Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 551: Marshal Maximo

Chapter 551: Marshal Maximo

Taking a deep breath, Vlad and the rest of his group moved into the castle. Their eyes were sharp and keen, fully aware that whoever stood inside this imposing fortress was surely a person of incredible might. After all, anyone who could hold the title of Marshal of a place like the Golden Sky Fortress had to possess power beyond comprehension.

They finally crossed the outer walls, stepping from the harsh brightness of the day into the wide courtyard of the castle. As soon as they were within the fortress’s boundaries, they found themselves facing radiant golden walls. These walls were absolutely spotless, without even a speck of dust to sully their gleaming surface.

And yet, despite this pristine appearance, they held macabre trophies—carcasses of all sorts of monsters mounted as though on display. Some of these creatures belonged to the Voromettalice Race, their twisted remains still bearing traces of their once-fearsome nature, while others were even more bizarre, sporting unknown anatomy and giving off an uncanny feeling of dread.

Vlad’s eyes widened as he gazed upon the array of corpses, and he could tell that these creatures had been anything but ordinary in life. Even in death, they seemed to release faint waves of energy. He sensed that their very remains surpassed the power of Sages.

"Are those the corpses of Legends?" This marked Vlad’s first true interaction with what people in his world called "super-powerhouses" standing above normal folk like gods.

Surprisingly enough, the Depravita of Wrath’s first introduction to such might came in the form of these lifeless bodies. He did not allow this disquieting scene to stun him for too long and kept moving forward, determined to maintain his composure and discipline.

Surprisingly, the castle’s interior seemed mostly empty. The grand hallways were so silent that Vlad could hear the slightest echo of footsteps. He and his companions barely saw anyone except for a few butlers and servants, each appearing so careful and controlled in their movements that it looked like they might vanish into thin air at any moment.

It was only when Vlad and his companions crossed the main hall and entered what appeared to be the throne room that the situation changed drastically. Without warning, they were hit by several bursting auras that almost suffocated them. That pressure felt like being submerged under an ocean, each wave pressing relentlessly down upon their bodies and minds.

Vlad’s eyes sharpened in response, scanning the large chamber, and he immediately noticed there were numerous individuals scattered around the room. Some of them wore majestic armor, gleaming and ornate, while others resembled barbarians and wore hardly any clothing at all.

Yet, to Vlad’s utter surprise, he could not perceive the energy signatures of these individuals. It was as though a unique and powerful force was cloaking them, rendering their true might imperceptible to ordinary senses. At a simple glance, they appeared to be mere mortals. However, the fact that Vlad could not feel their energy pools at all only confirmed one thing in his mind: these figures were truly imposing and likely beyond anything he had witnessed before.

"Marshal Maximo, I have brought you Lord Agamenon and his group, as you requested," announced the imposing Royal Knight with a scar on his face. This was the very same knight whose overwhelming aura had nearly drowned Vlad and the others shortly before.

As he spoke, he kneeled and bowed his head, showing complete submission. Yet there was no hint of discomfort or shame in adopting such a pose; instead, only profound respect and admiration existed in his eyes. It was evident that he was addressing someone he revered from the depths of his being.

"Well done, William. You can leave now," came a voice so full of imposing might that it seemed to command the very power of the world itself. This voice echoed through the throne room in the next second, resonating like thunder in the still air. Only then did Vlad and the others become truly aware of a vast figure in the chamber—a gargantuan presence initially hidden from sight.

What Vlad saw was a monstrous entity of overwhelming, destructive power, so great it seemed capable of splitting oceans with a single wave of his sword. For a moment, the figure appeared to stand larger than the entire fortress, his colossal form enshrouded by layers of cosmic energy. Vlad and the other Sky Seed Depravitás could not even begin to comprehend such energy. Confusion arose on each of their faces as they tried to understand how such a towering being could fit within the confines of a relatively small castle. But within seconds, that imposing figure vanished like a fading mirage.

When the illusion cleared, they saw a middle-aged man sitting on a grand, dark throne. He stood—if one could say so while seated—at a height of around three meters, possessing a muscular yet lean physique. Every aspect of his body seemed perfectly attuned to battle. He had short black hair, a thick beard covering his jaw, and piercing green eyes that seemed to look right through anyone who met his gaze.

He was not particularly handsome in any conventional sense, and his face carried the aura of ages, showing the unmistakable traces of time and the burdens of war. It was easy for Vlad and the rest of the group to deduce that the god-like figure they had seen moments before was an illusion conjured by this man’s power—an overwhelming show of might that hammered home his identity.

William and the other Royal Knights were already so accustomed to the Marshal’s aura that they did not even blink at what had just transpired. They took their leave in an orderly fashion.

"Come closer," Marshal Maximo commanded, his voice echoing again through the vast throne room. The group found themselves marching forward almost by reflex, as though their bodies refused to disobey this man’s orders on an instinctive level. Soon, the six of them—Vlad, Agamenon, and their companions—were no more than ten meters away from the imposing throne.

Standing so close, they could see details they had missed at first. The eyes of Vlad and the rest went wide as they noticed a deep, large cut in the Marshal’s right arm. It was so profound that it seemed to have reached the bone, and worse yet, it appeared to be festering with a necrotic energy that gave it a sickly aura.

The Sky Seed Depravitás could not help but exchange anxious glances, wondering what kind of entity could have inflicted such a wound on this titan of a man.

Yet the Marshal gave no sign that he even noticed the wound. He spoke with calm composure, and his attention focused on Agamenon. "So you are Zero’s boy, right? You did well stabilizing the Sacred Flame. The seed of that idiot has not disappointed at all."

Hearing this praise, Agamenon first flashed a radiant smile. It was clear that he was proud to receive any form of approval from the Marshal, a living titan. However, as soon as the Marshal referred to his father as "an idiot," a flicker of anger rose in Agamenon’s eyes—anger that he made no effort to conceal, even though the man he was challenging with his gaze was a colossal powerhouse.

When the Marshal saw that anger, instead of taking offense, a smile appeared on his face, and he nodded approvingly. "You have courage, kid. I’ll give you that. But I will repeat myself: your father is an idiot. After all, what kind of man charges head-on into a fortress full of Legendary Demons without any plan at all? An idiot, that’s who!"

"Hahahahaha!" A burst of laughter resounded across the room the next second. Several men and women inside the hall, seemingly comrades of the Marshal, could not contain their amusement. Their laughter rolled across the chamber, reverberating off the golden walls.

"I still remember when that idiot chopped off the head of a Legendary general from a foreign empire, all because the general said our swords lacked sharpness," said a dark-skinned man with an imposing build and bulging muscles. His words only made the laughter grow louder and more boisterous.

"Or the time he attacked a dragon’s nest simply because the army was running low on rations," another woman chimed in. She was clad in mysterious robes, and just looking at her caused a faint sense of nausea, as if she held an immense ocean of magic within her body. "We were just two days away from the army camp, but apparently, he couldn’t wait that long."

"Like I said, a fool," the Marshal added, chuckling as he exchanged glances with those present. "But, I guess being a madman is what it takes to win the hand of the flower of the Imperial Family."

Although their words were mocking, there was a clear undercurrent of respect for this absent man, Agamenon’s father. It was an odd mixture of lighthearted insults and genuine admiration.

Hearing all of this, Agamenon’s anger soon faded, replaced by a flicker of pride in his eyes—and also a tinge of embarrassment. He knew his father was truly wild at heart. Even after marriage, Zero had only marginally tempered his chaotic impulses, but on a battlefield, that old madness always came roaring back. Agamenon had often seen his mother scolding his father about his reckless nature, telling him she could not understand how he was still alive.

The sudden shift to a joyful, laughter-filled atmosphere served to ease the tension that had pressed down on Vlad and the others like a tangible weight. However, that sense of levity did not last very long. Soon, Marshal Maximo’s eyes grew sharp once more, his amusement fading in an instant as he focused his gaze on Agamenon again.

"I heard that you were ambushed by a horde of Voromattallicae led by two Sages. Is that right?" the Marshal asked, his voice losing all trace of humor. The authority he wielded was so palpable that it sent a shiver through the group. They knew that in the realms of war and power, the question was not a mere inquiry—it was a demand for precise information.