Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 992: The end of Kukulkan

Vlad saw the alarm sigils echoing across the vast fortress with immense power, casting violent streaks of light through the night. Beneath him, he could feel the tremor of tens of thousands of Voroe soldiers surging through the streets, disciplined, relentless, ready to fight and die for their cause.

And yet, he smiled.

A heartbeat later, his figure vanished, reappearing high above the stronghold. From that vantage, the night itself seemed to split apart. Explosions thundered across the horizon, each one a blinding flare that devoured towers and walls alike. The ground convulsed as energy cores ruptured in a chain reaction, a storm of fire and shrieking metal that consumed the fortress’s defensive grid in a single sweeping instant.

He had not been the only infiltrator.

All across the stronghold, shadows moved, the Legendary Demon Soul Masters, doing their part. They had slipped inside like phantoms, cutting through barriers and guardians with surgical precision. Their task was destruction, and they had accomplished it flawlessly.

Now came the second phase of the strike.

The Vorometallicae were still staggering beneath the shock of losing their power network when the night sky itself began to change. At first, the defenders thought it a trick of light, a faint shimmer, then dozens of glowing trails. But within moments, the firmament blazed as if a meteor shower had descended upon the world.

Unfortunately for them, these meteors did not fade.

Thousands of flaming spheres began to descend, streaking through the clouds with screams like tortured steel. Their heat seared the air; their descent carried the promise of extinction.

Kukulkan lifted his gaze, and for the first time in centuries, his composure cracked. His eyes widened, his metallic pupils reflecting the falling inferno. He did not know what those things were, but he did know that he needed to stop them, or something horrible was going to happen.

Unfortunately, it was not so simple.

As he felt the calm, focused gaze of the young man standing across from him, a cold realization froze his blood. If he took his eyes from this enemy, even for a second, he would die.

"Form up!" he roared, his voice reaching toward the strongest of the Voroe Legends inside the stronghold.. "Intercept the descent!"

No answer came.

The silence that followed was unnatural. Kukulkan’s rage curdled into dread as his sharp senses reached outward — and found nothing. The commanders he had trusted, the elites who stood only a step below him, were gone.

Vlad’s expression did not change as he took a single step forward, shadows curling around his boots. "Mine," he said softly, "was not the only assassination attempt."

Kukulkan’s breath hitched.

Vlad’s smile widened, sharp as a blade drawn from frost. "By the looks of it," he continued, "yours was the only one that failed."

The words struck like a hammer to the heart. Kukulkan felt his core shudder, the first crack in his iron resolve. And in that instant of hesitation, the heavens fell.

The flaming spheres crashed into the stronghold, tearing the landscape apart. Each impact was a miniature apocalypse, walls melted, streets burst open like wounds, and entire battalions vanished in fire. The fortress became a storm of screams and molten debris.

Every soldier beneath the Peak Sage Realm was annihilated in an instant. Those who remained stood amidst chaos, their minds unable to comprehend what had happened. Only ten minutes before, they had been the mightiest force in the Dark Lands. Now, ninety percent of their army was gone, obliterated by an enemy who had planned every strike, every death, with divine precision.

But it was not over.

A hundred new auras ignited across the burning city, each one vast, demonic, brimming with murderous intent. The surviving Voroe warriors raised their weapons, only to falter as shadows poured from the flames.

The Legendary Demon Soul Masters attacked.

Their power filled the air like an ocean of blood.

And from the fissures where the meteors had struck, vast forms began to crawl forth, monsters of volcanic stone and flesh, eyeless creatures with claws large enough to split fortresses. Their bodies pulsed with magma veins; their roars were not sounds but vibrations, shaking the souls of all who heard them. They moved with unnatural coordination, ripping apart everything in their path.

For the first time in his existence, Kukulkan felt small.

He stared at the ruin of his domain, the charred remains of his soldiers, the endless tide of monsters tearing through what had once been his kingdom. His mind refused to process it. Everything he had built, every secret plan, every sacrifice, was undone in moments.

Then, something inside him broke. Despair twisted into hatred.

He turned his glare upon Vlad, who stood among the drifting ashes, utterly calm. "Who are you!?" Kukulkan roared. His power surged outward, a metallic storm that turned the very air corrosive. His claws shone with dark plasma, eating through the sky like rot.

Vlad didn’t flinch.

He had faced the Lords of Hell and Abyss. He had walked through the tombs of dead Primordial Gods and punched archangels with his bare hands. Compared to those horrors, a half-Lord Voroe was nothing.

He tightened his grip on his blade and let his power flow.

The space around him warped as if reality itself bowed to his will. Then, without a single word, he vanished.

A roar split the sky.

Kukulkan met him midair, claw against blade, wrath against corruption. Their clash unleashed a cataclysmic wave that shredded the clouds and split the ground below. Sparks of energy spiraled around them, burning holes in the fabric of space.

Kukulkan had never been defeated in a contest of strength by anyone short of a Lord. But this time, it was different. Within two seconds of the first strike, he was pushed back, his claws trembling under the sheer force of the blow.

Vlad pressed forward, relentless.

He moved faster than lightning, teleporting from one direction to another, each strike perfectly timed. Kukulkan swung and missed, his massive arms leaving trails of molten plasma, while the young man’s sword carved through both flesh and armor. With every wound inflicted, Kukulkan’s rage dimmed, replaced by a creeping, unfamiliar sensation, fear.

He could see, in flashes between blows, his army being massacred. The Legendary Voroe, who had survived the bombardment, were being torn apart by the demonic soldiers and eyeless monsters. The tide was irreversible.

And he was alone.

Panic flared. Wounded and desperate, Kukulkan gathered his remaining strength. A surge of dark energy exploded from his core, forcing Vlad backward just long enough to turn and flee. Enormous wings emerging from his back, scattering molten feathers as he shot toward the horizon.

Vlad stopped, lowering his sword slightly. His expression darkened.

He exhaled slowly, drawing on the power within his soul, the Seal of Sin. Space rippled. The very air trembled beneath his command. When he raised his sword again, the weapon glowed with a light that seemed to consume color, bending reality around it.

"You don’t get to run," he murmured.

He drove the blade downward.

The weapon pierced through more than air; it sank into the fabric of existence itself.

Kukulkan had not even cleared the outer rim of the mountain range when the air around him began to twist. His eyes widened in disbelief as space itself rippled, bending like a liquid mirror.

Then came the swords. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Dozens of them, each an exact replica of the weapon wielded by the young human who had defied him, manifested from the rifts. They shimmered with divine wrath, every blade humming with destructive intent as they locked onto him from every direction.

"Impossible—!"

The Vorometallicae warlord barely had time to raise his claws before the blades struck.

They pierced through his body from all sides, driving into metal, bone, and flesh with merciless precision. His molten armor shattered like glass; sparks and black ichor exploded from the wounds. The pain was beyond anything he had ever felt, yet even that agony was nothing compared to what came next.

Each sword released a surge of psychic energy, a tidal wave that invaded his mind and soul. His consciousness cracked under the pressure; memories scattered like fragments of broken crystal. The burning light in his eyes dimmed, flickered, and finally went out.

Vlad appeared before the immobilized warlord, silent as the void. Without a word, he placed his hand upon Kukulkan’s head. Shadows coiled around his fingers, and with a pull both gentle and final, he tore out the soul of the dying half-Lord.

A moment later, the True Depravita of Wrath consumed it, absorbing every scrap of knowledge, every secret of the Vorometallicae command that it contained.

When nothing useful remained, Vlad swung his sword once, severing the creature’s head. He stored it within his space ring, then unleashed a swarm of black insects that devoured the corpse until not a single trace was left.

As silence returned, Vlad turned toward the mountain range. Below him, the Dark Hand fortress burned in eerie stillness. Every Vorometallicae within its walls was dead.