Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 769: Trasformation

Chapter 769: Trasformation

Vlad felt his mind teetering on the edge of collapse, strained under the immense pressure of the ongoing fusion of souls. The overwhelming force that came with harmonizing such powerful essences would have broken the soul of an ordinary Legend, but his enhanced talent and pure soul force allowed him to endure.

Thanks to the grueling months of cultivation and the sacred treasures that had nurtured his energy pool and fortified his spirit, he could handle the stress with greater ease than when he faced the Superior Angel.

Taking a long, steady breath, his wounds began to close. Flesh mended. Bones realigned. The tears in his muscles and skin vanished, knitted together by the vast reservoir of energy within him. His healing wasn’t natural—it was fueled by his Depravita Star and amazing psychic power.

With his sword clenched tight, lightning storming through its core, Vlad surged forward once more, a streak of fury and will cutting through the sky.

Earl Octavio’s eyes widened in disbelief at the sudden regeneration of the True Depravita. But there was no time to dwell on it. In response, he summoned more power, letting his energy explode outward in a storm of platinum light, even greater than before. He wouldn’t allow himself to be caught off guard again.

The battlefield became a cyclone of violence.

They clashed—again and again—with ever-escalating intensity. Each collision shook the sky. The air cracked and howled, space rippled and groaned. Their weapons struck with such force that shockwaves blasted craters into the earth and sent gales tearing through the clouds.

"BOOM!"

A slash from Vlad carved through space itself, a crescent of lightning and void racing toward Octavio. The Viking Legend spun his spear with masterful precision and deflected the strike, though not without effort. Still, another blow followed, and then another. Cuts opened on both of them as their fight turned savage, primal.

But there was a difference—a devastating one.

While Vlad’s injuries healed almost instantly, his body absorbing damage like the earth absorbs rain, Octavio’s wounds did not. They worsened. The energy Vlad left behind in each slash—laced with runic essence—infected the wounds like a curse, eating away at muscle, ripping veins, and tearing at sinew.

Blood poured from the Earl, even as he tried to push through.

From a distance, the Superior Legends watched in stunned silence, their expressions torn between awe and amazement.

And they weren’t the only ones.

Millions of Vikings had left the arena, drawn to the battlefield by the unimaginable energy tearing across the land. Among them stood Freya, her eyes fixed on the sky, wide with awe and trembling with admiration—and something more. Standing beside her were Fafnir and Ouroboros, both silent, their powerful senses locked in the battle raging above.

The Princess of Valhalla could barely breathe as she gazed at the man she had chosen to love.

Her heart thundered in rhythm with every clash, every swing of his blade.

The fight had reached its peak. Vlad and Octavio now hovered high in the sky, their energies lighting up the atmosphere, turning it into a canvas of destruction and power.

And then—it happened.

"PSHHHH!"

A sharp, piercing sound echoed through the heavens, followed by an explosion of platinum light.

Gasps filled the crowd as they saw it—Octavio’s spear had pierced straight through Vlad’s chest, right through the heart.

Even the Lords narrowed their eyes.

From the looks of it, the battle was over. Vlad had been defeated.

A somber hush fell over the battlefield. Though technically a member of their home had triumphed, none of the Vikings felt like celebrating. _{fr.eew eb novel..com}

But then—something impossible occurred.

Despite the gaping wound in his chest, despite his heart likely destroyed, Vlad smiled.

He grabbed Octavio’s arm and held it in place. Then, with deliberate calm, he raised his sword.

Octavio’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"What...?"

Before the Earl could pull back, Vlad brought the blade down with a roar. The slash cut through armor, flesh, and bone, sundering Octavio’s chest. A spatial shockwave followed the strike, sending the Viking Legend hurtling toward the ground like a falling meteorite.

"CRAAAASH!"

He slammed into the earth with bone-shattering force, leaving a massive crater.

Silence ruled the world.

The crowd stared upward.

Vlad remained in the sky, standing upright, despite the massive hole in his chest—a hole that was already closing.

The Lords themselves widened their eyes.

Even among their kind—beings whose strength defied comprehension—such regeneration was unthinkable. It wasn’t just miraculous; it was absurd.

When had anyone ever heard of a man surviving the destruction of his heart, delivering a final blow, and then healing within seconds?

They looked again at Vlad—still glowing, still proud.

Then their eyes shifted to the crater.

Octavio was on the ground, coughing, his chest cleaved open. His lungs were half-destroyed. The slash had damaged almost every organ in his torso. He struggled to breathe, barely conscious.

It was clear who had won.

"THUMP!"

Or so everyone thought—until they heard it.

A thunderous heartbeat echoed from within the crater.

Heads turned. Freya gasped. The Lords’ eyes narrowed.

But the heartbeat wasn’t coming from Octavio’s chest—it was coming from his totems.

The next moment, a strange, eerie power surged out of those totems—the same alien energy that had once enhanced Lucius’ body. And under the horrified gazes of the crowd, Octavio’s wounds began to heal.

But it didn’t stop there.

His eyes turned black, filled with swirling shadows. His body grew—larger, more muscular—his youth restored, his presence twisted. The tattoos covering his flesh glowed and extended, forming dark metallic patterns across his entire body.

Within seconds, the man looked more demonic than human.

Far away, the elderly woman with the regal aura frowned deeply. She could sense it clearly—this power didn’t belong to the Ondinvaldr. Something else, something foreign, had taken root.

She was about to act—until she felt eyes on her.

The middle-aged Lord was watching her, his expression cold.

"I hope you’re not thinking of interfering, my lady," he said calmly. "It would be dishonorable for the Empress of Valhalla to intervene in a fair duel. If you do... I will stop you. For the honor of our race."

Her eyes blazed with fury.

The hypocrisy was staggering. The corruption flooding Octavio was undeniable. But she said nothing. Though livid, she remained still, her hands clenched, her jaw tight.

The transformation of Octavio was complete in two seconds.

Now encased in dark metallic flesh, his entire body glowed with a sinister aura. He no longer looked like a proud Viking warrior—he looked like a monster.