Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 275: A new enemy

Chapter 275: A new enemy

Book 4 - The Dark Hunger That Fell from the Sky

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The next few days carried massive upheaval across the Azarin Empire. The three legions of the Xaos Kingdom swiftly brought the entire capital and its people under complete control, following Overlord’s meticulously crafted orders. The disciplined forces of the Xaos Kingdom ensured that no signs of chaos or mayhem—common in the aftermath of war—were allowed to take root.

Once the order was secured in the capital, the forces of the Xaos Kingdom began to extend their influence across Radiance City. One of their first tasks was to awaken the population from the towns, who had been placed in a state of hibernation during the conflict. The soldiers moved methodically, reviving the citizens and ensuring they were brought up to speed with the new reality of their world.

With the immediate threat of disorder quelled, the real challenge began: assessment and assimilation. The Azarin Empire had been a theocracy, where faith in Goddess Lucia was the bedrock of society. Defeating the goddess in battle was one thing, but erasing the deep-seated faith that had brainwashed the population into viewing all other humans as lesser beings was an entirely different challenge. Overlord, however, had anticipated this.

Leveraging the war’s shock and the people’s vulnerability in its aftermath, Overlord set in motion a carefully planned assimilation process. The goal was not just to erase the old faith but to replace it with a new one. And who better to be elevated to divine status than the very figure who had defeated Goddess Lucia? Vlad, the Depravita of Wrath, became the new object of worship.

Through a combination of propaganda, psychological manipulation, and the very real awe inspired by Vlad’s victory, the Xaos Kingdom began to convert the populace. It did not take long for the name of the God of Wrath to begin echoing through the streets of Radiance City, replacing the chants once reserved for Goddess Lucia.

As the weeks passed, the power of the Xaos Kingdom grew exponentially. They took control of everything the Azarin Empire had left behind—its infrastructure, resources, and, most importantly, its people. Over 90% of the population was successfully converted, leaving behind their xenophobia and embracing the worship of the God of Wrath. Once fanatically devoted to their old faith, these new converts now chanted Vlad’s name with equal fervor.

However, there remained a stubborn minority—approximately 8.5% of the population—whose deep-seated bigotry made them nearly impossible to convert. These individuals had not committed crimes severe enough to warrant execution, so they were quietly isolated, their influence reduced to almost nothing.

Then there was the final 1.5% of the population—those who had committed atrocities so severe that they would never see the light of day again. These individuals were imprisoned, and their lives were forfeited to the state. For the Xaos Kingdom, their deaths were not just about punishment but also a valuable opportunity. Souls were a very good currency, and it ensured a constant supply of bloodlines.

The transformation of the Azarin Empire into a province of the Xaos Kingdom was swift and thorough. Overlord’s meticulous planning and execution ensured the transition was as smooth as possible despite the monumental challenges. And as the days turned into weeks, the once-mighty theocracy became a new stronghold for the ever-expanding dominion of the Xaos Kingdom.

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More than fifteen thousand kilometers away from the Azarin Empire’s former capital, a sprawling encampment stretched as far as the eye could see. It resembled a vast, nomadic settlement, with hundreds of thousands of tents dotting the landscape like a sea of temporary homes. The air was thick with the scent of smoke from countless fires, and the ground rumbled beneath the feet of mighty warriors who moved with the strength of seasoned hunters.

The warriors were clad in the skins of beasts, their muscular bodies marked by the scars of countless battles. Each man and woman carried weapons forged not only for war but also for survival in the harsh wilderness of the post-apocalyptic world.

At the heart of this nomadic tribe stood a tent far larger and more majestic than the others. It was adorned with the pelts of mighty beasts, their fur still gleaming under the light of the sun, and its entrance was guarded by two warriors who stood as still as statues, their eyes ever watchful.

A middle-aged man of imposing stature sat on a throne made from the bones inside the grand tent. He was nearly two and a half meters tall, his body a living testament to raw power and vitality. His skin was tanned and weathered, his muscles corded and thick, and draped over his broad shoulders was a cloak made from the pelt of a dire wolf, its teeth still intact. But what was most striking about him was the golden mark on his forehead—a mark eerily similar to the one Vlad bore.

A pensive expression crossed the man’s face as he listened to the words of the person kneeling before him. "So, you are saying that a war has erupted in the Azarin Country?" The man’s voice was deep and resonant, carrying the weight of one accustomed to command.

The man prostrating himself before the king bowed lower, his voice trembling with solemnity. "Yes, King Viserin. I witnessed it from afar, thanks to my Gift. It was a massive army, with giants clad in gold and people capable of summoning demons. The power they wielded was like nothing I’ve ever seen."

Viserin’s face showed a cold and calculating smile as he nodded, his gaze shifting to the direction of the Azarin Country. A sharp light flickered in his eyes, a glint of interest and ambition.

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At the same moment that the nomadic king gazed toward the Azarin Empire, five thousand kilometers to the west of the Xaos Kingdom, a massive demonic horde was on the move, their number measured in the hundreds of thousands. The ground trembled beneath the weight of their numbers as they marched in a seemingly endless tide of darkness. Demonic beasts of every shape and size filled the landscape, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent.

Leading this nightmarish procession was an Abyssal. The demon resembled a staggering mountain of flesh, his body a grotesque amalgamation of writhing limbs, pulsating organs, and twisted, monstrous features. As he moved, the ground cracked and splintered beneath his colossal weight.

A cold, sinister smile played on the Abyssal’s lips as it gazed into the distance. "According to my information, my brother’s corpse should be in a mountain in that direction," he muttered, his voice a low, rumbling growl that seemed to emanate from the depths of the abyss itself. "I hope his flesh is still tender enough." The thought of devouring his own kin filled the Abyssal with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

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The demonic horde was not the only alien force encroaching upon the territories of the Xaos Kingdom. In the far north, fifty angels moved through the skies, their forms radiant with divine light. Leading them was a stunning woman with flowing golden hair, her wings shimmering with an ethereal energy that left a trail of brilliance in her wake.

These angels had just massacred an entire pack of monsters, one of which had been a High Champion. The woman’s eyes, cold and resolute, focused on a strange orb she held in her hand. Within the orb, the broken souls of the monsters writhed in torment.

"We still have a long way to go if we want to summon a Divine Avatar," the angelic woman said, her voice as melodic as it was commanding. "Let’s move. We need more sacrifices." Without another word, the angels spread their wings and ascended higher into the sky.

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Nomadic World King Candidates, demonic hordes in search of flesh, angelic squads on a divine quest—these were but a few of the forces moving across Terra. Yet, one of the most transcendent moments in the world was not happening on the ground or in the sky but in the stratosphere.

High above the planet, a massive trail of fire streaked across the heavens, its speed defying comprehension. The meteor blazed through the sky, leaving a trail of fiery destruction in its wake. As it hurtled toward the earth, its impact became inevitable.

The meteor pierced the atmosphere, its surface glowing white-hot as it tore through the air with a deafening roar. The sky itself seemed to split open as the meteor plunged toward the earth, aiming for a dense forest that lay in its path.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!"

The meteor struck the forest with the force of a small nuclear bomb, a blinding flash of light followed by a shockwave that leveled everything in its vicinity. Trees were uprooted and reduced to ash in an instant, the ground splintered and cracked, and a massive crater formed where the meteor had landed. The explosion sent a plume of fire and smoke towering into the sky, visible for miles around.