The one who appeared behind the White Death was a towering skeletal figure cloaked in tattered, drifting robes, radiating an aura of imnse and oppressive power.
Above his skull burned a jagged crimson halo, its fractured light twisting unnaturally as if reality itself struggled to contain it. His elongated fra and crushing presence made it seem as though space bent around him, as if his very existence weighed upon the world and forced it to yield.
In one hand, he held a massive spear-like weapon shaped like a gravitational anchor, its presence so dense that the surrounding air warped and folded toward it. The weapon looked capable of pinning not just enemies—but entire worlds. Dark shadows spilled from his cloak like falling matter, as if even light could not escape his influence.
The White Death’s eyes widened.
The spear flashed forward, aid directly at his back—at his heart.
There was no ti to dodge.
Across from him, Beelzebub’s lips twisted into a vicious smile. The situation had reversed. Now it was the Devil Paragon who refused to release his opponent, locking the White Death in place and ensuring the strike would land.
Then—
"ZNNNNN—"
The sound of flesh tearing echoed across the storm-filled sky of the Fourth Layer.
But the spear had not pierced the White Death.
Instead, a sword pierced the back of the newly arrived Devil Paragon.
Shock and horror flooded Beelzebub’s eyes.
Behind the skeletal figure stood the True Depravita of Wrath.
Vlad had manifested silently, his presence concealed until the decisive mont. His power was vastly greater than what the Devil Paragon rembered. Four Sinful Eyes burned across his forehead, surrounding the central Quantum Eye, their combined presence radiating annihilating force.
A cold, rciless smile spread across Vlad’s face.
Gray flas erupted from his blade as he drove the sword deeper and deeper, unleashing a torrent of Quietus power that froze vitality, structure, and resistance alike. The weapon finally erged through the front of the Devil Paragon’s chest in a burst of dark blood and collapsing energy.
As he witnessed the power surrounding Vlad, realization struck Beelzebub.
"You... are a Paragon as well."
The horror in his heart deepened.
And it only grew worse when he saw the expression on the White Death’s face.
Understanding dawned.
While the Devil Paragons had prepared their ambush...
The True Depravita of Wrath had been waiting all along.
The trap had been reversed.
And then the White Death made his move.
"Grave of Infinity."
Instantly, Beelzebub’s right arm twisted violently, space folding inward around it like a vortex. In less than a second, everything below the elbow imploded into nothingness.
Absolute dread flooded Beelzebub’s mind.
But it was the skeletal Paragon—the one still impaled—who remained calm.
His crimson halo flared.
Hatred and ancient will burned within his hollow gaze.
"Unholy Push."
An overwhelming repulsive force exploded outward.
The power was so imnse that Vlad, the White Death, and Beelzebub were all hurled away in different directions, their bodies torn through the air as if struck by a planetary shockwave. All three coughed blood as the force rippled through their internal organs.
The skeletal figure straightened slowly.
His na was Baal.
A Devil Paragon even older—and in many ways more dangerous—than Beelzebub. For countless ages, Baal had acted through avatars, influencing reality from the depths of Hell. He had not manifested his true body in over a million years.
Most of the universe had forgotten him.
"I suppose," Baal said quietly, his voice heavy with ancient malice, "it is ti for them to rember my na."
Gravitational force compressed around his body as the massive wound through his chest began to close, flesh and structure pulled together under the pressure of his own power.
Then he turned.
And shot forward.
He moved like a collapsing star.
Vlad’s eyes narrowed as Baal closed the distance instantly, the gravitational distortion around the spear so intense that it seed capable of piercing through dinsional layers themselves—perhaps even bypassing the protection of Quantum Expanse.
He had no intention of testing it.
Tightening his grip on his sword, Vlad spoke a single word.
"Burst."
Baal’s eyes widened.
Gray flas detonated inside his body.
When Vlad had pierced him earlier, he had not simply wounded him—he had left behind a fragnt of Quietus power, hidden deep within his internal structure.
Now it erupted.
Quietus energy flooded through Baal’s form, turning his flesh gray, attempting to collapse him from within.
But Baal was still a Paragon.
Gravitational force surged through his body, the weight of a thousand suns crushing inward. The gray flas buckled and shattered under the pressure, destroyed before they could fully spread.
In a second, he would be free.
But a mont was enough.
Vlad surged forward and slashed across Baal’s chest, carving deep through reinforced flesh and spatial defenses.
Blood erupted.
The wound burned with energy that carried destructive resonance all the way toward Baal’s consciousness.
The Devil Paragon clenched his teeth in silent fury.
Even under such damage, his grip never loosened.
His spear ca down in a retaliatory strike.
Vlad raised his sword instantly.
Steel and gravitational force collided.
The clash released a violent explosion of energy that shattered the surrounding air and split the ocean surface below.
Not far away, the White Death seized the opportunity.
He tackled Beelzebub mid-flight and drove him downward like a falling teor, both figures crashing into the ocean and plunging toward the abyssal depths.
The strategy was simple.
Divide.
Each would face a Devil Paragon alone.
It was dangerous. It limited the support they could give each other. One mistake in either battle could an death.
But Vlad and the White Death trusted each other completely.
They knew the other would endure.
And so, in the Fourth Layer of Hell, two Paragon-tier battles erupted simultaneously.
Above the ocean, Vlad and Baal clashed at ever-increasing speed. Quietus force and spatial manipulation t gravitational mastery that bent reality itself. Each exchange tore open space, warped the horizon, and sent shockwaves across the drowned world.
Below, in the deepest darkness of the ocean floor, the White Death drove Beelzebub into the tectonic foundation of the realm itself.
The impact shattered the massive plates beneath them.
Hell trembled.
And the true war between Paragons had only just begun.
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