Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1028: Divine backlash

All the Vikings still loyal to Odinvaldr across Valhalla were drowning in horror and despair.

Seeing their people reduced to those abominations tore something fundamental from their souls. The despair did not come only from revulsion, but from understanding. They could feel it—the immense power radiating from the creatures born of corruption. That power mocked everything Odinvaldr had taught them.

The Primordial God’s laws were clear. Strength was to be earned through struggle, honor, and battle beneath the gaze of the gods. What stood before them now defied those laws entirely. These hybrids gained strength not through valor, but through degradation and violation of nature itself.

Worse still, the abominations were truly powerful.

Watching that corruption grant such overwhelming strength left the faithful Vikings lost and broken. Their Primordial God remained silent as the travesty unfolded. Warriors rose through sacrilege, while those who remained loyal were weakened, herded, and treated as cattle.

Vlad felt every emotion coursing through the hearts and souls of the Viking people. Their despair washed across Valhalla like a tide. He sensed their Totems flickering, growing dimmer by the moment, their connection to the Primordial God of Bloodshed and Battle weakening under the weight of hopelessness.

A menacing light appeared in the eyes of the True Depravita of Wrath as he focused on Antorus and the towering pods.

More importantly, Vlad could see what others could not.

The shadow looming above the capital was extending its tendrils, reaching toward the innocent Vikings below. It fed on despair and fear, slipping through cracks in their faith, invading their Totems and corrupting them from within. Had their belief remained strong, they might have resisted—but their faith was already on the brink of collapse.

So this was the true goal.

"Replenishing the Vorometallicae was only a side mission," Vlad realized coldly. "The Alien Lord wants to shatter the faith behind the Primordial God... and then take it."

His fists clenched.

The more Vlad learned about the Alien Powers, the more terrifying they became. He had grown immensely, led wars, and helped extinguish one of the strongest races in the universe. Yet even he could not directly interfere with a Primordial God.

Those beings were immortal, some as old as the universe itself, existing within higher dimensions beyond mortal reach.

And yet, the Alien Powers treated even them as obstacles to be dismantled.

Still, a slow smile spread across Vlad’s face as he continued to watch the pods.

Antorus stood at the peak of triumph. He could feel it—the swelling domain of his master, the Alien Lord’s presence growing stronger with every second. As that power expanded, Antorus believed his own fate was assured.

As for selling out his entire race?

His soul had long since rotted. Twisting his own people into monsters was nothing more than a necessary sacrifice.

"Rejoice," Antorus thundered. "Rejoice, rejoice, and face the future!"

At his command, the pods began to open.

The Hybrid Voroe-Vikings stirred within, awakening at last. Their eyes were empty—devoid of wisdom, memory, or ego. They looked less like living beings and more like weapons awaiting activation, creatures without will, existing solely to obey.

Then the power erupted.

Each hybrid exploded with energy, pillars of violent force surging skyward. Storm clouds gathered instantly, churning with unnatural fury as lightning ripped through the heavens.

Every soul in Valhalla witnessed it.

The abominations stood revealed, their might undeniable. Despair deepened across the land, threatening to snuff out what little faith remained.

Above the capital, the phantom shadow curled in satisfaction. A wicked, silent smile formed as it pierced deeper into the Totems of Odinvaldr, creeping into the souls and minds of every Viking still watching.

Victory was within its grasp.

And then—

"Puack!"

One of the hybrids suddenly spewed a mouthful of dark, viscous blood.

Moments later, another did the same.

Then another.

And another.

Confusion rippled through the crowd as the metallic components of the hybrids began to corrode. Flesh blackened and split. The fusion between metal and living tissue destabilized violently, as if a lethal organ rejection had been triggered.

Arms clanged against the stone as they fell away. Flesh sloughed from bone, melting into formless ruin.

The hybrids screamed.

Shock and horror seized the Vikings as they watched every single Voroe-Viking hybrid collapse into grotesque death. Their bodies tore themselves apart from the inside, metal and flesh rejecting one another in a spectacle of utter annihilation.

But slowly, something changed.

The horror transformed.

Awe replaced fear.

Smiles—hesitant at first, then spreading—appeared on the faces of the faithful.

What they had wanted was a sign.

A declaration that Antorus and the rulers of Valhalla were wrong. Proof that this path—this defiance of divine law—was not salvation, but damnation.

Until now, all they had seen were those who broke Odinvaldr’s codes growing stronger.

But now, they witnessed the truth.

There was a limit.

And when that limit was crossed, the punishment was absolute. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The eyes of the loyal Vikings began to glow. Their Totems flared back to life, burning brighter as faith surged anew.

"ARGHHHHHHHH!"

A scream of pure agony tore through the sky.

It came from deep within the capital—from the Alien Lord itself.

Its attempt to invade the Totems had backfired violently. Divine law reasserted itself, unleashing a ferocious backlash. At the same time, Antorus and all who bore corrupted Totems began to tremble uncontrollably.

Blood streamed from their eyes.

Some were too weak to withstand the divine recoil. Their internal organs ruptured, bursting apart as they collapsed, vomiting blood until life abandoned them.

"Hahahaha... excellent."

Vlad’s laughter rang with exhilaration as he watched the scene unfold.

Long before the war against the Vorometallicae had ended, he had interfered with the pods. He had altered the hybrid genomes subtly, ensuring incompatibility between the alien and Viking components.

He had done it out of mercy—to spare them a future as enslaved abominations.

But that act of compassion had become a devastating weapon.

A blow not only against Antorus, but against the Alien Lord itself.

Of course, the True Depravita of Wrath did not allow the thrill and excitement of seeing his enemies suffer catastrophic wounds to distract him. His expression hardened instantly, focus returning like a blade snapping back into alignment. Without hesitation, he shouted, his voice carried through the A.I. Chip and echoed across every battlefield.

"Now!"

Overlord and all the True Depravitas nodded at the same time. This was the perfect opening—the only moment when the defenses of Valhalla’s rulers were fractured enough to act.

Vlad moved first.

In an instant, he teleported above the capital alongside the Royal Guards. His psychic power and soul force erupted outward, sweeping across the city like an invisible tide. Space itself bent under his will as he activated the Law of Space at full capacity, seizing control of every civilian present.

Thousands—then millions—of Vikings vanished in flashes of distorted light, drawn into multiple spatial treasures prepared in advance.

Under normal circumstances, such an act would have been nearly impossible. Antorus and the corrupted Vikings would have flooded the area with their energy, locking space in place and disrupting any large-scale spatial manipulation. But now, they were too busy choking on blood, their bodies wracked by divine backlash and internal collapse.

They could not interfere.

As soon as the last civilians were secured, Vlad hurled the spatial treasures toward the Royal Guards. The elite warriors caught them without hesitation.

Not a single second was wasted.

The Royal Guards turned and vanished into the void at full speed, tearing through space with absolute precision. Their mission was clear—put as much distance as possible between the rescued Vikings and Valhalla.

They were not alone.

Across the planet, five brilliant streams of light erupted from distant regions. The rest of the Superior Legends of the Xaos Kingdom were retreating as well, each carrying spatial treasures filled with Vikings still loyal to Odinvaldr.

Within moments, Valhalla was stripped of its innocent population.

Only the corrupted remained.

As soon as Vlad confirmed that the civilians were safe, his energy detonated outward. Killing intent surged from him in a suffocating wave. His eyes blazed with cold determination as he raised his blade and drove it forward—burying it directly into space itself.

Reality shuddered.

Across the capital, countless portals tore open simultaneously before the corrupted Vikings. From each portal, a blade of condensed spatial law emerged, precise and merciless. One after another, they pierced through skulls, severing minds and annihilating souls in an instant.

There was no bloodshed frenzy. No chaos.

Only execution.

The Celestial Eyes bled as their light dimmed, drained by the overwhelming consumption of bloodline power. The attack demanded an enormous price—but Vlad smiled nonetheless.

It was worth it.

Antorus alone survived.

The Emperor of Valhalla had barely managed to evade the spatial blade aimed at him, twisting away at the last possible moment. Vlad had expected nothing less.

He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Antorus across the ruined capital.

"There is no one left for you to hide behind," Vlad declared, his voice carrying absolute finality. "No civilians. No faith to exploit. No sacrifices to shield you."

He raised his blade once more.

"Now, prepare yourself. The day of your execution has arrived."

Wrathful power erupted from Vlad as he flashed forward, space collapsing beneath his step. A wide, merciless smile spread across his face as he charged toward the Emperor of Valhalla—ready to end him.