Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 489: Fafnir

Chapter 489: Fafnir

Only three short words, yet the moment hundreds of thousands of soldiers heard them, those words reverberated like divine thunder through their minds, hearts, and souls.

In that instant, the battlefield full of scorched earth and broken armor fell silent as if even the wind paused to acknowledge the gravity of the proclamation. The sound of weapons falling to the ground echoed across the open space: swords, spears, and axes clattering on bloodstained soil. Soldiers finally relaxed their grips, letting the overwhelming dread of battle slip away like a discarded cloak. Months, years for some, of grueling war had reached its terminus.

Some among the ranks dropped to their knees the moment the tension snapped. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, crashed over them like a tidal wave. Others wept, tears sliding down cheeks smudged with grime and soot, or roared out joy and disbelief in the same breath. A myriad of emotions flickered across the faces of men and women who had survived a brutal, relentless conflict against an alien enemy numbering in the hundreds of millions.

"Ahhhhh!"

"Hahahahaha!"

Screams and laughter began to fill the air. The soldiers allowed their minds to relax for the first time in what felt like an age. Fear of death, the thrill of victory, grief for fallen comrades, relief at being alive—these feelings merged into a volatile canopy of emotion that surged through them all.

Standing atop an immense draconic form wreathed in flames, Vlad watched the army and smiled. The warriors who had followed him so far were not mindless machines, for all their discipline and training might suggest otherwise. They were human beings with hearts, hopes, and deep wells of courage. None of them had wanted to die, but all had been prepared to do so to protect their homeland. And now the war was over: they had survived.

"WE WON!"

"WE DEFEATED THOSE MONSTERS!"

In moments, shouts rang throughout the gathered soldiers, many of them reveling in the final glory of their ultimate triumph. The massive flaming dragon upon whose head Vlad stood looked out at the countless men and women. His fiery eyes glowed as though they attempted to interpret the vast tapestry of emotions pulsing from their hearts. Vlad observed the reflective light in the eyes of the Depravita of Envy and chose to say nothing just yet, allowing the uproar and catharsis to flow uninterrupted. Only after several minutes did the storm of voices subside, giving him a chance to speak.

Raising his voice so all might hear, the Xoas King addressed the triumphant, exhausted mass. "My soldiers! You have more than earned the right to rest and enjoy the victory, but before that, let’s gather our fallen comrades from the cold ground and prepare them for a proper rest back in our homes."

Immediately, all the jubilation coursing through the troops dimmed. They turned to look around the scorched battlefield, sorrow tinging their expressions. Now that the Leviathans were annihilated, the corpses of those who had sacrificed everything lay in heartbreaking clarity. Friends, relatives, and fellow warriors who had once marched beside them would no longer open their eyes.

"You heard the Xaos King. Move!" Grand Marshal Anglius’s voice rang out, snapping everyone from their grief-stricken stupor into purposeful action. The golden giant—still battered from countless battles—directed squads to fan out, carefully collecting the bodies.

Even Jormgundr and Ouroborus, the Sky Seed Depravitas, joined in the effort, descending from their vantage in the sky to help wherever they could.

Freya shared a momentary glance with Vlad, offering a soft nod, before leaping off the dragon’s massive form and dashing into the devastated field below. Her chest wounds still pained her, but she moved with determined purpose, eyes scanning the fallen. Within minutes, she arrived at a circle of Vikings gathered around the body of an older man with gray hair—Grey Hawk. The young princess had kept her mind razor-focused during the last phase of the war, barely giving herself time to think about personal loss. Now, confronted with the sight of the man’s still form, overwhelming sadness flooded her face.

She was far from the only one struggling with sorrow. Some distance away, Grand Marshal Anglius gently lifted Lieutenant Mitchel’s body in his colossal arms. Mitchel had stood by Anglius’s side from the very onset of this apocalyptic war, and over time, the steadfast lieutenant had become like a son to him. Now, tears traced their way out from beneath the giant’s helmet as he laid Mitchel’s remains in a stone coffin conjured by magic. Neither rank nor bravery had shielded the young soldier from the cruelty of fate.

Not far off, Major General Theodoro quietly closed the eyes of a young woman who had once been among the mighty 19 Bloodline Soldiers. She lay on the field, her life ended before its prime.

Across the battlefield, Captain Ned of the Lords of Horror gazed at the ten white juggernauts lying motionless in the dirt, no longer breathing. Despite the brutal mental alterations that had suppressed his emotions, a flicker of sorrow carved itself onto his features. They had all been family in arms, a band of monstrous juggernauts created for war—yet they were still capable of forging bonds deeper than many might guess.

High above, on the massive dragon’s head, the flaming giant’s eyes never left the soldiers below. Observing such widespread grief, he seemed perplexed. The newly formed Depravita of Envy, embodied in draconic form, frowned at the sight of tears, body after body being gathered, solemn farewells voiced to the fallen.

He spoke softly, his voice tinged with genuine bewilderment. "If connection to others brings so much pain, why allow them? Why not just close your heart?"

Still standing in the dragon’s fiery crown, Vlad responded with a knowing smile. His thoughts drifted to a metallic friend he had lost long ago, reminding him how pain sometimes becomes an inescapable part of caring.

The Depravita of Wrath answered in a calm, thoughtful tone. "Fafnir. We accept that pain because it proves what we felt for those people was real. Besides, not all pain is bad. It helps us remember them and the good moments we shared together."

He reached out and patted the Depravita of Envy’s head in a reassuring gesture. "Love is a wonderful emotion, one that can help you grow beyond your limits and achieve wonders you cannot even imagine."