Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 544: Depravita Soul Bloodline

Chapter 544: Depravita Soul Bloodline

Zalasar stared at the young man for a few seconds before nodding softly. It was true that the battlefield was already theirs. Although Agamenon was supposed to remain hidden for the duration of their journey, they were already close to the Golden Sky Fortress. Revealing himself to kill a Voroe Sage, under those circumstances, seemed worth the risk.

However, as Zalasar surveyed the aftermath of the battle and noted the new figures standing nearby, a small frown appeared on his face. He turned his scrutinizing gaze toward the newcomers, his warhorse stamping impatiently beneath him.

In Zalasar’s mind, there was no doubt that these outsiders were not aligned with the Vorometallicae race or any faction from the Chaovoratities Plane. Their help in the death of the Sage made it clear they had no love for the Voroes. Yet his inherent caution remained.

Just because they fought a common enemy did not mean they were entirely trustworthy. He sensed the aura of their souls, and while it strongly resembled that of humanity, there was something slightly off—a subtle hint that they could belong to one of the myriad races dwelling within The Darkness.

Paranoia could prove to be a lifesaver in a Doomsday World. Zalasar knew this all too well. In fact, it was his paranoid instincts that had pushed him to use a treasured artifact to obliterate the mountain range earlier, taking out a large portion of the Voroe horde. That decisive strike had saved many lives. Now, as he studied these newcomers, Zalasar’s cautious nature continued to guide him.

Vlad, sensing Zalasar’s guarded expression, remained calm. He offered no sudden moves, no abrupt words. The last remnants of the Voroe horde had been annihilated, granting everyone a moment to breathe.

Once the battle’s clamor and dust settled, the cavalry and warriors accompanying Zalasar regrouped behind him, forming a protective formation in a wide semicircle. In turn, Vlad made a small gesture with his hand, prompting Jormungandr to stand on his shoulders. On the other hand, Fafnir and Ouroburs flanked him closely, their stances poised yet non-threatening.

A tense silence fell as the two groups observed each other. Only moments ago, they had fought side by side against a common enemy. Now, the question hung heavily in the air: Would cooperation persist, or would fresh conflicts arise?

Agamenon, still exuding a warm golden aura that shimmered around the edges of his armor, glanced at Zalasar. After a brief exchange of nods, both men advanced together, closing the distance until they stood about fifty meters from Vlad and his companions.

Zalasar dismounted from his imposing warhorse with ease, his armor clinking softly. The rider’s impressive physique and regal bearing were unmistakable. Agamenon, equally tall and powerfully built, stepped forward. Both men clasped hands, then offered a short, respectful bow.

"In the name of Graecia and House Solaris," Zalasar declared, his voice echoing across the field, "we sincerely appreciate your assistance."

Vlad and the other Sky Seed Depravitas smiled at that formal greeting. They had indeed saved the Graecians’ lives, so a measure of gratitude was reasonable. Caution still hovered between them, but politeness went a long way toward smoothing the edges.

"You’re welcome," Vlad replied, offering his own short bow. "Members of The Light should help each other."

His words carried a certain weight, and Agamenon’s eyes sharpened as though he caught a hidden meaning. Despite the tension, the young lord nodded. "I am Agamenon Solaris," he said, "and this is Zalasar Darmount, leader of the Dark Troops of House Solaris. We both serve the Graecia Empire."

Agamenon’s tone was calm but firm, revealing his station. It was clear he was accustomed to authority, though his earlier intervention had shown he did not shy away from danger.

Vlad gave a polite dip of his head in acknowledgment. "I am Vlad Xaos. These are my companions—Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir." He gestured to each of them in turn.

Jormungandr waved his paw, Ouroboros offered a slight nod, and Fafnir remained silent, arms crossed. Together, they radiated an aura of power tempered by an inscrutable reserve.

After a short pause, Vlad continued, "As for our origin, I’m afraid it involves sensitive information I cannot fully disclose. I can tell you only that we come from a human plane."

Agamenon and Zalasar exchanged a glance. The secrecy did not surprise them. Many people from smaller or weaker planes traveled to Doomsday Worlds in search of resources or training. It was entirely reasonable that Vlad would want to protect the exact coordinates of his home.

If word of a small plane’s location leaked out, it could invite invasion or enslavement from powerful enemies. The fact that Vlad addressed the issue directly, rather than weaving elaborate fictions, reassured them that he was not deliberately trying to deceive them.

Vlad then allowed them a moment to digest this revelation before pressing on. "As for the four of us, we are Depravitas," he said, his voice measured.

Zalasar and Agamenon glanced at one another. Silence thickened for an instant—neither of them had heard that term before. Finally, Agamenon spoke, the curiosity evident in his eyes. "Could you elaborate on what a Depravitas is?"

Vlad nodded, offering a faint, reassuring smile. "We belong to the Depravita Soul Bloodline," he explained. "Our powers are linked to the emotional spectrum, and so are our abilities."

A flash of comprehension and awe appeared on Agamenon’s face. Zalasar’s stern features also shifted subtly, acknowledging the rarity of soul-based bloodlines.

Soul Bloodlines were known to be exceedingly rare: traits that sprang not merely from the body but from the deepest recesses of one’s spirit. They often granted extraordinary potential, and judging by the power Vlad and his companions had displayed, there was no reason to doubt his explanation.

In reality, the Depravita Racial Heritage Vlad and the others possessed was even more profound than a simple soul-based bloodline. However, they felt it safer to offer a partial truth rather than let speculation run wild. In a place saturated by powerful Sages and Legends, it was all but impossible to remain entirely hidden. Better to control the narrative than leave others to imagine the worst.

Zalasar, having digested Vlad’s words, spoke with measured caution. "I gather you came to this Doomsday World to train yourselves. Your destination must be the Golden Sky Fortress, correct?"

Vlad nodded, as did Jormungandr, Ouroburs, and Fafnir. The fortress was evidently a well-known point of convergence in this chaotic land.

"Then you may travel with us," Zalasar allowed. "But understand this—I must insist that you suppress your energy signatures. If I detect any sudden fluctuation, I will take it as an act of aggression."