Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 979: Saving people

The fifth figure was an amalgamation of darkness—a shifting void that defied shape or reason. It possessed no body, no aura of energy, no heartbeat or breath. And yet its presence filled the chamber like an ocean of gravity.

The air itself seemed to bend beneath its will.

Though it had no visible form, it projected a soul force so immense that it pressed the other four beings to their knees. Antorus, Barbatos, the Fleshcrafter, and the molten Vorometallic Lord—all of them bowed in silent submission before the invisible pressure that emanated from the void.

There was no doubt. This being was the true leader—the hand of the Alien Power that had reached into Valhalla.

The radiation of its aura confirmed what Vlad had already feared. It belonged to the same higher order as the Master and the Dream of Madness, two of the most dreadful powers ever to scar reality.

Vlad’s eyes sharpened as he focused on the meeting. If he could hear their plans, perhaps he could understand the nature of this new threat. But fortune did not favor him.

Though his A.I. Chip could translate sound waves and vibrations into coherent speech within his mind, the figures before him did not utter a single word. Their mouths never moved.

"Telepathic communication," Vlad thought grimly.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. The level of secrecy was unnecessary—after all, they stood in the very heart of their dominion, shielded by countless layers of protection. Yet it seemed that even the Alien Powers had grown paranoid after their recent failures.

He smirked faintly. "Not paranoia... if someone truly is watching you."

Still, his situation was precarious.

A part of him—raw and reckless—longed to storm the throne room and strike them down. His blood burned at the sight of these creatures. If he could kill them all now, everything that followed might be avoided.

But the logical part of his mind knew better.

Even facing Barbatos alone had pushed him to the brink, and that had been in the void near Terra, where he could draw on the Origin Power of the world. Here, in the alien womb of Valhalla’s corruption, he would be destroyed before he even reached the steps of the throne.

"Not yet," he whispered to himself.

Now that he had finally seen the faces of his enemies—the ones who had set their fangs against the Xaos Kingdom—he began to retreat, transforming once more into a faint, invisible stream of lightning.

But Vlad did not leave the fortress empty-handed.

His eyes glowed with purpose as he glided silently back through the corridors, returning to the chamber filled with containment pods. The same Vorometallic Lord who had been inspecting them was still there, running diagnostic scans on the abominations inside.

Vlad waited. Patient. Still.

After several tense minutes, the creature turned and lumbered away, vanishing through the northern hall.

The chamber was now empty—except for the prisoners.

Dozens of surveillance drones floated near the ceiling, their crimson lenses sweeping in rhythmic arcs, but the A.I. Chip easily overrode them. With a silent digital pulse, Vlad erased his presence from their systems.

He re-formed into his humanoid shape and moved to the first pod. Every motion was calculated; every breath timed between the shifting hums of the security field. His fingers traced the runes engraved along the glass.

Then he began to work.

Vlad moved quickly—incredibly quickly. His hands blurred as he re-wrote tiny sections of the runic matrices that powered the pods. A single rune adjusted here, a glyph tilted there; small, surgical corrections that took less than three seconds per capsule.

It took more than two hours of relentless precision, and when he finished, he did not release them.

As much as he pitied these people—their twisted flesh, their violated spirits—he lacked the strength to save them. If he broke the seals now, the alarms would alert every Vorometallic Lord in the fortress.

"This is the best I can offer you," he murmured, placing a hand against one of the pods. "When the time comes, may these runes give you peace."

Vlad turned away before the weight in his chest could grow heavier.

He departed the stronghold as silently as he had entered it. Through the tunnels, through the shadows, through the endless labyrinth of corruption and steel. He maintained his cloaking field until he had crossed the outer perimeter and left the capital far behind.

Only when the looming shadow over the fortress had faded from sight did he finally let the fusion dissolve, separating himself from the others. The energy storm that had bound them as one soul unraveled, leaving him standing alone in the bleak landscape beyond the city.

The moment it ended, exhaustion slammed into him like a tidal wave.

He staggered, gasping. Though he had not fought, keeping his Ultimate Form active for so long had pushed his body and spirit to their limits. The strain was immense—his soul ached, his veins burned.

It took several minutes before he recovered enough to stand straight again.

When he turned to the others—Freya, Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir—the same exhaustion mirrored in their eyes. But there was something else too: solemn understanding.

They had seen what awaited them. They had glimpsed the true scale of the enemy.

"We can’t change what’s already happened," Vlad said, his voice steady but low. "But we can make things harder for them moving forward."

The others nodded, eyes blazing faintly as determination replaced despair.

"They’re capturing people all across Valhalla," he continued. "Maybe it’s to corrupt their Totems, maybe it’s to turn them into those biomechanical monsters—but I doubt that’s their only goal. There’s something deeper at work. Something we haven’t seen yet."

He clenched his fist, sparks dancing across his gauntlet.

"We don’t need to understand it to destroy it."

Freya’s lips curved into a faint smile, cold and resolute. The same expression spread across the faces of Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir.

Before, rescuing the innocent Vikings had been a side mission—an act of conscience that distracted from their greater purpose. Now it had become their purpose.

Every person they saved weakened the enemy’s design. Every soul spared denied the Alien Power another vessel.

"Then we save," Vlad said.