Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 555: Healing the Marshal (II)

Chapter 555: Healing the Marshal (II)

It did not take Vlad long to complete his scan. Once finished, he withdrew an array of materials from his space ring—some collected in this Doomsday World, others brought from Terra, and even some containing devil bloodlines.

Marshal Maximo’s eyes sharpened as he observed each item with a discerning gaze. The old man in the gray robe looked on just as attentively, and so did the other Legends gathered in the throne room. They all wanted to see if they could glean anything from Vlad’s technique. In a realm as unforgiving as this, learning a new method to counteract the chaotic energy of The Darkness was a priceless opportunity—one they were not about to pass up, even if it bordered on prying.

Vlad, for his part, paid little heed to the group’s close scrutiny. He began working on the materials, calmly preparing them for the next stage. It took him several minutes to combine, refine, and transform each component. He applied various catalysts, some gleaned from the lethal environment of the Doomsday World, others that were far more commonplace.

Eventually, all of it coalesced into a soft paste. Extending his right hand, Vlad conjured a dark, flaming sphere of plasma, using it to thoroughly blend the final mixture. He was meticulous, ensuring that every ounce of the liquid was uniformly charged with the energies he wanted.

By the time he finished, the only thing remaining was a dark red liquid. With great care, he poured this substance into his runic pen. Pausing for a moment, Vlad then placed his left hand on Marshal Maximo’s injured arm while bringing the pen’s tip in contact with the surface of the man’s skin. The entire throne room fell silent, as though everyone had forgotten to breathe.

Unfortunately, just as Vlad applied a bit of pressure to begin engraving the runes, the pen’s tip shattered. A sharp crack echoed in the quiet hall, and the broken tip bounced off Maximo’s arm before clattering to the floor. For a moment, nobody spoke, and the silence felt painfully awkward. It was painfully obvious that the Marshal’s skin, tempered by Legendary power, was too durable for the basic runic pen Vlad had attempted to use.

"Ahhh," Maximo exhaled, breaking the hush. He shifted his gaze to the old man in the gray robe. "Elder Damian."

The old man gave a curt nod and then seemed to vanish into the shadows. He returned barely ten seconds later, holding a different runic pen in his hands. It appeared far more formidable than the one Vlad had broken. Even from a distance, Vlad could tell this pen’s tip was fashioned from a material strong enough to slice through even high-grade armor as though it were soft clay. Elder Damian handed it over without a word.

Vlad’s eyes widened at the pen’s quality. It was, by all appearances, far superior to anything he had used before. Deciding against false modesty, he accepted it with an appreciative smile, then carefully transferred the dark red liquid from his damaged pen into the new one.

This time, when Vlad pressed the tip against the Marshal’s arm, it pierced the flesh cleanly, allowing him to carve runic lines. Maximo focused intently on Vlad’s work, observing how deftly his hand moved. The Marshal could not help but give a subtle nod of approval. The young man’s dexterity was genuinely remarkable, akin to that of a Rank 4 Runic Master—someone who had spent a lifetime honing their skills.

Vlad, however, paid no attention to the unspoken praise. His thoughts remained fully occupied by the task at hand. He traced out the intricate patterns, layering each segment of the runes close to the tainted wound. Every line had to be precise—an error of even a fraction could be catastrophic, especially when dealing with the destructive nature of The Darkness. Bit by bit, he etched lines of crimson ink into the Marshal’s flesh.

The process was laborious, taking nearly three and a half hours. By the time Vlad lifted the pen from Maximo’s arm, beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead. Working for that long under silent, watchful eyes had demanded intense focus and an abundance of energy, but he wore a broad smile as he finally turned to the Marshal.

"You can activate it," Vlad said, stepping back just enough to give Maximo room to channel his power.

Maximo studied Vlad for a heartbeat, then shifted his gaze to the rune formation that now spread across his arm. It was an impressive design, reminiscent of a finely crafted tapestry, but at first glance, it hardly seemed special enough to neutralize the terrifying chaos energy in his wound. Still, Maximo had come too far to turn back without trying, so he nodded and guided his internal energy into the runic formation.

In an instant, the lines glowed with life, and the very next second, they erupted into dark flames. These flames extended across the Marshal’s arm, spreading inward as they delved into his flesh, reaching all the way to the bone. At first, the power of the flames seemed too weak to affect Maximo’s reinforced body. All he felt was a faint warmth. But within seconds, that gentle warmth turned scorching, as though molten lava were coursing through his veins.

A pained expression seized Maximo’s features, causing the Legends around him to tense. They glanced at Vlad, wondering what the young man might have done. Had his attempt to heal instead inflicted further damage?

"Hahahahahaha!" However, before speculation could run rampant, Marshal Maximo’s voice boomed, and despite the obvious agony etched on his face, he wore a triumphant grin. The searing fire was colliding with the chaotic energy in his wounds, actively consuming it. Yet, in the process, the flames were escalating in potency, and the fierceness of that growing power manifested as pain.

Elder Damian and the rest of the Legends felt their hearts clench with astonishment. Even from where they stood, they could see the chaotic aura around the Marshal’s injury receding. They exchanged awed, almost disbelieving looks before turning to Vlad, who remained where he was, arms at his sides and sweat still dotting his brow.

In all their wildest dreams, they had never envisioned that a young man—a Guardian-tier individual—could create runes capable of countering the raw chaos of the Vorometallicae Race. But no matter what they thought they knew, the reality before them was undeniable.

The blackish-red flames burned for about thirty seconds, then gradually died down. The runic lines faded along with them as though they had expended their purpose. A trace of the chaotic energy still lingered in the wound, but it was significantly diminished. More importantly, Marshal Maximo’s formidable natural healing factor seemed more than capable of dealing with what remained on its own.