Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 484: Beyond the Final Breath

Chapter 484: Beyond the Final Breath

Terror, shock, and impotence assailed the hearts of Jormgundr and Ouroborus, leaving the two Sky Seed Depravitas paralyzed at the sight before them. Vlad—who had carried the hopes of humanity on his shoulders—lay in their midst, a mangled, broken figure whose breath no longer stirred. The battlefield, moments ago filled with continuous noise and deadly clash, now seemed suspended in a hush of dread.

"A.I. Chip, show me a way!" shouted the small yellow cat, his voice raw with desperation. He was no stranger to crisis, but this time, the situation felt irreversible, and his trembling body betrayed his mounting fear.

Yet the response that echoed in his mind was no different from before.

[Beep. The target’s damage is too severe. Not only is his heart destroyed, but the rest of his internal organs—including his brain, lungs, liver, kidneys, spinal cord, and stomach—have suffered lethal damage. Even with the Origin Force gained through the death of the Leviathan King, there is no path to salvation.]

The robotic intonation that usually rang with calm objectivity now felt like a hammer blow. Jormgundr’s outrage exploded in a cry of pure grief, "DAMMIT!"

Ouroborus, the white werewolf, shared his despair. He stood over Vlad’s remains, uncertain whether to rage or weep, yet only trembling sorrow showed on his lupine features.

All around them, the once-roaring battlefield had fallen unnaturally silent. Human soldiers, who moments before had risked life and limb in battle, stared in stunned recognition. The war seemed won at last: the Leviathan King was gone, and the Leviathan Race had collapsed under the psychic shock. But that victory demanded the ultimate toll from their leader. Not a single soldier dared approach the small yellow cat or the white werewolf; they instinctively knew that the weight of tragedy was far too immense to break with empty words.

Suddenly, a faint whisper resounded. It should have been impossible for a man with no functioning lungs or heart to speak, yet somehow Vlad forced out a final shred of voice.

"*It... is... fine..."

Jormgundr and Ouroborus jolted in unison. The sound carried so softly that, at first, they doubted their own ears. Then, they recognized the flicker of motion in Vlad’s shattered form. A shock of relief warred with horror—he was alive for a moment longer, and that final moment might just crush them with the knowledge that they could do nothing.

Panic threaded itself into Jormgundr’s following words, "Boss, what can we do!?" he cried, hoping Vlad might have one last miracle.

But the young man only responded with a feeble smile. The words dribbled brokenly from his lips, along with a mouthful of blood and bits of shredded organs. His life force, all but extinguished, resembled a faint ember flickering on a dying wick.

"There is nothing... left to... do."

With that, another wet cough escaped his mouth, and dark crimson splattered across the ground. Jormgundr and Ouroborus realized the truth: Vlad’s heart had indeed failed, his body all but destroyed. No matter how they longed for a path to save him, no path existed. The silent hush weighed more heavily than any chaos from before.

Footsteps pounded on the blood-soaked earth. Freya came running despite deep wounds on her chest. Though the Leviathan King’s demise had granted her a surge of Origin Force, her injuries were still grievous, and merely standing must have taxed her beyond reason. Yet none of that mattered to her now, and she dropped to her knees beside Vlad. A grimace of horror etched itself across her features at the sight of the ruin that was the young man’s body. Her gaze moved from Jormgundr to Ouroborus, but neither cat nor werewolf could do more than look away, their postures sagging in defeat.

Vlad stirred again, his voice so faint as to be nearly silent. "You... are safe. Everybody is... safe. That is all... that matters..."

The next second, Vlad’s eyes lost their light. The flickering ember of existence snuffed out. Sadness, pain, and utter anguish clamped down on Jormgundr’s, Ouroborus’s, and Freya’s hearts as tears came unbidden. Their champion, the man who had endured unthinkable horrors to deliver them from annihilation, had finally reached his limit. It felt as though their spirits lay scattered in a million broken pieces on the ground.

As the heart of the trio broke in sorrow, a figure manifested beside them. Overlord appeared at the crater’s edge. His face, normally an impassive mask, revealed an uncharacteristic glimmer of internal turmoil. Like Freya, he had used the Origin Force gleaned from the Leviathan King’s death to mend his wounds, but the deeper wounds on his psyche were not so easy to repair. The primary directive of Overlord was to safeguard Vlad’s life, and he had failed. Overlord’s mind’s swirling torrent of thoughts remained hidden behind an expressionless facade. Then, without a word of warning or explanation, he dashed forward, seizing Vlad’s lifeless body and hurling it into the distance.

Jormgundr and Ouroborus, paralyzed by grief, didn’t understand what was happening in time to intervene. Freya, too distraught to process the Divine Avatar’s sudden motion, stared in stunned disbelief. Only when she saw Vlad’s body land inside the maw of the obsidian obelisk and vanish into its dark recesses did her shock transform into enraged clarity.

Her eyes went wild, and she turned with a furious snarl, tackling Overlord to the ground. She grabbed him by the robes, slamming him into the earth with savage force.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?"

The princess’s raw fury set her trembling. She wanted to bury Vlad, to hold onto some piece of him, yet Overlord had stolen even that possibility by casting his remains into the black monolith.

Overlord did not resist. He accepted her blows with neither flinch nor fight, looking up from the ground as he spoke in a calm, neutral voice, "I am fulfilling the purpose of my existence."

Freya growled in frustration. The words were senseless to her mind, already clouded by sorrow. She clenched her fist, raising it as though to strike him again:

"What does that even mean, you psychopathic son of a—"

But before she could complete her curse, an extraordinary phenomenon interrupted.

"BOOOOOOOOMMMMMM."

A thunderous explosion resounded from behind her. Spinning around with eyes wide, Freya witnessed a vortex emerging from the obsidian obelisk’s core. The gargantuan spiral didn’t devour biomass or energy as the Leviathan obelisks usually did. Instead, it seemed to channel something intangible—ethereal.

Black tendrils of an unknown spectral force converged into the shattered black spire, swirling around it in a tightening spiral. Unease flashed through the ranks of the regular soldiers, and they instinctively raised their weapons, half expecting the Leviathan Race to rise again. But the highest authorities of the Xaos Civilization—Jormgundr, Ouroborus, Freya, the Royal Guards, Grand Marshal Anglius—reacted differently. Hope rose in their hearts. They recognized the phenomenon.

This vortex was swallowing negative emotions: despair, hatred, sorrow, bloodlust, and countless other swirling miseries that lingered even after the war’s end. The air was ripe with such negative energies, and the vortex drank them in greedily. They recalled how Jormgundr and Ouroborus had once transformed into Depravitas through a similar swirl of negativity. If the obelisk was devouring those dark sentiments now...

For the first time in its life, Overlord allowed a slight smile to cross his lips. A single word escaped him. "Success!"

---

Within the unique dimension contained inside the obsidian obelisk, Vlad opened his eyes. A strange expression flickered across the Depravita of Wrath’s face as he looked around, confusion etched in every line. The young man had been certain of his own death mere moments ago. Yet here he was, unmistakably alive. Shock only intensified as he realized he felt no heartbeat—no breath. Yet he did not suffocate.

Observing his new body, Vlad discovered only a spectral humanoid shape, translucent in the half-light of this cryptic realm. The realization came swiftly. "I am just a soul right now."

The acceptance brought neither comfort nor terror, merely clarity to his condition. Yet there were still a lot of things that did not make sense; first of all, what was this place, and how was he able to remain stable as a soul? Luckily, there was someone that could help him with that.

"A.I. Chip. What happened?" he asked silently.

The A.I. Chip, connected to his soul, answered in the same robotic monotone as always:

[Beep! Host’s life ended due to catastrophic wounds. Just before the Host’s soul left the physical plane, it was inserted into the obsidian obelisk, whose internal dimension allowed the Host’s soul to remain stable without a body. In order to ensure the Host was not destroyed by the will of the hive mind, I carried out the Seven Sin Ritual on the spirit inside the obelisk, using the Origin Force gained through the death of the Leviathan King, transforming it into the Depravita of Envy.]

Shocked, Vlad paused to process. Each statement described a chain of improbable events that saved him from final oblivion. However, before he could give order to those thoughts, a voice echoed inside the dimension.

"Who are you!?"