Beyond the Apocalypse-Chapter 1064: Devil Paragon

Not far from the ruined lake, Vlad stood within a domain of ash so dense that visibility extended only a few meters at most. The air was heavy, suffocating, and laced with infernal residue.

Red and blue flashes of light streaked toward him relentlessly, each attack carrying immense destructive power. Yet the True Depravita of Wrath did not retreat even a single step. His grip on the Quietus Sword was steady, and with flawless precision, he blocked every strike, the blade humming softly as it erased the attacks on contact.

Despite the ferocity of the assault, Vlad remained calm.

His focus was not even fully on his enemies. Part of his attention was directed toward the battlefield below, and a faint smile curved his lips as he watched the forces of the Graecia Empire advance. Even with the ash obscuring their vision, their formations remained perfect. Their movements were precise, disciplined, and merciless as they cut down every Devil in their path.

The red and blue flashes surged again—this time from both the front and the back simultaneously. Two Devil Lords attacked in perfect coordination, aiming to sever Vlad’s body in a single, decisive strike.

Before either attack could land, Vlad vanished.

In the next instant, the two Devil Lords’ guardian bodies fell from the sky. Their flesh and blood turned grey midair, frozen in absolute stillness as they struck the ground.

The Devil Lords were not weak—far from it. Each one was a terrifying existence, honed by centuries of slaughter and survival in Hell. Their strength lay not in brute force alone, but in their speed. They moved like living calamities, tearing through space with movements faster than most eyes could track.

Unfortunately for them, their speed was not enough against the True Depravita of Wrath.

Thanks to the True Depravita of Greed, Vlad’s velocity had reached a realm where even Devil Lords struggled to keep up. Combined with his mastery over space and gravity, he could dictate the battlefield entirely. In the instant the two Devil Lords attempted their twin attack, Vlad twisted the surrounding spatial fabric, compressing gravity into a crushing bind that froze their bodies for a fraction of a second.

That fraction was enough.

In the same heartbeat, Vlad struck.

The Quietus Sword flashed twice, piercing both Devils directly through their hearts. Grey energy surged outward, paralyzing their bodies and souls. They never had the chance to scream.

Vlad collected their immobilized forms and stored them away, then took a deep breath as his attention shifted to the battlefield below. Thousands of Devils were still locked in brutal combat against the forces of the Graecia Empire.

His eyes sharpened.

He raised the Quietus Sword—and drove it into the fabric of space itself.

The world screamed.

In the next second, every Superior Legendary Devil on the battlefield howled in agony as identical black swords manifested directly inside their chests. The blades severed their hearts, shattered their cores, and erased their will in an instant, collapsing like puppets with their strings cut.

With their leaders gone, the remaining Devils stood no chance.

The forces of the Graecia Empire surged forward, overwhelming the enemy in mere minutes. Vlad did not wait. He lifted his hand, forming a small, dark orb that radiated an immense gravitational pull—one attuned specifically to infernal essence.

Blood, flesh, and corpses tore free from the ground, spiraling upward into the orb. Not a single drop of Devil remains was left behind.

While this occurred, Vlad brought Marshal Maximo to the Infernal Monolith. The general branded it with his soul, establishing complete control over the Origin Power of the sector, as well as the fortress and its surrounding domain. With the stronghold secured and the battlefield cleansed, Vlad cast a rain of healing energy over his warriors before marching onward.

The war did not slow down.

For the next three months, the Six Sun Alliance advanced at a terrifying pace. Devil Lords were hunted down and killed or captured. Infernal legions were butchered. Domains fell one after another, and Infernal Monoliths were seized and secured by branded commanders.

It was a conquest of unprecedented speed.

Even more shocking was the casualty count.

After three months of nonstop warfare, total losses remained below two percent.

That alone spoke volumes about the terrifying strength and discipline of the Alliance. After all, these were the same forces that had once annihilated the Vorometallicae Race.

But no conquest goes unanswered forever.

By the time the Alliance had claimed nearly ten percent of the First Layer of Hell, their actions had enraged every Devil Lord across the realm. The outrage spread downward, deeper, until it reached the Ninth Layer.

And then... something stirred.

The White Death remained within the central fortress—the anchor of the entire expansion. His eyes were closed as he cultivated in silence, refining his power to its absolute peak.

Then—

His eyes snapped open.

The First Layer of Hell trembled violently. The sky fractured as massive explosions erupted across the horizon. Reality itself groaned as an incredibly powerful entity was approaching.

The White Death vanished in an instant, appearing in the sky. His soul expanded outward, piercing through the layers of Hell until it locked onto a rising presence of unimaginable weight.

White flames ignited in his eyes as he clenched his fist, his power surging higher and higher.

Then the ground beneath him exploded.

From the shattered earth emerged a nightmare.

The Devil possessed a massive, muscular torso plated with pale, bone-like armor. Dark, sinewy flesh moved beneath the plates like living shadow. Multiple wing-like appendages spread from its back and sides, tearing through the air. Atop its body rested a skull-shaped head—smooth, eyeless, and utterly inhuman.

The Paragon stared directly at the White Death.

A suffocating killing intent poured from its soul.

"I am Beelzebub, Lord of the Ninth Layer of Hell," the Devil thundered. "How does a human dare seize our domains? Are you too blind to recognize our supremacy?"

Each word carried pressure capable of crushing mountains.

Yet the White Death did not flinch.

"I am Alexandro, Ruler of the Graecia Empire," he replied calmly. "And the only thing I see... is a corpse."

For a fraction of a second, Beelzebub froze—stunned that a human dared speak to him that way.

Then his power exploded.

Reality shrieked as space warped violently. The White Death raised his guard, focusing entirely on the Devil Paragon—

—and his eyes widened.

A blow struck straight toward his head.

Using every ounce of martial skill he possessed, Alexandro raised his left arm just in time. The impact slammed into him with catastrophic force, sending him flying across the sky.

He stabilized almost instantly, white flames roaring around his body.

A deep frown formed on his face.

"How...?" he muttered. "I never took my eyes off him. How did he strike me?"

Beelzebub tilted his skull-like head slightly.

"I wanted to kill you with that blow," the Devil said. "You are strong. But you will still end like every other ant that defies Hell’s rules."

Suddenly, Beelzebub stood directly in front of Alexandro—

even though his previous form was still visible in the distance.

The White Death blocked the incoming punch, bracing himself with all his strength. Yet as he prepared to counterattack, his instincts screamed.

A second blow was aimed at the back of his head.

He could feel the Devil’s fist against his arm—could see him in front—

So how could he be attacking from behind as well?

"Clones?"

That was the most rational explanation, yet the White Death instinctively rejected it. The power signatures did not overlap, nor did they weaken when multiple forms appeared. Each incarnation radiated the same oppressive authority, the same overwhelming weight of existence.

But there was no time to analyze further.

Sensing imminent danger, the White Death twisted his body violently, narrowly dodging the blow aimed at the back of his head. In the same fluid motion, he spun through the air and delivered a ferocious kick straight into the Devil Paragon’s chest.

White flames erupted on impact, detonating with devastating force. Beelzebub’s massive form was sent crashing into the ground below, the earth buckling and splitting apart as the impact reverberated across the First Layer of Hell.

A wide smile spread across the White Death’s face as he felt bones crack and infernal flesh burn beneath his strike.

Then his instincts screamed again.

Before he could savor the moment, another Beelzebub manifested directly beneath him, emerging from warped space itself. An ascending kick tore upward, faster than light. The White Death was not fast enough to react.

The blow landed squarely against his jaw.

Pain exploded through his skull as he was sent tumbling through the air, his vision blurring, his brain rattling violently within his head. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he struggled to regain control.

The assault did not stop.

In the very next heartbeat, yet another Beelzebub appeared above him. Without hesitation, the Devil Paragon drove a descending kick downward, its force carrying the weight of an entire layer of Hell. The strike smashed into the White Death’s chest, crushing the air from his lungs and forcing a mouthful of blood from his throat.