Thirty-four hours was not a random number that the White Death had declared for the start of the fight in the Void Between Worlds. It was precise. That was exactly the ti the White Blade, the empire’s supre warship, needed to reach the range of the Zanis Howorld.
Now they were close enough that even Vlad, staring out from the blade’s prow, could see the massive world looming ahead. His eyes widened despite himself. It was gargantuan—dozens of tis larger than Terra—and the density of its energy and laws saturated the surrounding void like an ocean tide. The sheer vibrancy of the realm spoke of untapped potential, of further growth yet to co.
"If it were given a few million more years and enough nurture and Origin Power," Vlad thought grimly, "it could surpass even Graecia, perhaps rising to the rank of a cosmic world like the Heaven, Abyss, or Hell itself."
The thought flickered through his mind, but the True Depravita of Wrath pushed it aside as the planet began to glow. As the White Blade drew near, titanic runic lines flared to life, stretching across the surface of the Zanis Howorld. Magic matrices vast enough to be seen from orbit burned against the dark, converging their power toward a single point.
It happened almost too fast to follow. Before Vlad could react, a colossal beam of condensed energy erupted from the world’s surface.
"Gods damn!" the True Depravita of Wrath roared.
The cannon was apocalyptic. Its scale dwarfed comprehension—its power easily enough to obliterate a Lord, and its breadth so vast it could swallow the White Blade whole. Even Altharion, who already knew of the might and powers of the Zanis Howorld, stared in uncharacteristic shock. Despite his lineage and background, he had never witnessed such destructive majesty.
Only the White Death remained unmoved. His gaze never wavered as the world-killing beam surged toward them. He did not flinch, nor shift a muscle, even as the light grew so intense it seed monts away from engulfing them all.
Then, just as annihilation seed inevitable, a vast force manifested around the warship. The void itself trembled as the unseen power cleaved outward, not rely shielding the ship but sundering the beam in two.
From afar, the sight was breathtaking: a radiant blade of titans splitting a world’s wrath clean down the middle, scattering it across the stars like rain. Destruction reigns in all directions, and massive teors and stars were reduced to ash before the might of the beam.
Vlad’s jaw tightened as he stared at the weapon that had saved them. Awe warred with dread. What kind of being could build sothing like this?
Yet the spectacle was not over.
The White Blade itself began to glow, its hull erupting with cascading streams of energy. Flas of power ignited the void as it charged, then unleashed its own cannon in reply.
Imdiately, the planetary barrier around the Zanis Howorld revealed itself. A shield of energy vast enough to cloak continents surged into being, absorbing the bulk of the strike. Yet not all of it. Several beams pierced through, stabbing into the surface below. Explosions blood across the land like wounds torn in the flesh of a god, shockwaves flattening cities and mountains alike.
The battle in the Void Between Worlds had barely begun, but Vlad was certain that hundreds of thousands had already perished.
He did not feel good about it.
But after confronting the nightmare universe in the Exilion World, he understood the truth. This was not an age for heroes.
"We can be the ’good ones’ or the ones who save the universe," Vlad thought coldly. "But not both."
His eyes hardened. Doubt and hesitation burned away, replaced by absolute, unflinching certainty.
By the ti the White Blade’s barrage ended, a massive breach had been carved into the shield protecting the Zanis Howorld. But it was temporary. Already, the runic matrices knitted together, the barrier beginning to nd. Unless the satellites and formation cores orbiting the planet were destroyed, no army could hope to descend.
The White Blade slowed its advance. At the prow, Emperor Alexandro raised his hand. A majestic spear materialized in his grip, forged of a strange material that blazed like a white supernova frozen in ti. The weapon’s power resonated with him, magnifying his aura until the void itself seed to shiver. Without hesitation, he strode forward.
Vlad and Altharion followed. Together, the three apex warriors moved across the void, standing now only a few thousand kiloters from the barrier itself—a distance either could cross in monts. Their auras burned like suns, oppressive and razor-sharp as they faced the figures rising from the world to et them.
The first appeared on the right: a dark, imposing figure radiating nace and ancient authority.
His presence was suffocating, a tide of shadow that seed to claw at the soul. Two crescent-shaped horns crowned his hooded visage, gleaming pale as symbols of dominion. His face was hidden, yet the black void beneath that hood pulsed with infernal power.
At his side rested a greatsword, its steel dark and pitted, stained by centuries of conquest and bloodshed. His armor was jagged and brutal, forged from blackened steel designed for intimidation as much as war. Across his chest burned a single rune of stark white light, humming with devilish force. A cloak trailed behind him like living shadow, endless and ragged, branded with the insignia of a twisted iron cross—the mark of tyranny.
The Zanis family had secured a Lord of Hell as their champion!
On the left, another threat erged. Not one figure, but dozens.
They marched in perfect formation, each identical to the last. Colossal bodies of obsidian, sculpted with unnatural precision. Their muscles swelled with unearthly might, their features as if chiseled from stone by a cruel and rciless hand.
They moved in silence, yet their unison echoed like thunder across the void. Each step projected the presence of a legion—an army without individuality, without hesitation, without fear.
Their faces were smooth and featureless, devoid of mouths or expressions, marked only by glossy, insect-like eyes that glistened black beneath the void. These eyes reflected the cold starlight above yet radiated no compassion, no hatred—nothing but emptiness. A void of intent, chilling in its simplicity, made them more terrifying than any beast that raged with fury.
It took little effort for the trio to understand the nature of this legion. They were not true living beings but constructs—monstrosities manifested and bound by the will of the Zanís Family. None among them reached the rank of Lord, but each emanated power approaching the Half-Lord Tier, and together their presence was overwhelming. An army of false n, perfected for war, marching with soulless unity.
And at their center stood one on a level beyond all the rest.
He was a towering figure, a divine warrior forged in brilliance and wrath. His entire form radiated molten golden light, so bright that he seed less a man and more a living sun trapped in flesh. His helt, crowned with sharp horns, obscured his features, yet the eyes that burned beneath it were unmistakable—one white, one black—mirroring the twin suns of the Zanis Howorld.
His body was impossibly muscular, carved with the precision of a god’s hand. Veins of molten light coursed beneath his skin, pulsing with energy as though his very blood were made of fire. At the center of his chest, a blazing core glowed with unfathomable power, a celestial engine that beat in perfect rhythm like the heart of a star.
Behind him hovered a constellation of weapons, each burning with celestial fla. Spears, swords, and axes orbited him like satellites of judgnt, answering only to his will, ready to strike with divine precision at a single command. Together they ford a halo of destruction, a crown of wrath that frad his incandescent form.
His armor, seamless and radiant, was not a shell but an extension of his body. Compared to this, even Altharion’s Aegis of the First Light, a divine set admired by all, seed diminished. The sheer wealth and power of the Zanis Family was displayed upon this warrior’s body as a living testant, each fused relic declaring their supremacy.
The figure who stood between the Devil Lord and the artificial humanoid army was no ordinary champion. He was Pompeyo—Patriarch of the Zanis Family, a Lord whose strength was beyond asure. More than that, he was the World King of the Zanis Howorld, master of its Origin Force, and the enemy leader.
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