Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1062: First battle in Hell

One by one, they revealed themselves.

The first was a massive obsidian dragon, his scales darker than the void itself. When it unfurled its wings, they blotted out the sun, casting the land below into an unnatural eclipse.

Beside it stood an imposing man with translucent wings that shimmered like crystal glass, crowned by a pair of majestic deer horns. His presence carried an ancient authority, as if the laws of nature themselves bent slightly around him.

The third figure was smaller, yet thickly built, his compact frame brimming with restrained power. Storm energy crackled beneath his skin, flashes of lightning escaping with every breath. Though he did not appear grand, the pressure he exuded rivaled that of a natural disaster waiting to be unleashed.

There was also a woman whose very posture radiated ferocity. Her gaze was sharp enough to cut steel, her aura violent and unyielding. It was clear that her savagery surpassed that of any man present, a living embodiment of relentless warfare and unbreakable will.

Another man stood quietly apart, golden eyes glowing faintly beneath white hair that flowed like molten silver. From his back extended wings formed entirely of condensed plasma, burning with controlled brilliance.

And at the head of them all stood the strongest.

A man bathed in white flame.

The fire did not merely burn—it erased. Reality itself seemed to tremble around him, as if existence hesitated to acknowledge his presence.

As soon as those six appeared, the pressure descending upon the fortress multiplied exponentially, crushing stone, warping metal, and forcing Devils to prostrate themselves instinctively. Kalio’s breath caught in his throat as his senses screamed warnings he could not ignore.

"Impossible..." he whispered. "Six of them—and every single one is stronger than me."

The sheer shock nearly caused him to collapse, but Kalio forced his bloated body to move, his instincts screaming that hesitation meant death.

"I need to run," he thought desperately. "I can’t win alone. I need to warn the others, unite the Lords, call for reinforcements—"

He never finished the thought.

His instincts erupted in pure terror.

Kalio twisted his massive body to the side at the last possible instant. A fraction of a second later, a dark sword pierced through his chest, narrowly missing his heart. The force of the impact sent shockwaves tearing through his flesh, blood erupting from the wound.

He roared in pain and disbelief.

Looking down, Kalio saw a young man standing impossibly close to him. The figure held the hilt of the sword embedded in his chest with calm precision, as if he had merely completed a routine action.

"You damn ant—die!"

The Devil Lord roared in blind fury, raising his massive arm high, intent on crushing the small figure before him into nothing more than paste. Yet just as the attack was about to descend, grey light exploded from the sword, enveloping his entire body.

In an instant, everything stopped.

His flesh, his energy, even his soul were forced into absolute stasis. Particles froze mid-motion, thoughts halted, and time itself seemed unwilling to move within that pallid glow.

Vlad calmly withdrew the Quietus Sword from the Devil Lord’s chest, a wide smile spreading across his face.

It had been decided that Overlord would operate separately from him. By splitting their efforts, they could cover more ground while keeping the existence of the True Depravita’s Paragon power hidden. Vlad had no objections to that plan.

Fused with Jormungandr, Fafnir, and Ouroboros, his power had reached the absolute limit of the Lord Tier—more than enough to deal with the Devil Lords of the First Layer. The only real drawback had been the Quietus Sword itself, an Archangel’s weapon that he believed he could no longer wield.

Fortunately, the deep connection between his soul and Overlord’s had produced an unexpected result.

The sword still recognized him as an Archangel.

And that recognition made all the difference.

Without wasting a second, Vlad stored the sealed body of the Devil Lord away, removing him from the battlefield entirely. Then, with a single decisive motion, he drove the Quietus Sword into the heart of the fortress.

Grey energy surged outward.

Defensive formations froze. Runes dulled. Enchantments collapsed under the weight of absolute nullification. The once-impenetrable fortress turned lifeless and colorless, its systems locked in total paralysis.

Inside, the Devils were still reeling from the shock of witnessing an entire army descend from a wound in space itself when the world around them suddenly turned grey.

Confusion turned to panic.

But while the Devils hesitated, the Sages and Legends of the Six Sun Alliance did not.

They took the frozen fortress as their signal.

With war cries and unleashed power, they surged forward, pouring into the structure like a tidal wave. Blades fell, spells ignited, and the sounds of battle erupted as Devils were slaughtered in droves, unable to coordinate or resist effectively.

The White Death, Overlord, and the other sovereigns remained still, watching from afar.

They could have annihilated the fortress in moments—but they chose not to.

The defenses were gone. The leader was dead. The enemy was disorganized and terrified.

This was the perfect opportunity.

Their armies needed to adapt—to learn how to fight, kill, and survive in Hell itself.

...

The carnage grew more and more intense as every single Sage and Legend of the Six Sun Alliance poured into the fortress. Within the first few seconds alone, thousands upon thousands of Devils died, their bodies shattered, torn apart by spells, blades, and overwhelming force.

Yet Devils were not mindless beasts.

Unlike Demons—whose madness drove them into reckless, suicidal assaults—Devils were scheming and methodical. Fear and confusion ruled them only briefly. Once the initial shock faded, their natural cunning asserted itself. Orders were shouted, formations assembled, and layered strategies rapidly formed even amid the chaos of slaughter.

Before long, a massive battalion of high-ranking Devils gathered near the heart of the fortress. Moving with ruthless precision, they formed a complex battle formation, merging their energies into a single, devastating construct. Power surged, spiraling inward until it condensed into a massive beam of infernal energy, capable of erasing thousands of Sages in an instant.

The attack was moments from being unleashed.

Then the ground beneath them exploded.

A towering golden giant burst forth from the earth directly below the assembled Devils, shattering their formation in a violent eruption of debris and broken bodies. The sudden disruption caused the gathered energy to destabilize, collapsing inward and annihilating dozens of Devils on the spot.

The giant swung his massive halberd. Dark flames erupted from the blade, consuming everything in its arc. Screams echoed as Devils were engulfed, their bodies reduced to ash before they could even react.

This golden giant was none other than Anglius, Grand Marshal of the Xaos Kingdom.

Having recently risen to the rank of Superior Legend, his presence on the battlefield was nothing short of overwhelming.

"Behind me. Now!"

His voice thundered across the battlefield, so powerful that it made ears bleed and hearts tremble. Instantly, thousands of Sages and hundreds of Legends responded. They rallied behind Anglius, his radiant form becoming their spearhead as they advanced forward in perfect coordination.

Under his command, formations were shattered one after another. Infernal defenses collapsed, and organized resistance crumbled beneath the relentless advance of the Alliance’s forces.

High above, the sovereigns observed the battle in silence.

They nodded in approval.

The discipline, adaptability, and cohesion displayed by the Grand Marshal of the Xaos Kingdom were exactly what they had hoped to see. And Anglius was not alone. Across the fortress, other powerful and skilled warriors began to distinguish themselves, carving paths through enemy ranks and proving their worth in Hell’s unforgiving battlefield.

The sounds of war—screams, explosions, clashing metal, and tearing flesh—echoed for several hours.

Then, finally, silence returned.

The only remaining sounds were the heavy breathing of exhausted soldiers and the steady flow of blood pouring down the mountain slopes from the ruined fortress. When the battlefield was surveyed, it became clear that casualties among the Six Sun Alliance were astonishingly low.

Less than one percent of the invading force had fallen.

In contrast, over a million Devils had been slaughtered.

No matter how it was measured, the first battle was an undeniable and resounding success.

With the fighting over, soldiers allowed themselves a moment of relief. The wounded were treated, and fallen comrades honored. When it became clear that no non-Devil corpses remained, Overlord raised his hand.

At his command, thousands upon thousands of small larvae were released into the fortress.

They rained down like a living tide, completely ignoring the warriors of the Six Sun Alliance. The moment they touched Devil blood or flesh, however, they reacted with overwhelming ferocity. They devoured everything in reach, growing larger and more robust with every bite.

The soldiers watched as their spoils of war vanished into the maws of these creatures, but they did not protest. They understood their purpose.

While the larvae consumed the remains, the warriors sat down and began to cultivate.

Infernal energy flooded their bodies and Soul Dimensions. Yet instead of causing pain or corruption, it felt natural—refreshing, like drinking pure water. It was clear proof that their soul transformations had succeeded.