Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1097: Two Paragons of Hell

The swarm of Legendary Devils had no real chance of killing a Lord at Brightkin’s level. Their only hope was to tire him, or at least distract him long enough for Varkin’s spear to land a decisive blow.

Unfortunately for them, the moment they closed in and began to surround the Faerathia Emperor, his entire body ignited with radiant light. Countless beams burst outward from him in every direction, slicing through the Legendary Devils as if they were made of paper. Bodies were severed, burned, and dissolved in an instant, their screams drowned beneath the roar of holy power.

Brightkin could not help but smile as he observed the carnage around him. Normally, he was known as a peaceful and composed ruler, a king who preferred diplomacy over violence. But when it came to fiends, every kill stirred something deeper within him—a fierce sense of purpose, and even a trace of exhilaration.

"The Domain Technique the Overlord granted me is truly remarkable, he thought. To shape the Law of Light into a battlefield like this, and to sustain it with barely any effort..."

As that realization crossed his mind, Brightkin tightened his grip on his sword and struck the fortress barrier once more. The radiant blade crashed against the force field, and this time the cracks spread rapidly across its surface. His smile widened as he felt the structure beginning to collapse.

Far from that battlefield, another massive clash shook the ocean.

Orkin had transformed into a colossal stone giant, his towering form rising above the waves as he hammered relentlessly at the barrier surrounding a massive underwater citadel. Each blow of his weapon unleashed violent arcs of lightning that surged through the water, spreading destruction in every direction.

The Devil Lord who ruled that stronghold was a grotesque amphibious matron. Her swollen body was covered in pale, translucent skin, beneath which dark fluids pulsed sluggishly. Inflated throat sacs expanded and contracted constantly, while clusters of barnacle-like eggs grew across her back and arms.

Her name was Mirelith, and her milky, unblinking eyes trembled with fear as she faced the advancing stone giant.

She unleashed torrents of corrupted water, thick with disease and decay, hoping to erode and poison Orkin’s massive form. But the attacks achieved nothing. The Dvergar King’s stone flesh remained untouched.

Worse still, no matter how many Legendary Devils she sent forward, none could reach him. A domain of thunder surrounded Orkin like a living storm. Any fiend that approached too closely felt its internal organs rupture under crushing pressure, their bodies exploding before they could land a single blow.

Like Brightkin, Orkin wore a broad, radiant smile.

For him, this was a battle of pure joy.

On top of a vast reef stood a great city, its towers glowing with infernal energy as they fired continuous beams toward a single radiant figure.

Ankil advanced through the barrage without slowing.

Her shield intercepted the attacks, her body glowing red as her heartbeat accelerated. Every step she took shook the reef beneath her feet. Her focus never wavered. Her prey was directly ahead.

With a single swing of her sword, she carved a massive wound across the chest of a Devil Lord.

Nymora, the Siren of the Storm Veil, took the form of a tall and elegant woman with long, flowing hair made of rain and mist. From a distance, her face was beautiful. Up close, however, her mouth stretched far too wide, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.

Once feared as a destroyer of worlds, she was now fleeing for her life.

She summoned towering storm clouds and unleashed waves of spiritual attacks through haunting chants, but none of them could slow the Amazon Queen. Any Legendary Devil that approached Ankil found its blood boiling violently, burning from within before it could strike.

With a sharp twist of her body, Ankil gathered her strength and drove her blade deep into Nymora’s back, blasting the Devil Lord into the reef below. Without hesitation, she leapt forward to continue the assault.

Elsewhere, Merlin stood amidst a storm of dark fire, his expression bright and satisfied.

Before him loomed Thalasor, a colossal Devil Lord resembling a monstrous kraken. One of the largest and most powerful rulers of the Fourth Layer, Thalasor relied on overwhelming physical strength and crushing force.

Yet in their clash, it was the Obsidian Dragon King who held the advantage.

Each time Thalasor struck, Merlin countered with torrents of black flames that burned through flesh and spirit alike. The massive fiend was driven backward again and again until Merlin lunged forward, sinking his fangs into the creature’s thick neck.

Dark fire poured directly into Thalasor’s bloodstream.

The Devil Lord thrashed violently as the flames spread through his body, consuming him from within.

As for the Legendary Devils that dared approach, the infernal flames surrounding Merlin’s body incinerated them instantly, leaving nothing but drifting ash.

All of these battles were impressive and critically important. If the alliance hoped to take control of the Fourth Layer, every Devil Lord had to be defeated.

Yet the most important confrontation had not yet begun.

At the very heart of the Fourth Layer stood the White Death.

The surrounding ocean recoiled from his presence, the dark waters forced back by his aura, leaving a vast vacuum around his body. He remained perfectly still, eyes closed, gathering the full might of his soul and perception.

He was not searching within the Fourth Layer.

His senses were reaching beyond it.

While the Devil Lords of the realm were being slaughtered one by one, something far more dangerous was approaching.

And then he felt it.

The White Death slowly opened his eyes. A solemn expression settled over his face as the presence became clear.

"Beelzebub."

The aura of the Devil Paragon was unmistakable. After all, that monster had once pushed him to his absolute limit.

But what truly caused the White Death’s heart to grow cold was what he sensed next.

Beelzebub was not coming alone.

Another Paragon of Hell was rising beside him.