CHAPTER 813: ASEXUAL REPRODUCTION

Vlad moved through the stronghold, walking among the soldiers, sharing words, smiles, and brief moments of camaraderie. Laughter and celebration followed in his wake, his presence lifting spirits with a simple nod or look. Though he had ascended to an extraordinary level of power, with the might that surpassed hydrogen bombs and with a lifespan now measured in the hundreds of thousands of years, Vlad had not forgotten his roots. He knew how easy it was for beings like him to lose touch with those they led, to become detached from the mortals who bled in their name.

And so, he walked among them—not as a god, but as a commander. As one of them.

It was only after hours had passed, after he had moved through nearly the entire stronghold, that Vlad silently slipped away, vanishing through a network of hidden passages beneath the fortress. These paths led him deep underground, far below the main chambers, where no celebration could be heard.

He entered a subterranean facility, quiet and filled with an ominous hum. There were no humans here. Only towering creatures clad in obsidian flesh, lined in jagged armor that seemed to drink the light. Their movements were precise, calculated, and brimming with potential violence.

"Reapers..." Vlad muttered, his voice low and reverent.

Even without access to a proper energy pool or innate abilities, these monsters could tear through high-ranking warriors with ease. Guardians fell to them like wheat before a scythe, and even Sages, with all their power and the ability to fly, were little more than obstacles to be smashed aside. But what truly made the Reapers terrifying wasn’t their strength. It was their coordination. When guided by a mind like Overlord’s, they moved as one. Their formations were flawless—divine in their precision.

As Vlad gazed at the silent army of Reapers, a familiar presence appeared beside him.

"Prime Master," said Overlord, performing a respectful bow.

Vlad turned to him immediately, skipping any pleasantries. "How many Reapers did we lose in securing the continent?"

Overlord looked back at the Reapers for a moment, his eyes flashing, before replying. "Through the recycling of old Thiamatos units and the consumption of nearly fifty percent of the Monsters of Terra, we successfully forged forty-two thousand three hundred Reapers. Of those, we lost ten thousand two hundred and ninety-eight."

Vlad frowned. Nearly a quarter of their force—gone.

In a typical open-field battle, losses for the Reapers were usually minimal. Even when clashing with elite units ten times their size, casualties rarely exceeded a hundred. The reason for such devastating losses was clear: the suicidal soldiers of Exilion, loaded with explosive agents in their blood, had proven to be a deadly counter.

The only small consolation was that Reapers, despite their power and ferocity, were not truly alive. They lacked souls and any real sense of self. Thinking of them as machines would not be wrong. That fact made the losses easier to bear, though no less frustrating.

Vlad was about to change the subject when Overlord spoke once more.

"There is something I must show you, Prime Master," he said. "I wasn’t certain it would work, which is why I did not report it earlier. But it appears that my genetic alterations have succeeded."

Vlad raised an eyebrow. His interest was piqued—but what truly surprised him was the subtle flicker of a smile on Overlord’s usually emotionless face.

Suddenly, a roar echoed through the facility.

"ARRRGGHHHHH!"

Thousands of Reapers let out guttural screams, their bodies convulsing. Their chests bulged grotesquely, and their mouths expanded threefold, their jagged jaws splitting open unnaturally. Vlad’s eyes sharpened as he watched the cause of the disturbance unfold.

From the mouths of the Reapers, massive eggs were being regurgitated. Each egg pulsed with energy—raw, vibrant vitality. Without wasting a moment, the Reapers began digging, carving large holes in the facility floor. They placed the eggs within the pits and then coated them with thick layers of burning hot plasma before burying them.

Vlad’s fists clenched slightly.

"Asexual reproduction..." he whispered.

His mind flashed back to the Leviathan War on Terra. One of the key reasons they had been able to defeat the Leviathan hordes was that their soldiers could only be birthed through the central Obelisk. Had the Leviathans possessed the ability to reproduce autonomously across different regions—nesting and expanding unchecked—Terra would have fallen. The war would have been lost.

Yet Vlad did not linger in fear. He turned to Overlord.

"Explain."

Overlord nodded without delay. "I modified their genetic encoding, embedding a self-replicating embryo within each of the original Reapers. These embryos function as biological copies of the host. When the host gathers enough nutrients, the embryo matures, creating an egg capable of external development. With enough heat and energy, new Reapers can be hatched from these eggs."

A glimmer of awe flickered in Vlad’s eyes.

The implications were staggering. They now had a method of creating Reapers independent of the Obelisk. A growing army—one that could multiply without central oversight.

But before Vlad could get too excited, Overlord added, "Unfortunately, only the first generation possesses the embryo, and only one. The second-generation Reapers do not. Only those born directly from the Thiamatos Obelisk contain the reproductive code."

"I see," Vlad said, a flash of disappointment crossing his face. Still, the smile returned quickly. He understood the limitations of science and war—even Overlord, a supreme geneticist, could only do so much. What they had achieved was already a marvel.

"How long until the eggs hatch and the next wave of Reapers is ready?" Vlad asked.

"It should take no more than three weeks, Prime Master," Overlord replied.

Vlad nodded once, casting one last glance over the Reapers tending to their eggs. Their screams had faded, their bodies settling as they resumed their quiet, watchful stance. The process was painful, but it was worth it.

The True Depravita of Wrath gave Overlord a small nod full of respect and admiration as he and the A.I. Chip Clone left the subterranean chamber.

...

Once again, inside the command center at the heart of the Dragon Spine, Vlad stood at the center of the room, surrounded by the most powerful figures of the Xaos Kingdom. The True Depravita of Wrath was accompanied by the other Depravitas, Overlord, Grand Marshal Anglisu, Chief Counselor Alonz, and the kingdom’s senior generals and high-ranking advisors. The air was heavy with strategy, pressure, and expectation.

Vlad wasted no time.

"How large is our army?" he asked, voice sharp and direct.

It was a simple question, yet perhaps the most important one of all. If they were truly going to conquer the Exilon, their numbers would determine whether such an ambition was achievable—and equally importantly, how long it would take. Would their campaign take months, years, or decades?

All eyes turned immediately to Overlord.

During the past few weeks, Overlord had been fully focused on directing and commanding tens of thousands of Reapers. The complexity of real-time battlefield control had made it difficult to allocate his vast computational abilities to broader logistical analysis. But now that the Reapers were operating autonomously and the Asaris Continent was under control, Overlord’s mind was free to process deeper data.

Within seconds, he accessed the complete military tally of the Xaos forces currently stationed in Exilion.

"In terms of combat personnel," Overlord began, "we successfully transported two hundred forty-one thousand four hundred and twenty from Terra to Exilion."

The room fell silent as the number hung in the air.

"Most of these troops," he continued, "are currently stationed in fortified positions surrounding the Dragon Spine. They remain on standby, awaiting deployment instructions."

He paused, then provided a breakdown:

"Out of the total number:

One hundred fifty-nine thousand are classified as Peak-Tier Guardians.

Eighty thousand, three hundred and twenty are Guardians capable of exerting Sage-Tier battle power.

Two thousand, one hundred and twenty are fully ascended Sages.

Of those, several dozen have attained the level of Peak Sage Tier, though exact rankings fluctuate based on combat conditions."

A long silence followed.

Vlad’s face slowly curved into a wide, approving smile.

It was better than he had hoped.

Thanks to the accelerated evolution of Terra following its ascension—and the continued influx of Origin Force during its initial transformative stages—his people had evolved at an extraordinary rate. In just a few years, they had achieved a level of military strength that could rival or even surpass civilizations that had existed for millennia.

What made this even more impressive was the fact that this army was not merely numerous—it was elite. Every single soldier had been tested, trained, and refined. This was not a haphazard force of drafted civilians or raw recruits. These were warriors forged through fire and tempered by relentless battle. These were Terra’s finest.

Of course, Vlad understood the stakes. These troops were the pinnacle of their civilization’s development. If they failed—if they were wiped out—there would be no second wave. No backup force waiting in the wings. Every man and woman in this army was irreplaceable.

And so, they were to be used wisely.