped in layers of stained bandages, concealing its form completely. Despite that, Freya could feel it. The sheer density of power radiating from the creature made her instincts scream in warning.

"Luckily," she murmured to herself, "I fused with the new bloodline. Otherwise, my chances of surviving against that monster would have been slim."

Across Valhalla, the other True Depravitas had also located their targets and taken position.

Back at the capital, Vlad’s gaze hardened as Antorus appeared atop a colossal platform overlooking the gathered Vikings. The Emperor of Valhalla stood tall, his presence dominating the skyline.

"My people," Antorus boomed, his voice amplified across the city. "Rejoice, for today is a day of glory and opportunity!"

His tone was filled with exhilaration, but instead of inspiring pride, it only deepened the fear gripping the crowd. Whispers spread, panic simmered beneath the surface.

Antorus did not care.

In fact, the fear pleased him.

A cruel smile spread across his face as he raised one hand. Behind him, thousands of massive pods began to rise from beneath the platform, their surfaces slick and organic, pulsing faintly with internal movement.

"This," Antorus declared, "is the future of our race."

Shock and horror rippled through the Viking masses as the pods opened.

Inside were figures that were once Vikings—but no longer truly were. Their bodies had been twisted into abominations, fused with metal and grotesque mutations.