Beyond the Apocalypse

Chapter 1104: New Lord Tier Demon Soul Masters

Vlad’s eyes were filled with grim excitement as he watched the army of the Six Sun Alliance grow stronger and stronger, the endless carnage nurturing their power.

Yet he did not lower his guard for even a second. The True Depravita of Wrath could feel the gazes of extremely powerful lifeforms fixed upon him, waiting to strike at the slightest display of weakness.

Splitting their forces was a very dangerous move, but it was necessary. Reaching the Ninth Layer of Hell would take a very long time with their current strength.

And even if they succeeded, that did not mean they could truly claim control over Hell. Once they reached the Ninth Layer, Vlad and the White Death would be forced to face Beelzebub and Baal again—this time on their enemies’ home ground, where the Devil Paragons held complete control over the battlefield and could channel a near-endless amount of Origin Power to enhance their strength.

The fact that they had defeated the duo once did not make the True Depravita of Wrath and the White Death arrogant enough to underestimate their opponents. They needed to grow stronger. That was why they had taken this risk.

If everything unfolded according to their plans, they would gain the power needed to shatter the two fiendish planes that had terrorized the universe since time immemorial.

Meanwhile, the main army of the Six Sun Alliance continued its relentless advance. Bloodlines and souls were harvested by the thousands. However, as they approached the Thirty-Fourth Layer, the situation began to change. The oppressive presence of Demon Lords started to emerge.

The Faerathia Emperor Brightkin, the Dvergar King Orkin, and the Obsidian Dragon King Merlin revealed wide, eager smiles as they sensed those monstrous auras appear.

It was finally their chance to capture the souls of Demon Lords and ascend to the rank of Lord-Tier Demon Soul Hunters.

Becoming a Lord-Tier Demon Soul Hunter was vastly different from reaching the Legendary Tier. The souls of Demon Lords were extremely dangerous and saturated with corruption.

True Depravitas did not need to worry about such risks due to the unique composition of their souls and bodies—but beings like Brightkin and the others did. A single mistake could inflict severe spiritual wounds, crippling them for months, or even longer.

That was why they had never pursued this path before confronting the Dream of Madness. At the time, they could not afford the risk; time had been too precious. Now, however, circumstances had changed.

Even if one of the Sovereigns were injured, it would be a heavy blow, but not a fatal one for the Six Sun Alliance. As long as the True Depravita of Wrath and the White Death remained capable of fighting, the alliance itself would remain secure.

The first to clash with a Demon Lord was the Obsidian Dragon King. His opponent was a Demon Lord named Harken, a Dracolich—an undead dragon whose body radiated the chilling aura of death.

Vlad could have easily destroyed Harken himself, but subduing a soul was far easier after its owner had been properly defeated by the one who would seal it. More importantly, it would be wise to conserve every possible fragment of his strength. If something truly dangerous were to appear, he would need every iota of energy he possessed.

The Obsidian Dragon King moved first.

Merlin’s colossal form surged forward through the burning skies of the Thirty-Fourth Layer, his wings tearing apart the sulfurous clouds as he faced the Dracolich Harken.

The undead dragon hovered above a wasteland of blackened bone and ash, its skeletal frame wrapped in strips of decayed flesh and ghostly fire. Empty eye sockets burned with cold emerald light, and every movement shed fragments of death mana that withered the land below.

Harken opened its jaws.

A torrent of necrotic breath poured out—an avalanche of death energy capable of rotting both body and soul.

Merlin did not dodge.

Dark flames erupted from his scales as he pushed forward through the attack, the Obsidian Dragon King’s aura devouring and suppressing the corruption. His claws slammed into Harken’s ribcage, shattering bone and sending fractures racing across the undead frame.

The Dracolich shrieked, its body dissolving into a storm of ghostly fragments before reforming behind the Sovereign, claws slashing toward Merlin’s spine.

But Merlin had expected it.

His tail struck like a falling mountain, smashing Harken out of its reforming state and driving the undead dragon into the ground. The impact shattered the terrain for miles.

Before the Dracolich could recover, Merlin descended.

Dark fire condensed into a massive runic circle beneath Harken’s broken body. Ancient symbols ignited one after another, forming a prison of rotating sigils that bound flesh, soul, and death essence together.

Harken struggled, its form dissolving and reforming wildly—but the formation tightened.

With a final roar, Merlin slammed his claw down.

The Dracolich’s body collapsed into a condensed sphere of writhing green light, which the runic formation sealed completely.

The Obsidian Dragon King exhaled slowly, his eyes shining with satisfaction as the captured Demon Lord’s soul stabilized within the formation.

He had taken his first step toward becoming a Lord-Tier Demon Soul Hunter.

Several layers deeper, darkness itself had taken form.

Brightkin stood within a realm where light struggled to exist. His opponent, the Demon Lord Umbraxis, appeared as a towering humanoid silhouette made entirely of living shadow.

Its body constantly shifted, absorbing light, sound, and even spiritual perception. Blades of condensed darkness erupted from its limbs, striking from impossible angles.

For a moment, the Faerathia Emperor seemed surrounded.

Then he smiled.

Radiance burst from his body.

A domain of pure light expanded outward, turning the battlefield into a miniature sun. Every shadow recoiled violently, smoke-like tendrils burning away as the Law of Light asserted absolute dominance.

Umbraxis howled as its form destabilized, launching a desperate storm of dark lances.

Brightkin raised his sword.

One strike.

A single arc of condensed brilliance cut through the darkness, splitting Umbraxis from shoulder to waist. Light flooded the wound, spreading instantly through its entire body.

The shadow collapsed.

Before it could disperse, a lattice of luminous runes formed around the fading essence, sealing the Demon Lord’s soul inside a sphere of compressed radiance.

Brightkin lowered his blade, calm and composed—though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his excitement.

Deeper still, the battlefield had become a sea of fire.

Rivers of magma flowed across the Fifty-Second Layer, and at their center stood a towering Demon Lord formed entirely from molten stone and living flame. Its name was Gorthak, the Furnace Tyrant. Each step it took caused volcanic eruptions to tear through the landscape.

Before it stood Orkin.

The Dvergar King had already transformed into his colossal stone giant form, lightning coursing across his body like living veins.

Gorthak hurled a tidal wave of magma.

Orkin answered with his hammer.

The weapon struck the molten surge, and thunder exploded outward. Lightning tore through the magma, flash-cooling vast sections into brittle stone that shattered under the shockwave.

The Furnace Tyrant roared and charged, its fists crashing down like meteors.

Orkin met it head-on.

Hammer and molten fists collided again and again, each impact sending earthquakes through the layer. Lightning crawled across Gorthak’s body, destabilizing its structure, turning liquid fire into cracking slag.

With a final roar, Orkin leaped and brought his hammer down upon the Demon Lord’s core.

Thunder detonated.

The molten giant froze from the inside out before collapsing into a mass of cooling rock.

Runes spread above the stone, formed instantly around the exposed core, sealing the blazing soul within a rotating sphere of lightning and granite.

Orkin laughed—a deep, satisfied sound—as the formation stabilized.