Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 981: Time to return home

The next second, Gram blazed with incandescent fury. The sword’s core flared white-hot, and a concentrated burst of divine fire erupted outward, engulfing Bako completely.

"—Aaaaaahhh!"

The Demon Lord’s scream tore through the molten air as the inferno devoured him. Flames clung to his armor and skin like living parasites, refusing to fade. For an instant, his enormous frame staggered, but willpower like iron snapped his body back under control. His crimson eyes burned through the inferno.

With a roar, he channeled invisible force into his golden sword and swung it in a blinding arc toward the winged figure descending upon him. The impact shook the world. The strike was blocked, but Bako’s lips twisted into a cruel grin as he pressed harder, his raw power sending the winged adversary tumbling through the air.

Bako had mastered the Law of Destruction — a truth so absolute that it could unravel the structure of existence itself. His energy bypassed shields and armor alike; as long as even a trace of his essence touched an enemy, it would invade their core and shred them from within.

But as he watched, his smile began to fade.

The winged warrior steadied himself in the air, and bursts of destruction echoed inside him, but it barely made him tremble. A single thin stream of blood ran down his chin — and that was all.

"Impossible," Bako snarled.

Overlord said nothing. His eyes were cold, empty of mercy or triumph. The light in his irises shimmered faintly as he tightened his grip around his sword — not Gram, but Durendal, the unbreakable blade of endurance.

At the final moment before Bako’s attack, he had switched weapons, channeling the relic’s power to fortify his body. Durendal’s divine resilience had absorbed most of the destructive force, leaving him merely wounded instead of obliterated.

Bako’s fury boiled into disbelief. Before he could launch another strike, Overlord released Durendal, letting it dissolve into radiant motes of light. In its place, a spear materialized in his hand, gleaming with ancient energy. He pivoted his body in a fluid motion, his wings cutting the air as he hurled the weapon with all his might.

"Gungnir!"

The name itself carried power. The spear tore through space, leaving trails of lightning and golden wind in its wake. In less than a heartbeat, it was upon Bako, its tip aimed straight for his heart.

Instinct took over. The Demon Lord’s muscles acted before thought could form. He raised his sword, golden flames flaring, and met the blow head-on.

The two weapons collided.

A shockwave of raw energy exploded from the impact point, rippling through the air like thunder made flesh. Sparks of divine and demonic essence fused and tore apart in the same instant. Arcs of lightning danced across the battlefield as if the sky itself screamed.

"ARGHHH!"

Bako roared, veins bulging beneath his armor as he struggled against the unstoppable momentum of the sacred spear. His arms trembled, his claws dug into the hilt of his sword — and still, Gungnir pushed forward, its will unrelenting.

Finally, with a desperate surge of strength, Bako twisted his body and managed to deflect the spear’s trajectory just enough to save his heart, but not his chest.

The spear carved a void through his chest, piercing his sternum and ripping a hole clean through his armor. The pain was blinding — his body momentarily paralyzed as his vision went white. That single instant of vulnerability was all it took.

A volley of divine weapons rained down upon him from above, striking point-blank. Each blow struck with the force of a god’s judgment.

Bako was hurled from the sky like a falling star, his descent tearing through the molten clouds and shattering entire mountain ranges below. The Layer of Abyss quaked with the impact.

His mind dimmed, his breath shallow — but survival instinct flared one last time. He rolled aside just as a column of light crashed down, burying Overlord’s blade deep into the crater where his body had lain seconds earlier.

Bako gritted his teeth, black blood spilling from his lips. He rose, staggering, and prepared to counterattack — but then Overlord’s voice, calm and cold as death, cut through the firestorm.

"Burn."

The buried sword erupted.

Flames surged outward in a titanic explosion, swallowing the landscape in an ocean of roaring light. The ground split apart. The sky turned white. For kilometers in every direction, the battlefield became a dome of flame.

The demons of Bako’s legions and the soldiers of Xaos froze where they stood, staring at the inferno in horrified awe. The radiance was so blinding that even the seasoned veterans of the demon army shielded their eyes.

Yet awe quickly gave way to discipline.

The Xaos warriors had fought through countless apocalyptic battles; they had learned to survive amid gods’ duels. Without hesitation, they seized upon the demons’ shock and disarray, cutting them down with surgical precision. In moments, their advantage grew even stronger. The demon army faltered and completely broke under the advance of relentless steel.

At last, two figures emerged from the collapsing inferno.

Overlord and Bako stood several paces apart, both scorched and bloodied. But the difference between them was unmistakable.

Overlord stood tall, his breathing steady, his wings still radiant. Bako, by contrast, trembled beneath the weight of his wounds. The hole in his chest still burned; his golden sword flickered weakly, its energy fading.

The Demon Lord’s face twisted with hatred. He had fought countless wars, slain gods and devils alike — but never had he felt so utterly dominated. This opponent was not overwhelmingly stronger; it was his awareness, his precision, his mastery of the battlefield that made him invincible. Bako realized, with bitter clarity, that he could not seize back the momentum.

For the first time in centuries, the Lord of the 87th Layer felt fear.

He looked around — at the shattered remains of his army, at the flames consuming the domain he had ruled for millennia. His jaw clenched. Then, with one last glare at the winged warrior, he turned away.

Golden wings of demonic fire replaced his shadow wings, and with a single powerful beat, Bako fled, disappearing into the storm of ash and smoke.

Overlord did not pursue.

He simply lowered his sword and exhaled slowly. Demon Lords were nearly immortal within their own realms, their power amplified by the Abyss’s Origin Power itself. A single reckless move could have turned the battle. His goal had not been to kill — but to temper his soldiers, to test their resolve and refine their strength.

When Bako vanished, the fighting below ended swiftly. The remaining demons were slaughtered or captured, their black banners torn and cast into the fire. The Xaos Kingdom stood victorious once more.

Overlord hovered above the ruins, his gaze sweeping over his army. Two years in the Abyss had transformed them. Beneath him stood warriors forged by endless warfare, each bearing the soul of a conquered demon within their hearts.

Overlord’s voice carried across the desolate plain.

"It’s time to return home."