The eyes of the True Depravita of Wrath burned with killing intent as he moved to deliver a decisive blow.
Just as his sword was about to land, however, the crimson halo above Baal erupted with power, generating a crushing gravitational field around the Devil Paragon.
The pressure was so imnse that Vlad felt his body being dragged toward the ocean below. Every muscle in his fra strained. Even keeping his arm raised required every ounce of determination he possessed.
For a brief instant, it seed the attack would fail.
Then the wrathful energy Vlad had been gathering detonated within him.
Power surged through his body, allowing him to push forward with everything he had. The Quietus Sword drove down and pierced straight through Baal’s collarbones.
And Vlad did not stop there.
With a roar filled with fury, he twisted the blade and forced it downward, tearing open the Devil Paragon’s chest and sundering flesh, bone, and structure alike.
At that mont, Baal’s gravitational field intensified, slamming Vlad’s body downward. The True Depravita of Wrath was hurled into the ocean and driven all the way to the abyssal floor, the pressure crushing against him with bone-breaking force.
Yet Baal had no ti to take satisfaction in the damage he had inflicted.
The wound Vlad had dealt was catastrophic—even for a Paragon.
The sword had carried a multitude of destructive forces, and all of them lingered within the injury, corrupting the flesh and preventing it from closing. Decay, destruction, lightning, heat, spatial distortion, and Quietus energy gnawed at the wound, making conventional regeneration impossible.
Still, Baal was an ancient existence who had survived countless ages.
He had prepared for monts like this.
Before the damage could worsen, the crimson halo above his head shattered into fragnts. The pieces dissolved into streams of scarlet light that flowed into his chest, fusing with the ruined flesh. The foreign energies were forcibly expelled, and the wound sealed beneath a patch of dense crimson tissue.
Only then did Baal draw a steady breath.
The damage was repaired—but the cost was imnse.
The crimson halo was not rely an ornant. It was a core component of his cultivation, a symbol of power accumulated over eons. Sacrificing it had dealt a heavy blow to his future growth.
Rage ignited within him.
Pure, burning hatred.
"BOOM!"
The ocean exploded upward as Vlad burst back into the sky, water cascading around him in massive columns.
His eyes narrowed as he saw the restored form of his opponent. The recovery was faster than expected—but it did nothing to diminish his killing intent. If anything, his battle will only intensified.
Baal did not hesitate.
His power surged, and he descended from the sky like a falling teor, gravitational force condensing around him. The tip of his spear aid directly at Vlad’s head, tearing through the air with annihilating montum.
In response, the True Depravita of Wrath unleashed his own power.
Energy erupted from his body as he poured more and more force into the Quietus Sword. From a distance, the two figures resembled opposing stars—one dark and one radiant—streaking toward each other, each carrying enough power to destroy the other completely.
Just before the collision—
The Celestial Eyes of the True Depravita of Wrath flared.
Space twisted.
A portal opened directly in front of Baal’s descending spear, swallowing the weapon’s tip.
For a fraction of a second, the Devil Paragon did not understand what had happened.
Then a second portal opened behind him.
The spear erged from it—driving straight into Baal’s own back.
Agony exploded through his body as the weapon pierced him from behind.
Vlad’s lips curved into a cold smile.
He had been storing that ability for the perfect mont. There could not have been a better opportunity.
Imdiately, the True Depravita of Wrath attempted to close the portals, intending to sever the spear in half and trap part of it inside Baal’s body.
But the Devil Paragon reacted quickly.
With a surge of strength, Baal wrenched the weapon free at the last possible instant.
Even so, the montary distraction cost him.
Before he could fully recover, the Quietus Sword carved across his chest, tearing through newly reinforced flesh. White-gray flas erupted from the wound, engulfing his body and sending him flying upward through the sky, a torrent of dark blood trailing behind him.
Vlad did not allow even a second of reprieve.
He surged forward imdiately, pressing the attack.
If he could kill Baal here—if he could eliminate one of Hell’s Paragons—the entire campaign through Hell would beco far easier. The Unification itself would accelerate.
With pure determination, Vlad raced after the Baal.
Far beneath the raging surface, where light could not reach and pressure alone was enough to crush mountains, two figures moved through the abyss like forces of nature.
The ocean floor was no longer intact.
Continental plates had been torn apart. Vast trenches split the seabed, and boiling plus of superheated water erupted from fractures where the crust had been shattered by repeated impacts.
At the center of that devastation—
Beelzebub slamd the White Death into the stone.
The impact did not produce sound. It produced a vacuum shock that blasted the surrounding water away for hundreds of ters before it rushed back in a crushing implosion.
Cracks spread across the oceanic plate.
The Devil Paragon did not pause.
His eyes glowed with temporal power as his body flickered forward—one second into the future.
Five punches landed at once.
Each blow carried enough force to pulverize a mountain, and the temporal distortion behind them slowed the target’s perception and movent, forcing the White Death to endure the entire sequence before their body could react.
The White Death’s ribs collapsed inward. Blood burst from his mouth as his body was driven deeper into the seabed.
But his eyes remained calm.
White flas ignited.
They did not burn outward. They burned through him.
The temporal residue clinging to his body—the slowing effect of Beelzebub’s power—was incinerated instantly, reduced to nothing by the absolute rejection of foreign energy.
The next punch ca.
The White Death moved.
His hand rose and caught Beelzebub’s wrist.
The Devil Paragon’s eyes narrowed.
Before he could shift forward in ti again, the White Death stepped in and drove his fist into Beelzebub’s abdon.
Entropy detonated.
There was no explosion.
Instead, the Devil Paragon’s flesh collapsed inward for an instant, organs twisting and destabilizing as structural decay spread through his body.
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