Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 468: Master

Chapter 468: Master

The human army continued its systematic slaughter of any remaining Leviathans. These creatures, taken from some conjured nightmare, proved helpless before the blades, spears, and hammers of the forces they had attempted to consume. The battle had been savage, fought inside the Wendy Country where an obsidian obelisk lay—the heart of the Leviathan Race’s collective power. The army they faced was more than ten times larger in sheer numbers. Despite that, they had crushed it!

The God stood a short distance away from the main fray. His body trembled faintly from time to time, indicating the backlash he had suffered was still coursing through him, but he seemed unconcerned by any pain. Instead, his attention rested on the young man cloaked in lightning and fire who fought at the forefront, the King of the Xaos Civilization.

Vlad rallied the troops with unparalleled might, flashing across the battlefield and butchering any Leviathan that dared remain upright.

Yet the show lasted less than half an hour. At that time, the last remnants of the Leviathan swarm were cut down. Black blood pooled thickly, forming stagnant lakes of tar-like fluid. Flames leaped from corpse to corpse and the heat charred sections of already scorched earth. The noxious smell caused the soldiers to gag behind their armor’s filtration devices, but not a single warrior stepped back. They had marched into the Wendy Country, threatened by an army so numerous it had seemed hopeless to resist—yet now they stood victorious. They had not only bested that massive force in an open field, but they had also faced and driven off the Leviathans’ most powerful champions!

"VICTORY!" Vlad’s shout boomed, resonating like thunder across the plains of death and smoke. He raised one arm toward the darkened sky.

"Victory!"

"Victory!"

"Victory!"

"Victory!"

The chant rose among the soldiers, echoing with unstoppable fervor. Bloodied though they were, they felt their spirits soar at the realization of what they had accomplished. They imagined a day when the Leviathan threat would be ended once and for all, a moment where they could stand unchallenged in a world free of this unimaginable horror. Vlad watched them with a satisfied grin. Their success lit a hopeful spark in every tired face, a spark that kindled the idea that the war’s close might no longer be a distant fantasy.

His smile faded the moment he turned to Freya. The Viking princess embodied untamed ferocity and unwavering loyalty. She stood battered, her form littered with cuts and bruises. Though she bore these wounds stoically, Vlad’s eyes darkened with quiet rage, for he could see how close she had come to dying in the fray. A flicker of cold wrath stirred in him, yet he held his emotions in check. This was a moment for pride and relief, not reckless fury.

"A.I. Chip," he murmured, voice low enough that none of the celebrating soldiers heard. With a subtle mental command, he activated the device. Over the commotion, he glanced at Freya, letting the interface provide an internal scan of her injuries. Though she outwardly appeared functional, Vlad refused to trust appearance alone. He had seen too many warriors conceal fatal wounds in the name of morale.

[Beep! The condition of the target is stable. Multiple wounds and internal organ damage were detected, but the heart and brain remained uninjured. No vital organ has sustained a fatal blow. With sufficient rest and healing drugs, the target will recover in a matter of days.]

A breath of relief escaped him. He felt a genuine smile form on his lips, thankful for the assessment. "Good," he said under his breath. "It seems I won’t have to use the 7 Sins Ritual."

After evolving into a Sky Seed Depravita, Vlad had gained the ability to perform it once more, and while a new Depravita would be a great asset to the war effort, he was saving it. The ritual could bring someone back from death, so its value was unimaginable. If Vlad had the ritual available when he faced the Pope from the Azarin Empire, he could have brought Cazan back to life. The memory sparked a pang of sorrow, but Vlad pushed it aside. The immediate battle had ended, yet there was still more to address.

Raising his head, Vlad let his gaze fall upon the distant figure of the God. Freya, Grand Marshal Anglius, King Viserin, and the rest of the soldiers felt the atmosphere shift the moment he did so. Their shouts of victory died away, replaced by a reflective hush. They owed this mysterious man a debt of gratitude—no one could deny that his intervention had turned the tide in a critical instant. Without him, the Leviathan Lords might have killed Freya and wrought devastation to the army. But the humans remained uncertain of his motives or his next move and, more importantly, how he would interact with the highest military authority of the human race.

Vlad sensed the sudden tension tightening like a drawn bowstring. Calmly, he walked toward the God, flame and lightning gradually dimming around his frame. He offered no grand gestures, only a measured pace that radiated the authority of a man accustomed to confronting the unknown. Soldiers who had been chanting minutes before now watched in silence as their king approached the man who had saved them. They observed the faint tremor that occasionally shook the God’s body, wondering if his backlash made him vulnerable—or dangerous.

It took only a short time for the Depravita of Wrath and the God to stand face to face. Freya, battered as she was, could not help but watch with bated breath. She recalled how the God had emerged from nowhere, turning certain death into an astonishing rescue. Now, the entire army’s focus lay on these two figures. Would words of gratitude be exchanged? Would the God demand something in return? Would hostilities break out?

Yet neither one spoke initially. A silent tension enveloped them, heightened by the reek of scorched blood and ash. Though the God’s body still shook from time to time, he showed no hint of fear. His gaze once fixated on Vlad’s rampage, now studied him up close. The surrounding troops dared not move or speak.

After several seconds of hushed anticipation, something unexpected occurred. The mighty being who wielded Divine Force performed a deep bow. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze—the flicker of flames, the burning blood on the ground, the pulsing adrenaline in the veins of the entire army.

Then, a single word broke through the silence.

"Master."