Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 977: A virus and a drug

Though it had no physical form, no visible body, and no trace of a soul’s aura, the nature of the entity above the stronghold was unmistakable. Its essence was the same as the Master of the Dark Dimension and the Dream of Madness—two of the most powerful entities of the Alien Powers.

Even so, there was a faint sliver of hope buried within that revelation.

The stronger these entities were, the harder it became for them to pierce the veil of reality and enter the physical universe. And while the colossal shadow that loomed over Valhalla’s capital was indeed awe-inspiring, Vlad quickly realized it was not truly sentient.

It was a manifestation, an echo of power projected from beyond creation—most likely a result of some ritual taking place deep within the stone stronghold at the city’s heart.

However, that knowledge brought little comfort.

Vlad’s expression hardened as he clenched his fists. Even if this projection lacked consciousness, its mere presence was enough to warp an entire civilization. The danger ahead was greater than anything he had anticipated—but there was no turning back now.

He understood what this meant: this entity, and others like it, would one day come for the Xaos Kingdom, seeking revenge. If he wanted any chance to defend his people, he needed to understand the enemy—its structure, its rituals, its corruption.

Taking a deep breath, Vlad allowed his body to dissolve into electricity. His form flickered, and he became a living arc of lightning, invisible to sight and sound.

He surged across the cobblestones, weaving between the towering black buildings that made up the capital. His A.I. Chip synchronized with his senses, constantly scanning and analyzing everything around him.

And what he found twisted his stomach.

The people of Valhalla who live in the capital were not reduced to mindless husks as he had first expected. They walked, laughed, sang, and drank—but everything they did was wrong.

Their laughter was cruel, born of humiliation and domination. They mocked the weak, beat the helpless, and bowed in trembling fear whenever a stronger warrior passed by. Their feasts were orgies of gluttony and filth, their games steeped in sadism and blood.

They were Vikings, but their honor had been gutted, their courage poisoned.

Worse still, as Vlad watched, their Totems—the sacred runes engraved into their flesh—glowed brighter with every act of depravity. The more they strayed from Odinvaldr’s teachings, the stronger their corrupted blessings became.

Their divinity had been inverted.

And when their Totems flared, a wave of euphoria rippled through them. Their faces twisted in pure ecstasy, their eyes rolling back as if they had tasted paradise itself. The feeling lasted only moments, and then the bliss was gone—leaving behind desperate emptiness.

He could see it clearly: the way their bodies shook, their hands trembling as they sought another fix. They needed to feel that high again. To be stronger. To be more corrupted.

"It spreads like a virus," Vlad muttered under his breath. "And it hooks its victims like a drug. What a horrifying power..."

His expression darkened. If this corruption could extend beyond the Vikings—if it ever spread to other races—the entire universe would drown in madness.

Moving forward, Vlad approached the stone fortress at the city’s core. The closer he came, the more the air thickened with energy, pressing against his body like liquid lead. When he reached the outer perimeter, he halted and allowed his lightning form to fade, returning to flesh.

Before him rose an edifice of impossible design—its walls were carved from black stone infused with metallic veins, pulsing faintly with crimson light. Around it, layers upon layers of runic seals, traps, and energy barriers shimmered in faint luminescence.

Even at a glance, Vlad could tell these defenses were masterwork-level enchantments—intricate enough to alert anyone inside the moment they were disturbed. He could unravel them, but the process would take days, maybe weeks. Time he did not have.

A faint smile curved his lips.

"Luckily," he murmured, "I don’t need to unravel them... I can simply jump them."

The Quantum Eye embedded in the center of his forehead opened, glowing with a swirling vortex of silver light. Energy rippled outward, distorting the space around him.

He focused on a point just beyond the fortress’s energy barrier.

Reality bent.

The Quantum Eye devoured his form, pulling him through a fold in space—and in the next heartbeat, he was standing right outside the fortress, materializing in silence like a phantom emerging from mist.

Vlad’s grin widened slightly. The Quantum Eye was a truly powerful Gift. With it, he could fold space, opening micro-wormholes that connected any two visible points. Barriers and shields meant nothing to it.

The only limitation was solid matter—but that was where the Quantum Expanse came into play.

Taking another deep breath, he activated it. His body shimmered, becoming intangible, and he walked through the dense stone walls as if they were made of fog. Every step drained him; maintaining both the Quantum Eye and Expanse together demanded immense energy.

His Seal of Sin and Lord Tier Runic Set helped stabilize his core, rapidly replenishing his energy reserves. Even so, exhaustion gnawed at the edges of his mind. Luckily, he was able to stand inside the stronghold in a matter of seconds.

He pressed on, moving deeper into the fortress, taking the form of a flickering thread of lightning as thin as a strand of hair.

After several minutes of silent traversal, he found what he was looking for.

The corridor ahead opened into a wide hall lined with vertical containment pods. Strange symbols—half mechanical, half organic—glowed faintly on their surfaces. Within each pod, twisted Viking forms hung suspended, their Totems pulsing like infected hearts.

But what drew his attention most was the figure walking among them.

It was massive—nearly three meters tall—and its body was a fusion of flesh and machinery. Its black, muscular frame was wrapped in jagged silver armor, pulsating with dark energy. Tubes of molten light ran across its limbs, feeding into a core embedded in its chest. Its eyes glowed a deep, burning crimson.

Every step it took left a faint tremor in the floor.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed. The creature’s design was unmistakable.

"Vorometallicae..."