Vlad did not waste ti. He broke the fusion, allowing the four True Depravitas to erge from his soul. His face went pale, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him—so intense he nearly collapsed. For several seconds, his body trembled as though ready to give way, but then he steadied himself. Strength returned to his limbs, and with it, a wide smile curved across his lips.
The evolution of his body and soul, and the steady current of Origin Force drawn from the Infernal Monolith, improved his endurance greatly. He had managed to sustain his strongest state for several seconds without suffering catastrophic backlash. It was a staggering improvent, a step forward that gave him confidence that his path through Hell was not only survivable but conquerable.
And the good news did not end there.
The seven Superior Legendary Devils he had subdued began to stir, rising shakily from the ground. The True Depravitas and Vlad all felt it imdiately—their auras had shifted. Dark energy pulsed within them, a steady, growing resonance. Their left eyes had turned to pits of pure darkness, and while outwardly the changes seed subtle, their insides told a different story. Their souls and bodies were undergoing significant alterations.
To any ordinary observer, they remained Devils. But to the sensitive perception of the True Depravitas, it was clear: these creatures were evolving into sothing far more dangerous. Sothing monstrous even to fiends.
The Depravitas frowned almost in unison. Their control over emotions was absolute, forged from mastery of sin itself, yet even they could not hide their unease. For the aura now clinging to the seven reminded them of sothing they had fought before—sothing they had thought destroyed forever. It was disturbingly similar to the Nightmare Universe they had barely managed to defeat in Exilon.
Their eyes turned sharply to Overlord.
He t their gazes without flinching. The chanical coldness in his deanor did not waver even as the weight of five Depravitas’ scrutiny pressed upon him. They did not need to speak; their demand for answers was etched in their stares.
Overlord opened his mouth. It stretched unnaturally wide, the jaw almost tearing itself apart. From the cavernous maw, a torrent of mutated flesh spilled forth—writhing with countless mouths, unblinking eyes, and twitching tendrils. The sight was enough to make even the hardened Depravitas stiffen. There was no mistaking it.
It was the Nightmare Universe.
A fragnt of that ancient, pre-cosmic horror, caged and mutilated, yet still alive.
"You saved it?" Ouroboros’s voice cut the silence like a blade. His eyes narrowed with fury, his tone sharp. The Depravita of Greed rembered too vividly the nightmare they had endured. Killing that abomination had required everything they had, and even then it had been a miracle. To hear that Overlord had preserved it was enough to spark his wrath.
But the A.I. Chip Clone shook his head.
"To be accurate," he said in his cold, asured tone, "it saved itself. When its core body was destroyed, it had already hidden a vessel in the void near Exilon. Its soul fled there. I intercepted it, caged it, and began my experints."
The Depravitas exchanged glances. Their anger did not vanish, but clarity washed over them. They had underestimated the Nightmare Universe’s capacity for survival. Had Overlord not acted, the creature would have endured, regrown, and plotted vengeance. It might already have been preparing its return.
For a mont, suspicion and fury ebbed, replaced by grudging acknowledgnt. They had not been betrayed—if anything, they owed their current safety to Overlord’s intervention. Still, their eyes remained sharp, inquisitive, demanding more.
Overlord obliged.
"I saw potential in its structure," he explained. "A lifeform composed of amalgamated bodies and souls. To kill it outright would have ant the loss of its unique abilities. Instead, I lobotomized its core consciousness—the true seat of its existence. What remains is mine to command."
He paused to let his words settle before continuing.
"Unfortunately, its core continually attempts to reforge itself. Its resilience is extraordinary. To maintain control, I have reshaped my own body, modifying my stomach into a vessel—a cage in which the Nightmare Universe is confined and perpetually lobotomized."
Even Devils, masters of sin and cruelty, felt a flicker of awe. To repeatedly shatter the mind of a pre-cosmic entity, reducing it again and again into sothing half-dead, half-alive, was a tornt almost beyond imagination. For Overlord, it was not tornt at all. He neither took pleasure in it nor recoiled from it. It was simply the most efficient thod.
The Depravitas felt no pity for the Nightmare Universe. To them, it was justice. Karma. After all, had it not condemned countless souls to endless agony within itself? Now it endured the sa fate—a living prison, enslaved to the will of another.
Vlad leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with both intrigue and hunger.
"What can you do with it?"
Overlord turned toward him, and the faintest trace of pride entered his otherwise monotone voice.
"As of now, I can only forge seven Nightmare Eyes. By extracting its flesh and shards of its soul, I fuse them with my own consciousness. They beco extensions of ."
He gestured toward the seven kneeling Devils. Their heads bowed in unison, their new black eyes glowing faintly as they moved with eerie synchronization.
"The Nightmare Eyes rebuild their hosts’ bodies continuously, reshaping them closer and closer to the Nightmare Universe itself—imnsely powerful, endlessly devouring, nearly immortal. But their cores are mine. My will is their will. When their transformation is complete, I will reabsorb them into the Nightmare Universe, fortifying it further with my imprint. Then I will create seven new vessels, implant the Nightmare Eyes, and repeat the cycle. Again and again."
The throne room fell silent.
Vlad, Freya, Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir all stared at Overlord with awe. Where others saw only horror, he had seen opportunity. Where others recoiled, he envisioned a weapon. His imagination was boundless, and his cruelty absolute.
Vlad broke into a slow smile, nodding once.
"Good job."
Overlord returned the nod, then pried open his monstrous maw again. The writhing horror of the Nightmare Universe retracted, vanishing into the abyss of his stomach-cage.
Vlad turned his gaze back to the Infernal Monolith, his expression hardening into sothing sharper, more triumphant.
"Now," he said, his smile broadening, "let us enjoy the spoils of victory."
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