Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 771: Half-Lord Tier

Chapter 771: Half-Lord Tier

What emerged from the fusion of the four Depravitas left the world breathless.

The very air froze with awe. Silence swept through the battlefield like a divine decree. Even the Lords, beings of immense power and transcendent wisdom, stood stunned.

From the merging of Wrath, Gluttony, Greed, and Envy... a new form had taken shape.

Vlad was reborn—no longer just a man, not merely a warrior—but a celestial avatar of destruction, forged from fury, obsession, and desire, bound in divine fire and elemental force.

His body had grown smaller, more compact—yet every cell had been compressed, refined to an absurd degree, creating a frame of immense density and strength. He no longer needed mass to display might. His power was now concentrated to the point of being weaponized in every movement.

His silver-white hair flowed like a storm, wild and charged with latent energy, crowned by two sharp golden horns that curved back like the blades of fate. His face, regal and fierce, held the glow of ancient lineage. Five glowing eyes radiated raw intensity—each one pulsing with an aspect of total domination: the power to devour, assimilate, consume, transform, and destroy.

His muscular form was etched with veins of crackling lightning, glowing like molten gold beneath obsidian skin. From his back, towering dragon wings unfurled—white as divine light, yet edged with infernal fire, composed of pure celestial and elemental energy.

A scaled tail lashed behind him, coiled with restrained violence.

His entire body was sheathed in a gleaming exoskeleton of black and gold, runes etched into the armor pulsing like a heartbeat. The runes told of death, rebirth, hunger, and divine wrath. One arm blazed with eternal flame, the other shrouded in a living storm. Every movement distorted the space around him, as if reality itself bowed in submission.

Surrounded by swirling chaos and divine light, he stood in the sky like a living tempest—a myth made manifest, a war god reborn from madness and spirit.

Earl Octavio, who only moments ago had roared with ecstasy and triumph, now faltered.

A terrible, primal fear took root in his soul.

His joy curdled into dread.

The same evolved instincts that had elevated his body and soul screamed at him now—run. Flee. Escape. The entity before him was not something he could face. His corrupted body wanted to collapse before that crushing spiritual presence.

But there was no escape.

The dark force that had enhanced him—the unholy power that made him monstrous—would destroy him from the inside if he fled. He was shackled to the battlefield.

Choking back his terror, Octavio forced the cocktail of wicked emotions boiling inside him—rage, hate, cruelty—to silence the fear.

He clenched his fists and shouted toward the heavens.

"Hmph! Do you think—"

He never finished.

Vlad appeared in front of him instantly—not with teleportation, but with raw speed, so unfathomably fast it bent space.

Octavio’s eyes widened.

"How can a body move that fast...?"

This wasn’t magic.

It wasn’t a technique.

It was pure, overwhelming power.

Before the Viking Earl could react, Vlad’s sword moved—a blur of destruction laced with lightning, space, fire, and kinetic force. The blade cleaved downward.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

The land below split open. NovelFire

The air ignited.

The earth shattered.

The slash exploded against Octavio, sending the monstrous Viking hurtling into the sky, spinning like a meteor. His scream echoed across the land as he fought to stay conscious.

High in the air, he stopped himself, teeth clenched, forcing his massive body to obey. Blood streamed from his mouth. He dropped into a battle stance.

Then he saw it.

A massive gash across his chest, deep and ragged, blood pouring freely. Before, Vlad’s sword had barely pierced his flesh. Now it had torn through skin, sinew, and muscle—nearly to the bone.

"Damn it!" he roared.

His corrupted energy surged, responding to his anger, amplifying his strength.

But at the same time... something else diminished.

The light in his eyes—the sharpness, the self-awareness—it was weakening.

His mind was unraveling.

But Octavio didn’t care. He twisted sideways as Vlad reappeared, reacting purely on instinct. His fist lashed out, trying to intercept the celestial warrior. Vlad, however, met the attack head-on. NovelFire

His sword swung forward—unstoppable.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!!!

A collision of godlike force. Fist and blade clashed in a storm of fire and pressure.

For a split second, their strength seemed equal.

Then Vlad’s arms bulged.

Power surged.

And the balance shattered.

Octavio was sent flying again, spinning across the battlefield, crashing through the air like a broken comet.

"ARGHHHHH!" the corrupted Viking howled, his body glowing with unstable energy as he recovered and charged again, refusing to give in. His speed increased. His strength climbed.

But so did the madness in his eyes.

Vlad noticed.

He didn’t care.

He had no time to worry about his enemy’s failing sanity. Inside his own body, three foreign souls swirled within his core. Even now, his spirit trembled under the pressure of keeping them bound, unified, and aligned with his own will.

If he hesitated—if he lost control—they could tear him apart from the inside.

He had to end this.

Now.

With a roar that split the air, Vlad surged forward. Lightning and fire enveloped his sword, alive and snarling like beasts. His exoskeleton pulsed with power, each step warping the ground, his strikes too fast to follow with mortal eyes.

The two titans met again in a clash of destruction.

Each blow released a symphony of explosions and shockwaves. The sky cracked. The land trembled. The oceans stirred.

From afar, the Superior Legends watched, unable to conceal their awe.

Even they—beings of near-divine status—could not reach this level. It was not merely a clash of strength. It was the duel of entities who stood beyond mortal understanding.

The Empress of Valhalla narrowed her eyes, her calm demeanor shaken.

The middle-aged Lord clenched his jaw. Even he, who stood just below the Lords, felt a shiver run down his spine.

There was only one name for what they were witnessing:

Half-Lord Tier.

The space between Legends and Lords.

And of the two combatants, it was clear who had the advantage.

Vlad.

While Octavio’s power continued to rise, his mind was unraveling. He was sacrificing clarity for strength, burning his own soul for dominance.

But Vlad... remained whole.

His mind, sharp as ever.

His will, unshaken.

His fusion of the Depravitas—impossibly—was stable.

He had tamed wrath, greed, envy, and obsession without losing himself.