An imnse wave of pain assaulted the three-headed minotaur. Lightning and fire coursed through his flesh, wreaking havoc on his nervous system. From the inside out, his body was scorched and torn, yet even under such catastrophic damage and excruciating agony, he refused to yield.
"ROOOOOOAARRRRRR!" Ovalion stood his ground, all three of his monstrous heads roaring in defiance against the onslaught.
Jormungandr had leaped away from the minotaur imdiately after unleashing his devastating spell. As he landed, he saw Ovalion still standing despite what should have been a lethal strike.
The small yellow cat’s eyes widened in surprise, and his mind buzzed with shock. "I used two of my Depravita Aura waves for that attack, and he’s still on his feet! Just how strong is this monster?"
He did not allow panic to set in, though. Even if Ovalion was still alive, the attack had at least paralyzed him for a fleeting mont. And that mont was precisely the opportunity the Depravita of Envy needed.
Like a teor plunging from the heavens, the forty-five-ter-tall fiery dragon plumted from the sky, accelerating to hypersonic speed.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!"
The impact was cataclysmic. Fafnir’s massive body, wreathed in flas, slamd into the three-headed minotaur with a force powerful enough to rival a battery of siege weapons.
The ground quaked and fractured under the collision, sending boulders the size of buildings hurtling through the air. Magma columns exploded upward through newly ford fissures, painting the battlefield in molten red. When the cataclysmic dust and smoke finally settled, Fafnir could be seen pinning Ovalion against the ground, claws digging deep into the minotaur’s flesh.
Breathing heavily, the Depravita of Envy glared down at his foe, astonished to see that despite suffering countless broken bones, Ovalion was still struggling. The three-headed minotaur seed oblivious to the concept of surrender; even though his body was all but spent, his life force burned on with relentless tenacity.
Yet all creatures had a limit. A focused barrage of high-energy lazers sheared off Ovalion’s limbs, rendering him unable to resist any further. At last, the brutal enemy lost what remained of his strength and slumped in defeat.
Vlad’s eyes were cold and rciless as he surveyed the three-headed minotaur’s dismbered form. The Depravita of Wrath had consud two waves of Depravita Aura to fuel those sunder beams, and he knew well that the only reason they succeeded was that Fafnir had the creature pinned down. His gaze darted to Jormugandr, who quickly stood before the beast’s enormous heads. With a single surge of lightning-infused power, the small yellow cat knocked Ovalion unconscious.
Not until that mont did the four Sky Seed Depravitas dare to relax, even slightly. Nevertheless, they all wore grim expressions on their faces. The battle had been four against one, and they had taken their opponent by surprise while he was already weakened and severely injured. Yet even under those conditions, it required everything they had to bring him down.
This fight underscored the deadly reality of the Doomsday World. Had they faced this foe one-on-one, even Vlad or Fafnir, who had the strongest bodies, would have been forced to flee.
All around them, the volcanic mountain range continued to erupt spasmodically, spewing lava and ash into the air. This ceaseless volcanic activity concealed much of the energy signature of their battle, reducing the likelihood that others would detect them. For now, there was no pressing need to relocate.
Vlad glanced again at Jormugandr. The small yellow cat nodded imperceptibly and took a deep, asured breath as he began concentrating his energy for the next step. anwhile, Vlad, Ouroboros, and Fafnir remained perfectly still, vigilant against any external threats while their comrade prepared his spell.
Minutes ticked by, the air thick with tension. At last, Jormugandr channeled the final threads of his Depravita Aura, rging them with the infernal flas of his devil bloodline. From his feline body, a wave of spiritual fire erupted—dark and ethereal—surging into the brains of the three-headed minotaur. By harnessing the fusion of devil bloodline and the power of Gluttony, Jormugandr intended to devour Ovalion’s soul, or at least fragnts of it.
Since Ovalion was a Sage-level life form, his soul was significantly tougher than that of lesser beings, and Jormugandr could only consu a relatively small portion before the rest dissipated. Yet, a small portion of mories might be enough to uncover valuable information about this new world.
As the dark flas danced across Ovalion’s flesh, they seeped into the monstrous minotaur’s body, reaching deep into the core of his being. Soon, wisps of black smoke swirled around Jormugandr, returning to settle within the small cat’s body as he absorbed what remnants of Ovalion’s soul he could. When the final embers of that spiritual fire faded, Jormugandr remained motionless, and eyes squeezed shut in total focus.
A tense silence followed. Vlad, Ouroboros, and Fafnir observed him with rapt attention, eager to learn if this desperate asure had yielded any crucial knowledge. Monts later, Jormugandr’s eyes snapped open, flickering with a aningful light that signaled he had found sothing.
"The na of this Doomsday World," Jormugandr announced, his ntal voice somber, "is the Land of the Three Calamities. Its size is roughly ten thousand tis larger than Terra."
All three of his companions widened their eyes in astonishnt. Terra was already imnse, and the notion of a place ten thousand tis greater—one that existed solely as a battlefield for beings of trendous power—was staggering. Yet they maintained their composure, waiting for Jormugandr to continue.
The yellow cat then shifted his gaze toward the fallen minotaur. "Ovalion belonged to the Vorotallicae Race," he said. "They hail from a realm called the Chaovoratities Plane, a civilization on par with Hell or the Abyss in terms of power and thirst for conquest. Their society is built on the survival of the fittest, where constant conflict and domination define their way of life."
Vlad felt his eyes narrow at this revelation. Being part of such a formidable civilization carried nurous advantages for Ovalion, from powerful cultivation techniques to access to potent resources. The very fact that one warrior of this race could push the four Depravitas to their limits was proof of how dangerous the inhabitants of the Land of the Three Calamities could be—and how carefully they would need to tread.
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