Of course, it wasn’t only the Demon Lords who were confused and shocked by this sudden turn of events. The Vorotallicae and even the forces of the Alliance froze in disbelief. None could fathom what they were seeing — two mighty Demon Lords standing beside a radiant Archangel, all three appearing in the heart of the Chaovoratities Plane.
The only one not consud by confusion was Vlad, the True Depravita of Wrath. This was all part of a plan — one devised shortly before the battle had begun.
During one of their many communications, Overlord had inford Vlad about the plot of certain Demon Lords who were planning to attack Terra, claiming to seek vengeance in the na of Hajack, the Demon Lord who had perished in the Primordial God’s Tomb.
Normally, repelling such an invasion would not have been difficult for Overlord. With the power of Terra itself and the Divine Power stored within it, he could face the Lords without a problem.
Yet the A.I. Chip Clone had devised sothing far more cunning. Instead of simply resisting the invasion, Overlord conceived a way to turn the enemy’s aggression into an opportunity.
He deliberately engaged the Demon Lords in the Void Between Worlds, drawing them into a carefully designed teleportation formation hidden deep within the dinsional fabric. That array redirected the Demon Lords and the Archangel directly into the Chaovoratities Plane, whose defenses had already been severely damaged by the ongoing war. The realm could no longer resist intrusions of such magnitude.
And so, in the midst of chaos, two colossal wild cards had just been dropped onto the board.
For a long mont, silence dominated the battlefield. Neither side — Vorotallicae nor Alliance — dared to act. Both realized that these newcors could tip the scales completely, for good or ill. The wrong word could ignite an apocalypse.
Barbatos, his skull-like visage blazing with molten fury, was the first to speak.
"You two," he thundered, his voice echoing across the torn horizon, "aid us against these invaders, and we shall grant you riches beyond asure!"
The words of the Sacred King struck the air like a hamr. The Faerathia Emperor and other commanders of the Alliance grew tense. It made sense — Demons and Vorotallicae both belonged to The Darkness. It would be natural for them to join forces against the Alliance. The expressions of greed flickering in the eyes of the Demon Lords only deepened that fear.
But before Barbatos could speak further, the Archangel raised his voice.
"Why fight for promises of future reward," he said, his tone cold and sharp as steel, "when you can claim their treasures now? After all, who protects them? No one stands between you and their wealth. Walk forward, take what you desire, and leave this dood place behind."
The suggestion cut straight to the hearts of the Demon Lords. Their massive forms trembled, not with fear, but with avarice. They could sense the mountains of wealth hidden beneath the corrupted ground — divine relics, condensed souls, ancient forges filled with essence from the dawn of creation.
This battle was dangerous. Here, even the mighty could fall. Why risk their lives for promises when they could seize tangible spoils and vanish into the Abyss?
And even if the Vorotallicae grew enraged, what could they do? They were already trapped in a desperate war against the Alliance and the invading Lords. Hunting the Demon Lords down afterward would be impossible.
The Archangel, seeing hesitation bloom within them, pressed his advantage. His voice rang like a celestial blade. "Tell , if you help them, do you truly believe they will honor their word once the danger has passed?"
Overlord’s eyes glowed with the cunning light of a devil masquerading as a god. He spoke a final word, his voice low and venomous. "Would you?"
That question shattered the last trace of hesitation in the hearts of the Demon Lords.
Without another word, their enormous wings unfurled, and they vanished in twin flashes of abyssal fire. They soared toward the horizon, where the wealth of countless ages lay hidden within the citadels of the Vorotallicae. The ground trembled as their power ignited — waves of black fla rising skyward as they began to plunder everything in their path.
The Sacred Kings scread in fury. The skies turned crimson as Barbatos’s rage boiled over.
Explosions of demonic energy consud the horizon as their treasuries, relics, and sacred forges — built over millennia — were torn apart by the ravenous hands of the Demons
And then, things grew worse.
The Archangel was now free.
Without hesitation, Overlord’s form blurred — a golden cot streaking through the torn sky. A thousand radiant portals opened around him in a circle of divine geotry. From each, god weapons erged — spears, swords, and halberds forged from pure Divinity.
In an instant, they fired as one.
The barrage butchered countless Legendary Voroes, erasing them before they could even scream. Even the lesser Lords were severely wounded.
Overlord raised one hand. A whisper left his lips — a single, ancient word.
"Niflheim."
A sword materialized in his grasp — black as the void, yet cold as the underworld itself. Its edge shimred with the essence of frost, a power that devoured fla and light alike.
He swung it downward.
Barbatos roared, his molten claws blazing like stars as they t the descending blade. The impact was cataclysmic — a blinding explosion that tore open the sky, shattering the landscape beneath them. Fire and frost collided, forming a storm that devoured everything in its path.
Though Overlord wielded imnse divine energy, Barbatos was still a Sacred King. The clash was brutal and unrelenting, and for a mont, the Archangel was forced back.
But Overlord was not alone.
In the instant before the Sacred King could press his advantage, Vlad appeared at his flank — his body wrapped in lightning and dark flas, his Soul Blade screaming with the essence of destruction.
He struck with everything he had. The blade cut through the infernal fire, detonating with the combined force of lightning, space, and death. The explosion hurled Barbatos backward, sending his colossal form crashing into the ground and carving a canyon miles wide through the continent.
That sight — that possibility of victory — reignited the hearts of the Alliance.
The stalemate was broken.
Morale surged like wildfire. The Alliance forces, their spirits blazing, threw themselves into battle once more. From the Legends to the Lords, they unleashed everything they had, fighting with renewed fury and conviction.
A wide and radiant smile spread across the face of the True Depravita of Wrath as he witnessed the burst of overwhelming power unleashed by his comrade. Flas of battle danced across his crimson eyes, burning with the thrill of destruction and vengeance.
By contrast, Overlord showed no emotion at all. His gaze was sharp, analytical — the cold, precise calculation of an entity who viewed warfare as an equation to be solved. Every movent, every clash, every death fed into his perfect strategy. Both beings, though utterly different in heart and spirit, shared one unshakable resolve: the annihilation of the Sacred King.
Without a word, the two nodded to one another before they shot forward together, streaking toward the vast crater that had been carved into the world by Barbatos’s fall. Their presence radiated pure killing intent, an oppressive aura so violent that even the very air trembled.
"ARGHHH!" Barbatos erupted from the crater with a roar that shook the sky. His skull-like face twisted in wrath and agony, molten veins blazing as rivers of magma stread from his body.
Though bloodied and battered, his power remained titanic. His eyes glead with cold fury, filled with nothing but hatred for the two beings who dared to challenge him.
The battlefield ignited once again. Swords and claws collided with thunderous force, tearing the heavens apart. Fire and lightning raged across the sky, freezing and burning the air at the sa ti. The Sacred King was still an unstoppable storm of destruction — but against the combined might of the True Depravita of Wrath and the Overlord, even he began to falter.
Each strike from Vlad’s Soul Blade cut deeper, the death essence crawling into Barbatos’s wounds and gnawing at his soul. Overlord’s divine frost sealed those wounds, slowing his regeneration, suppressing the infernal flas that fueled him. Step by step, blow by blow, the Sacred King was being driven backward.
Yet such relentless ferocity ca at a cost. Both Vlad and Overlord were burning their life force to sustain their strength. The pressure mounted, and in that feverish montum, mistakes were inevitable.
At the height of the battle, it happened — a single, fatal misstep. Vlad moved between Overlord and Barbatos, blocking his ally’s line of attack. The Sacred King seized the opening instantly. His soul flared with volcanic light as he unleashed one final burst of power.
His claw tore through space — and phased through Vlad’s chest.
For a mont, silence fell.
Barbatos’s burning gaze glimred with cruel satisfaction. He knew Vlad’s technique would soon end; once his incorporeal state faded, his body would reform around the Sacred King’s arm — allowing him to crush the Depravita’s heart in his grasp.
But then, to his confusion, Vlad smiled.
A calm, defiant whisper escaped his lips.
"I got you."
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