Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 764: The end of the Tournament of Destiny

Chapter 764: The end of the Tournament of Destiny

All the Vikings in the stands couldn’t help but stare at Freya in awe and shock. A collective, stunned silence swept through the crowd as they witnessed the overwhelming power radiating from her body. Somehow, against all odds, she had managed to recover from her wounds—standing tall, exuding an aura that rivaled even the enhanced Lucius.

Unlike the average Vikings, the super powerhouses in the podiums were sharp and perceptive enough to grasp the core of Freya’s sudden transformation. They understood what fueled her resurgence. The source of her strength was unmistakable: the strange core embedded in her chest.

But they also knew the truth—this power came at a terrible price.

That core, while granting her unimaginable might, was a double-edged sword. To unleash such devastating strength, Freya was burning her own life force at an outrageous rate. Based on their calculations, she had—at most—a few minutes left to live.

Freya knew this, of course. She had always known the immense price she would have to pay to trigger the core, and that even victory would mean death. But when it came to fighting for control over her destiny, even her own life was not too high a price to pay.

Her voice rang out across the arena, filled with monstrous will and unyielding resolve.

"Let’s end this battle!"

A ferocious demonic blood aura erupted from her body, blasting in all directions as she surged forward like a bloody comet.

Lucius’s eyes widened, his mind reeling from the sheer speed and power Freya now commanded. But there was no time to dwell on the shock—his instincts kicked in, and he moved to meet her charge, raising his rusty sword with grim determination.

"No matter what," Lucius thought, "I must win this battle—to prove the weakness of that decrepit god—and the might of our Lord!"

That thought burned in his heart, fueling a sharpened resolve as fierce as Freya’s own.

Lucius’s sword slashed toward Freya’s face, a blur of dark energy and deadly force. But at the last possible moment, she twisted her body, dodging the blade by the width of a hair. Without losing a fraction of her momentum, she clenched her fist, charged with blood energy, and drove it straight into Lucius’s chest—right into the burn mark left from her earlier attack.

"BOOOOM!"

A concussive burst echoed through the arena as her fist landed. Lucius’s eyes widened in shock as he felt his ribs crack, the force of the blow nearly shattering him.

Freya’s punch carried even more weight and power than her demonic mace had before, imbued with a strange, corrupting energy that seeped into Lucius’ bloodstream, draining his vitality from within.

Lucius gritted his teeth, ignoring the agony coursing through his body, and countered with a vicious headbutt.

"BOOM!"

The impact exploded like a thunderclap, but to his horror, Freya stood firm.

Blood trickled from her forehead, but beneath her cracked mask, she smiled—a wide, feral grin that sent a chill down Lucius’s spine.

Before he could react, Freya twisted her hips, driving her knee into his chest with devastating force, once again targeting the burn mark.

"BOOOOMMMM!"

The blow lifted Lucius off the ground, sending him airborne.

Freya didn’t let the opportunity pass. Spinning in mid-air, she unleashed a brutal kick to Lucius’ face, sending him crashing across the ground like a ragdoll, tumbling through the dirt, blood spraying from his mouth.

Awe and admiration filled the eyes of every Viking in the stands as they witnessed the might of the Viking Princess. But their cheers turned to alarm as they saw Lucius’s rusty sword begin to radiate with an ominous, pulsing energy.

"ZNNNNNNN!"

A burst of dark force erupted from the sword, surging into Lucius’s totems and amplifying his power to terrifying heights.

Lucius rose from the ground, his eyes blazing with a brutal, cold light. The air around him twisted, his presence oppressive as a looming storm. Without hesitation, he launched himself back into the fray, swinging his sword with even more ferocity than before.

Freya’s eyes narrowed. She could feel it now, more clearly than ever—the alien, unnatural power flowing through Lucius’s totems. It was not the blessing of Odinvaldr. This power did not belong to the god of the Viking race.

But this wasn’t the time for questions or investigations.

There was only one thought left in her mind: Kill him.

Without hesitation, she charged forward, meeting Lucius head-on.

His sword slashed toward her, releasing a torrent of dark flames, but Freya barreled through them. Her body burned, scorch marks tearing across her skin, but the determination in her eyes never dimmed.

With a single strike, she deflected the sword aside, driving her right fist once more into the wound on Lucius’s chest.

Lucius gasped, blood spraying from his mouth.

But he refused to fall. Fueled by the dark power of his sword, he gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain, and drove the blade toward Freya’s neck in a lethal arc.

Freya saw the attack coming but didn’t retreat. She raised her left arm, using it as a shield.

"ZNNNN!"

A thunderous crack echoed as Lucius’s sword severed Freya’s arm cleanly at the elbow, blood spraying into the air.

But the blade stopped there.

Freya’s remaining hand had pierced Lucius’s chest—fingers digging into flesh, crushing ribs—until she gripped his heart in her fist.

Her voice rang out, soft yet filled with finality.

"Only I decide my destiny."

With a fierce twist, she crushed Lucius’s heart to a bloody pulp.

Lucius’s entire body trembled, and a mouthful of blood spilled from his lips as the light faded from his eyes. His grip on the rusty sword loosened, the weapon clattering to the ground as his lifeless body slumped in defeat.

The only one left standing was Freya.

She was battered, bloodied, her left arm severed—but she stood tall. She stood strong.

And she stood victorious.

"FREYA!" "FREYA!" "FREYA!" "FREYA!" "FREYA!" "FREYA!" "FREYA!" "FREYA!" "FREYA!"

Silence reigned for a moment only for the entire arena to burst into chanting the next second.