Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 682: Space vs Space (II)

Chapter 682: Space vs Space (II)

The name of the Voroe Half-Step Legend radiating the Law of Space was Shitaru, and his presence on the Korokor Mountain battlefield was no coincidence. Out of all the ongoing clashes between the Golden Sky Fortress and the Void Heart Stronghold, he had been assigned specifically here for one reason.

A predatory light burned in Shitaru’s eyes as he faced the Depravita of Wrath. His entire aura radiated cold, unyielding purpose, as though he had been forged in a crucible of violence for this singular task.

Vlad, sensing the lethal intent rolling off his foe, let out a low exhale. "So they want me dead that badly," he murmured, a rueful smile curving his lips.

It was obvious that Shitaru’s sole mission was to intercept his onslaught and end him. Yet that knowledge didn’t rattle Vlad; if anything, it sharpened his focus. With a soft snort, he released the last lingering distractions from his mind, letting his wrathful energy flare around him.

He quickly assessed Shitaru’s capabilities.

"His body strength significantly surpasses my own and he wields the Expansion and Compression Domain to an extremely high degree, drastically increasing his weapon’s density and force." Vlad’s eyes glowed with calmness as he perceived that but soon they narrowed with insights and wisdom. " Fortunately he seemed less adept at short-range teleportation, leaving me a window of perception to react."

At the same time, Shitaru studied the Depravita. In the space of a breath, both came to the same conclusion: they had to strike immediately and strike hard.

Energy erupted around them like a thunderclap. Neither bothered with dialogue or taunts. They simply lunged forward, each moving faster than the untrained eye could follow.

The air cracked under the force of their momentum; stones and debris rattled across the ground as they closed the distance in the span of a heartbeat.

For a giant burdened by bulging muscles and heavy armor, Shitaru was surprisingly nimble. He swung his massive spiked club—weighing dozens of tons—as though it were a simple baton. A single blow from that weapon could pulverize boulders, let alone a human body.

Vlad refused a direct clash. He knew that meeting the spiked club head-on would be suicidal. Instead—

"ZNNNNNN!"

He vanished, reappearing a meter above Shitaru, sword raised high in a lethal downward slash aimed at cleaving the Voroe’s skull in two. A fleeting spark of triumph glittered in Vlad’s eyes... then he felt it.

An invisible force cocooning Shitaru, thick as mercury, resisting his blade’s approach. Space itself had been compressed around the Voroe’s form.

Grimacing, Vlad channeled the power of his Sundering Domain, forcing his sword to sever the intangible layers of compressed space. He managed to slice partway through—only to see Shitaru blink back a short distance, the effect of his own rudimentary teleportation, and the club swung upward in a violent counter.

Vlad teleported once more, evading the spike-laden mass by mere centimeters. He reemerged at the Voroe’s flank, slashing fiercely. Sparks arced as Shitaru twisted his torso and intercepted the blow on a patch of compressed spatial armor.

Vlad’s strike bit partway in but didn’t penetrate fully. The Depravita scowled, blinking away again before a retaliatory punch could smash his ribs.

All around them, the battle raged. Lesser Voroe and Graecia soldiers fought tooth and nail. The entire field was stained red by the carnage of thousands, yet these two powerhouses carved their own domain of destruction, teleporting across the battlefield in a dizzying dance of lethal force.

Thunderous booms marked each near collision; swirling eddies of spatial distortion marred the air like fractures in reality.

The longer they fought, the tighter the tension coiled. Each time Vlad tried to cleave into Shitaru’s defenses, that distorted, condensed space delayed his sword just enough for the Voroe to evade or block. Each time Shitaru attempted to crush Vlad, the Depravita blinked aside, leaving him swinging at empty air.

At last, Vlad saw an opening.

He shifted position mid-teleport, appearing just behind Shitaru’s left hip. The Voroe was in the midst of winding up an overhead swing, and for a split second, his flank was exposed. Vlad slashed diagonally from waist to thigh, tearing a deep gash through armored flesh.

"ZNNNNN!"

A satisfied grin split Vlad’s face as he felt the Mark of Cain activate, causing the wound to expand, black energy searing the edges. Though not a killing blow, it was a start—Shitaru bled freely, and the Depravita siphoned a fraction of his vitality.

But the Voroe half-step Legend countered instantly. Even before Vlad’s sword fully retracted, Shitaru twisted his waist and slammed the spiked club sideways.

Vlad narrowly jerked his torso back, managing to dodge the full brunt of the blow, but the vicious spikes raked across his armor, setting it screeching like nails on steel. Heat flared along Vlad’s chest, and for an instant, his vision blurred.

He hissed in pain, but the surge of adrenaline only fed his wrath.

The two engaged once more. Shitaru charged relentlessly, swinging his massive club in wide arcs. Each blow generated kinetic booms, cracking the ground and leaving shallow craters in its wake.

Vlad slipped into a near-constant pattern of quick teleports, short-range side steps, and partial blocks. He was fast—very fast—but Shitaru was no slow brute; each missed swing led into the next seamlessly, pressuring Vlad from every angle.

Twice, Vlad misjudged Shitaru’s aim and was forced to block directly with his sword. The first impact reverberated painfully down Vlad’s arms, nearly buckling his knees. The second slammed him backward, ripping a long gash in his left shoulder where the spikes grazed him.

Blood trickled from the wound, but Vlad pressed on.

He responded with cunning. Each time Shitaru committed to a swing, Vlad drew him into overextension, blinking just enough to strike at the Voroe’s ribs or arms. He inflicted more shallow cuts, each one slowly sapping Shitaru’s stamina.

The Mark of Cain drained bits of life with each successful laceration, fueling Vlad’s own reserves and speeding up his healing factor. It wasn’t an overwhelming advantage—but it was enough to keep him in the fight.

The ground around them had been pounded into a crater-riddled wasteland. Bodies of lesser Voroe lay scattered, some flattened by the shockwaves of the duel.