A wide smile spread across Vlad’s face as he received the reports of success from the other True Depravita across the battlefronts. Each victory was another step toward the great war’s inevitable conclusion.
The news from Freya, in particular, made his grin widen. Another Voroe Lord had fallen, and every one of those monsters destroyed would make their invasion of the Chaovoratities Plane far more manageable.
He also opened a channel with the Land of the Three Calamities, and the report that ca through was equally satisfying. Their forces had triumphed with flawless precision, crippling the Voroe Lord. It was a display of the mythical might of Altharion.
Vlad wasted no ti in celebration. Once he confird that all the allied forces were ready, he gave the final signal. Across the world, armies stirred.
Thousands of soldiers filled the stronghold of the Faerathia Empire, standing in neat, disciplined ranks. Each one bore the mark of battle, a mixture of hardened expression, scarred armor, and the faint, flickering light of Demon Souls sealed within their hearts.
Those souls granted them a form of unnatural endurance, almost like possessing a second life. The fortress itself trembled under the weight of so much power gathered in one place, and yet, even among these seasoned warriors, tension was palpable.
They all knew what they were about to attempt, sothing that no living being in recorded history had ever done. They were going to assault the ho of the Vorotallicae Race, one of the oldest and most dangerous civilizations in the universe.
The Vorotallicae were not the strongest race by sheer destructive potential, but they were unified. Unlike demons or devils, who often turned on each other, the Vorotallicae acted as a single will, disciplined, relentless, and cunning. To face them on their ho plane was to challenge the heart of a godlike empire.
Fear and unease rippled through the ranks, yet none faltered. Their courage did not co from glory or revenge. They were not fighting for power, but for freedom, for their hos, their families, and the hope that future generations would never again have to live under the shadow of the Vorotallicae. It was a cause worth bleeding, fighting, and even dying for.
Finally, the vast runic lines and magical matrices were completed. Across the entire Doomsday World, the surface quaked violently as the planet’s lifeforce was drained, all of it converging toward the heart of the Faerathian Fortress. The air shimred with unbearable energy as space itself began to bend.
High above the stronghold hovered three figures: Vlad, fused with Ouroborus; Akai; and a third, radiating a presence that eclipsed even theirs.
His antlers rose like a divine crown, glowing with a golden light that split the clouds, while translucent wings of pure Law spread wide behind him. This was Brightkin, the Emperor of Faerathia, the strongest being in their empire.
The True Depravita had already proven their worth by slaying the Voroe Lords and securing control over the Doomsday Worlds. Now the Emperor himself had co forth, his re arrival signifying that this was no longer a campaign; it was a reckoning.
Vlad’s plan was straightforward but devastating: strike fast, strike hard, and allow no retreat. Vlad and Emperor Brightkin would target the Sacred Kings directly.
The air thickened as energy continued to rise, forming a blinding pillar of light that reached beyond the clouds. Every soldier, every soul waited for the signal.
Vlad stood motionless at the formation’s center, the communication crystal burning in his hand. His gaze was sharp, his entire being focused as fla after fla ignited within the crystal. One by one, the signals from the other Doomsday Worlds ca in.
His voice bood across the fortress.
"NOW!"
The instant the word left his mouth, the world erupted.
The power of the planetary formation roared to life, consuming what little vitality remained in the Doomsday World. The ground split apart, mountains crumbled, and the sky fractured into shards of crimson and gold as the last vestiges of the world’s soul were converted into raw energy.
That power detonated in a single, cosmic pulse, tearing through the boundaries of space itself. The light of the teleportation array engulfed everything, its brilliance strong enough to blind even a god. Across the other Doomsday Worlds, the sa cataclysmic phenonon unfolded. Lands trembled, forests withered into dust, and oceans boiled away, their life essence feeding the ritual.
And then—silence.
Thousands of soldiers, and the mightiest champions of the alliance, vanished into the Void Between Worlds, their course set toward the heart of one of the oldest and most feared realms in existence.
---
The Chaovoratities Plane, ho of the Vorotallicae, was a world beyond mortal comprehension. It dwarfed even the Zanis Howorld and the sprawling Graecia Empire. Its tallic surface stretched endlessly, broken only by massive black spires that pierced the heavens like the teeth of an ancient god.
The air itself was toxic, laced with tallic dust and cosmic radiation potent enough to sear the lungs of a Sage. Rivers of molten tal and crimson plasma carved their way across the land, giving off a constant hiss like a world forever burning.
It was a realm where ninety-nine percent of all life could not survive, an eternal furnace made for creatures of steel and corruption. Here, flesh and tal fused as one, giving birth to abominations that grew by devouring both living matter and ore alike.
In the largest of its countless citadels, a structure so massive it could eclipse continents, a council convened. The chamber was circular, surrounded by colossal pillars of obsidian and lightless crystal. Six thrones ford a perfect hexagon, though only five were occupied.
The beings who sat upon them were colossal in both size and presence. Their re auras distorted reality, and their combined power could make entire worlds tremble. These were the Sacred Kings, the supre rulers of the Vorotallicae Race, whose will was absolute across the stars.
Normally, their etings were filled with hunger and amusent, as they sched to conquer or devour new realms. But today, the air was thick with fury. Their tallic eyes burned with hatred as the reports reached them, five Doomsday Worlds under their dominion had been invaded, and in each, their Lords had been defeated or slain.
"Those ants from the Xoas Kingdom! How dare they interfere with our plans!"
The roar of the Sacred King thundered through the chamber, shaking the tallic walls until cracks ran along the surface. The vibration of his voice alone sent waves of energy rippling across the hall, making even the air hum with fury.
"Hmph," another growled, his tone sharp as grinding steel. "If that fool Barbatos had fulfilled his duty, none of this would have happened!"
The ntion of the absent Sacred King sent a wave of scorn through the group.
"He was defeated by a boy not even two centuries old," sneered a third, his voice dripping with contempt. "And instead of dying with honor, he fled, raiding one of our treasure vaults to heal his miserable wounds. If he has fallen so low, he doesn’t even deserve the title of Sacred King!"
The chamber filled with a chorus of tallic snarls. The Sacred Kings argued like devils, each eager to lay bla, each trying to rise above the others. Their auras clashed and sparked like colliding storms, darkening the entire throne hall in swirling shades of crimson and shadow.
Yet, unlike true demons, their squabbling soon subsided. Slowly, their burning eyes turned toward the figure seated at the center of the chamber, the one surrounded by an aura so dense that even their imnse power faltered before it.
Only a pair of lightning-blue eyes glead from within the swirling maelstrom of black energy, piercing through the darkness like twin stars. The oppressive pressure he emitted was unbearable, forcing the others to bow their heads slightly, even as pride burned within them.
He was no ordinary ruler among the Vorotallicae. He was their origin, their peak, their god, the World King of the Chaovoratities Plane. The first and oldest of their kind, and the only being the Sacred Kings truly feared. When unity was required, when chaos threatened to divide them, it was his will alone that bound the Voroe together.
As silence fell over the council, the World King slowly raised his head. His eyes, cold and blazing with divine fury, gazed into the distance, beyond the walls, beyond even the horizon.
Then, his expression darkened.
"They dare..." he whispered, his voice resonating like thunder breaking through the void. The chamber quaked.
In the next mont, the very fabric of space trembled as streams of spatial force slamd against the world’s barrier. At first, there was only one, a faint distortion, lacking the power to pierce through. Then ca a second, and a third... until five vast torrents of energy struck in unison, rging into a single blinding rift.
A deafening crack split the air—
"CRACK!"
The barrier of the world shattered.
And the armies of the invaders broke through, descending upon the Chaovoratities Plane.
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