Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 536: Four vs one

Chapter 536: Four vs one

Fafnir’s reptilian eyes glinted with cold focus as he glared at the wounded but still formidable, three-headed minotaur. In his towering draconic form—forty-five meters of crimson scales and blazing mane, Fafnir lunged forward, seizing the minotaur’s ten-meter-tall body with startling speed.

The three-headed minotaur struggled fiercely, bellowing from all three heads, but Fafnir’s grip proved unrelenting. With a single, swift rotation, the fiery dragon spun in midair and then dived toward the volcanic ground below.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!"

The impact was thunderous. Debris exploded in every direction as the shockwave carved a crater into the blackened terrain. Fafnir’s sheer mass and momentum forced the minotaur to absorb most of the force.

Even after all that damage, the Depravita of Envy was not over. Pinning the three-headed minotaur beneath razor-sharp claws, Fafnir leaned forward. His massive draconic maws parted, revealing swirling vortexes of flame.

A torrent of scorching fire erupted from Fafnir’s jaws, merging into a blinding conflagration that melted earth and rock. Rivers of molten lava pooled around the minotaur’s body, sizzling as they came into contact with its obsidian armor. Fafnir intended to cripple his foe completely.

Just as the inferno threatened to bury the three-headed minotaur entirely, a voice—laced with bottomless hatred—shook the air.

"ENOUGH!"

The powerful roar triggered every danger sense in Fafnir’s mind. Without hesitation, the dragon sprang backward. His hasty retreat spared him from the full brunt of the calamity that followed.

A pillar of dark flames exploded upward, so intense that it appeared to scorch the very fabric of space. The torrent swept past Fafnir’s left arm, searing flesh and scales in a single, agonizing moment. A pained roar escaped his jaws as he backpedaled, landing on a ledge of cracked volcanic stone.

The Depravita of Envy scowled at the deep burn on his arm. Worse than the physical damage was a sinister energy lacing the wound—a corrosive darkness that crept like acid through his flesh, threatening to spread deeper if left unchecked.

Before Fafnir could further assess his injury, three figures materialized at his side—Vlad, Ouroboros, and Jormungandr.

"How bad is it?" Vlad asked, his eyes darting between the wound and the pillar of dark flames that still raged behind them.

"I sense some kind of hostile energy in your arm," Jormungandr muttered, frowning. "I doubt normal healing abilities would be effective."

Fafnir grimaced, voice rumbling. "I can already feel it gnawing at the muscle. But I think I have a way to handle it."

With a flash of determination, Fafnir channeled his Depravita Aura around his injured arm. Tiny arcs of black aura rippled over his scales, devouring the dark flame residue that clung to the wound. Slowly, the corrosive energy diminished. By the time the swirling aura subsided, most of the damaged flesh was repaired. A few angry, raw patches remained, but the lethal corruption had been neutralized.

Vlad and the others managed thin smiles. It had cost Fafnir nearly a third of his reserves, but it worked.

Their momentary relief dissolved, however, when they turned their attention back to the towering vortex of dark flames that streaked into the sky. The conflagration raged with such intensity that merely brushing against it had severely injured Fafnir. None of them wanted to imagine what would happen if they faced a direct hit.

Suddenly, a metallic clang pierced the air. A colossal warhammer—left abandoned near a flowing river of lava—levitated and hurtled toward the column of dark flames. A massive, charred hand emerged from within that infernal pillar and seized the weapon. Slowly, the three-headed minotaur’s hulking silhouettes could be seen trudging forward, flames receding around them.

The three-headed minotaur’s eyes gleamed with savage brutality. Both of his war hammers crackled with black fire.

"It has been a long time since I was forced to use my Sage Ability," he growled, his voice echoing across the scorched plain. "I must sacrifice my life force, but you four... you are worthy of it. Now, you will pay the price for angering Ovalion!"

With those words, the three-headed minotaur exploded into motion. Every step caused the ground to quake, and the combined might of his dual war hammers radiated enough force to topple a mountain.

Vlad, Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir glanced at one another, each face reflecting grim resolve. They already knew their battle plan, so there was no need for words.

Leading the charge was the Depravita of Wrath. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, fueling the wrathful energy coursing through his veins. With a snarl, he leaped forward, launching a concentrated laser-like beam from his eyes. This searing attack collided with one of Ovalion’s war hammers, holding it at bay for a split second.

Ovalion’s right war hammer was momentarily neutralized by that beam, but the minotaur refused to let up. His left war hammer came smashing down toward Vlad. Unfazed, Vlad coated his fists in a destructive mixture of fire and lightning, meeting the war hammer’s gargantuan mass head-on. Sparks and embers erupted where they clashed, neither side yielding an inch.

Though the minotaur dwarfed Vlad in sheer size, the Depravita’s monstrous body and mutated flesh granted him insane resilience. For a moment, man and beast were locked in a power struggle, each mustering enough might to crush a small fortress.

The Depravita of Greed seized this opportunity. With a fierce cry, he rocketed forward, unleashing a flurry of blows at the minotaur’s already-cracked chest armor. Each strike reverberated with kinetic force, slowly widening the cracks until, finally, Ouroboros landed a decisive kick brimming with destructive energy. The impact shattered more of Ovalion’s obsidian plating, sending the three-headed beast reeling backward.

Blood—dark and steaming—dribbled from Ovalion’s center head. Yet the minotaur’s spirit raged on, refusing to succumb. Sensing an attack from above, all three heads swiveled upward to see a fearsome draconic silhouette lunging down once again, his wings outstretched, jaws wide.

An eerie glow lit Ovalion’s eyes. Dark flames erupted from each of his three mouths, forming a twisting wave of black fire. Fafnir recognized the danger and threw his body into a desperate half-roll to avoid the center of the inferno. He succeeded in dodging the worst of it but was forced to abort his own attack in the process.

A triumphant smirk crossed Ovalion’s three faces as he saw the dragon recoil. Yet his moment of satisfaction was short-lived. His entire body tensed when he felt four soft paws land lightly on his broad back.

"World Snake Divine!"

Jormungandr roared at point-blank range. A swirling mass of lightning and fire shaped into a colossal serpent’s head, shooting forth from the Depravita of Gluttony’s maw and colliding with Ovalion’s hide in a cataclysmic burst.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!"

Lightning crackled, arcs of fire danced, and a shockwave flattened the nearby rocky spires. Ovalion’s screams vibrated through the molten landscape.