Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 676: Core nature (I)

Chapter 676: Core nature (I)

General Tiberius’ eyes narrowed as he spotted the massive Voroe warriors wielding fortress-like shields at the head of the enemy column. He knew exactly what their purpose was—walking walls meant to absorb the brunt of the initial magical barrage.

Their towering bodies and thick plates would render ranged attacks nearly useless, and with the distance between armies shrinking fast, there was little room left to maneuver around them.

Though Tiberius possessed the raw power to shatter that shield formation himself, his attention was elsewhere. High above the battlefield, the Voroe Legends had taken to the skies. Three once again, but one was unfamiliar.

In the last clash, one of the enemy Legends had suffered grievous injuries and was forced to retreat. Now, in their place hovered a monstrous, wingless draconid exuding such a frigid aura that the very air froze in its wake. The sky itself dimmed as frost laced the clouds in its path, and even at this distance, Tiberius could feel the numbing bite of its presence.

Dozens of thoughts raced through his mind as he assessed the battlefield, calculating options and consequences. His eyes flicked over the Voroe formation, then up to the heavens. He weighed the risks, evaluated the moment, and came to a decision. His voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"—Formation A-3!"

At once, the Sages across the Graecia ranks stiffened. Their expressions turned solemn, understanding the gravity of the command.

Formation A-3 was devastatingly powerful, a sequence designed to carve through the enemy in a sweeping arc of destruction. But it was also extremely dangerous and required precise synchronization. Still, none questioned the command. They nodded in silent trust to their commander.

With orders given and every soldier moving into place, General Tiberius and the other two Graecia Legends took to the sky, surging forward across the jagged edges of the Korokor Mountains—alone.

Their expressions were steel. Killing intent radiated from their eyes as they locked onto the Voroe Legends hovering far above. The air thickened, humming with power.

The Voroe Legends answered with the same bloodthirsty gleam, and without a word, both sides launched into the upper sky. There was an unspoken agreement between them: to fight far above the ground.

Neither Graecia nor the Voroe benefited from collateral damage tearing through their own forces. Not to mention that fighting too close to the ground was also risky for them. A single concentrated volley from a hundred Sages could annihilate even a Legend, after all. The sky was their domain, and they would settle it there.

Thunderous explosions echoed from above as divine spells collided. Light and shadow ripped through the atmosphere, shaking the sky. The clouds split, and the very earth trembled beneath the fury of their clash.

Below, the Voroe army continued its relentless advance.

Though their number of Sages had diminished since the last assault, they now brought a far greater force of Guardians—resilient, expendable, and numerous, all of them filled with drugs that shortened their life span but gave them a lot of power.

It didn’t take long before the Voroe battalion was within striking distance of the energy towers of the Korokor Stronghold.

But the Graecia towers remained silent.

The reason was clear. The monstrous shield-bearers leading the charge would absorb even the deadliest barrages. They had to be eliminated first, or the attack would be wasted. This time, the Graecia forces would have to meet the full momentum of the Voroe charge head-on.

With calm hearts and sharpened gazes, the Graecia soldiers marched out of the stronghold. The vanguard, led by Angelo, made their energy flare outward in unison as they locked eyes with the colossi. The battlefield crackled with tension as both armies closed the distance, their energies building with each step.

Ten meters apart.

Angelo clenched his jaw, his body glowing with power. He unleashed every ounce of strength from his energy pool, Totem Path, and physical might, preparing to crash into the towering wall ahead.

Then—a sky-blue force field appeared on the battlefield.

An armored figure appeared above a shield-bearing Voroe. In the next instant, a scream of pure agony ripped through the battlefield.

"AHHHHHHH!"

All eyes turned.

Vlad had teleported above the largest of the shield bearers and brought his massive sword down with unstoppable force, burying it deep into the creature’s skull, straight into the brain. His strike was so violent that cracks split down the creature’s armored body before it even fell.

He did not stop.

Vlad’s heart thundered in his chest, pumping so much energy through his body that he felt his blood vessels on the verge of bursting. He channeled that raw power directly into his eyes, combining it with a surge of Depravita Aura.

"ZNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

Twin beams of condensed wrathful energy burst from his eyes like a laser cannon, slicing through the heads of two more shield-bearing monsters before he rocketed down into the enemy lines. His armor pulsed, revealing the Mark of Cain Runic Set glowing beneath it.

Without giving the Voroe a second to react, Vlad became a whirlwind of destruction. His sword tore through flesh, bone, and armor, blinking from one target to the next.

Though his slashes weren’t always fatal, the Mark of Cain activated with each strike, causing the wounds to fester and expand. The vitality of his enemies was siphoned directly into him, allowing him to push even harder.

Both sides—Graecia and Voroe alike—were momentarily stunned by the ferocity of the Depravita of Wrath.

Graecia soldiers knew that blitzkrieg units operated independently with high autonomy, but Vlad’s move had been extraordinarily reckless. He had flung himself into the very heart of the enemy formation. Many could not understand why he would risk himself so boldly.

But Jormungandr, the small yellow cat watching quietly, understood completely.

For Vlad to become a True Depravita, he had to align his being with the core nature of his Sin. In his case—Wrath. An all-consuming fury that did not wait, did not hesitate and did not bend. Without mastering that core essence, even all the power in the world would never allow him to ascend.

And yet, while his actions were dangerous, they presented a massive tactical opportunity.

"NOW!" Angelo shouted with full force.

The vanguard didn’t hesitate. Using Vlad’s chaos as cover, they surged forward. They veered to the flanks of the shield bearers, slicing them down while their focus was shattered, clearing a direct path into the Voroe formation.