Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 776: The plight of Valhalla

Chapter 776: The plight of Valhalla

There was a tense silence as Vlad turned his gaze to the Empress. He had accepted the invitation out of respect for the Vikings and their culture, not out of allegiance or admiration for their leader. In truth, he had no desire to speak with the woman, and if she had summoned him to request his help, she would be sorely disappointed. She had not moved to protect Freya when it mattered most—so why should he lift a finger for her now?

The Empress could clearly feel the intent behind the True Depravita of Wrath’s eyes. She exhaled quietly, her voice finally breaking the silence.

"Allow me to make clear the current state of Valhalla."

The atmosphere shifted. Freya and the other Depravitas narrowed their eyes, alert to the weight of her words. Valhalla was a realm built on honor, pride, and martial virtue. The very notion that something as corrupt and farcical as the Tournament of Destiny had occurred within its walls was baffling. How had it happened? How had such mockery of their values been allowed to take root?

The answer came swiftly.

"Everything began to change after Antorus, Lord of War, returned from his expedition into the Emptiness."

The room darkened, as if the very mention of that place invoked cosmic dread. Even Jormungandr, the most curious of the True Depravitas, stiffened.

The Known Universe was divided into two primary domains: The Light and The Darkness—each encompassing trillions of civilizations. Though they often stood in opposition, both sides followed natural laws and frameworks. Even the wildest lands within The Darkness were still ruled by a form of order.

But the Emptiness? That was something entirely different.

The Emptiness was not part of the Known Universe. It was a vast, uncharted dimension devoid of stability, logic, or pattern. The structure of its laws was so chaotic that even time and space could twist into nonsense. Those who entered the Emptiness risked madness or worse. Many who emerged were no longer themselves—if they emerged at all.

Still, the Emptiness was a place of wonders. Treasures, laws, and energies unknown to either Light or Darkness could be found within. And if one was mad or bold enough to assimilate its alien laws, their power could soar across realms. But the cost? More often than not, death—or worse: monstrous transformation.

The Empress’s voice softened, tinged with sorrow.

"Before his journey into the Emptiness, Antorus was a model Viking. He was noble, just, and a warrior in whom I saw the potential to one day wear the crown of Valhalla. But when he returned, he began to change."

Her eyes dropped slightly, shadowed with pain.

"At first, it was subtle. A word here, a hesitation there. But over time, I began to see... that it wasn’t truly Antorus who had returned. Or rather, something else came back with him. Something... watching, whispering, feeding on his ambition. His actions have been corroding our society from within and pushing us further away from our god, Odinvaldr."

The gravity of the situation sank into the minds of the listeners. No one needed to say it aloud—Antorus had encountered something in the Emptiness. Something that had twisted his mind or even merged with his soul.

Freya clenched her fists. Vlad’s eyes darkened with concern, but he remained silent.

"I am stronger than Antorus," the Empress continued, "but I am also very, very old. A battle at my full power would exhaust what remains of my life. If I were to die... Valhalla would be left defenseless."

For a moment, her voice faltered with vulnerability.

"There are only two Lords here. That’s all we’ve ever needed to stand tall as a High Civilization. But if we lose both... then we become a feast for the beasts of the Darkness, or pawns for the schemers in the Light. Valhalla cannot afford such a gamble."

While her words could have been dismissed as excuses, Vlad did not take them that way. He nodded slightly, his expression finally softening.

He understood all too well.

A war between the two Lords could devastate the realm. Even if she won, Valhalla would be left exposed, bleeding in the cosmic ocean—ripe for conquest.

The Empress gave the Depravitas a moment to absorb her explanation before turning to Vlad directly.

"I will not ask you to involve yourself in this struggle. I only wish for you to understand the weight I carry... and the price of acting on pure instinct. I am not just one life, Vlad. I am the lives of trillions. A single mistake could doom them all."

The True Depravita of Wrath stared at her for several long seconds. Then, he slowly inclined his head in a gesture of reluctant respect.

"I understand your plight. I don’t agree with your choices—but I won’t pretend to know if I would have acted differently in your place."

A faint smile touched the Empress’s lips. There was no triumph in it—only acceptance.

Then her gaze turned toward Freya.

"My child," she said gently, "would you be so kind as to show me the sword you took from Lucius?"

Freya hesitated for only a second before reaching into her space ring and retrieving the rusty weapon. When she had slain Lucius, the sword had fallen at her feet, unnoticed by others in the chaos of battle. Something about it had felt... off. Ancient, powerful, but alien.

She handed it to the Empress.

As the older woman held it in her hands, her expression grew grave.

"This is it..." she murmured. "This is the same alien power that corrupted Octavio’s Totems. The same force that allowed him to transform into that abomination."

The air in the longhouse turned cold.

Freya stared at the weapon in disbelief. Vlad’s expression darkened.

"You mean this sword is tied to whatever Antorus found in the Emptiness?"

The Empress nodded solemnly.

"I fear this blade may be a fragment—or a vessel—of that power. And if it has already begun to infect our champions..." she paused, eyes sharpening, "then our time is shorter than I thought."