CHAPTER 846: IMMORTAL BODY

A cold and brutal light flared in the eyes of the True Depravita of Wrath as he watched his blade pierce through Orfry’s skull, emerging cleanly from the back of the entity’s head. It was a lethal strike—a blow that would have killed any human, demon, devil, or angel without exception.

And yet... instead of pain or panic, Orfry smiled.

A wide, unnatural grin spread across his face, teeth glinting like rows of daggers.

In the next instant, Orfry’s massive fist slammed into Vlad’s chest with bone-crushing force, launching him across the sky like a cannonball. Vlad crashed through clouds and air currents, blood spilling from his mouth as pain lanced through every nerve in his body.

His body trembled, battered by the sheer impact of the hit. But Vlad was not one to fall so easily. Within seconds, his massive Depravita Aura surged through his veins, healing tissue, sealing wounds, and forcing his frame back into fighting condition.

He forced himself upright midair, eyes sharp, watching his enemy carefully.

Orfry’s gaping skull wound was already healing.

The hole in his face began to shrink, flesh bubbling and knitting together as if time itself had reversed.

"Did you really think your kind were the only ones with immortal bodies?" Orfry asked, amusement dancing in his voice.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed at the revelation. He hadn’t expected this. His blade had been charged with pure destruction—yet the enemy was regenerating. Worse, Orfry looked invigorated, not weakened.

And the battle wasn’t over.

Raising his right hand, Orfry pointed at Vlad. A second later, a grotesque mouth opened in the center of his palm, rows of jagged, salivating teeth grinning into the void.

Vlad’s instincts screamed.

Before he could react, a beam of pure destructive energy burst forth from the maw, sundering the sky with unimaginable force.

He barely teleported away, vanishing in a crackle of lightning.

Another beam came—then a third. Then a fourth. Orfry was unleashing energy cannons with such speed and precision that the sky became a dance of chaos and light. Vlad had no choice but to keep blinking from one side of the battlefield to the other, dodging attacks by the second.

"Hahahahaha!"

Orfry’s laughter echoed through the storm. He was enjoying himself. His monstrous body, though humanoid in form, was nothing more than a vessel for a far darker existence—an eldritch realm of despair and endless fuel.

Each cannon demanded a massive amount of energy, but Orfry had more than enough.

Vlad gritted his teeth and continued weaving through space. He couldn’t afford to get hit. The smallest delay would mean obliteration.

But he wasn’t just running.

He was charging.

Every dodge, every moment of reprieve, was used to gather energy in his blade. It pulsed and vibrated with overwhelming might, glowing brighter with each second—imbued with Ouroboros’s destruction, Jormungandr’s lightning, and Vlad’s own space-sundering essence.

The energy was beginning to reach critical mass. Even Orfry noticed the shift.

His amused grin gave way to something more focused—more serious.

Still, he wasn’t worried. So long as Vlad couldn’t get close, the sword meant nothing. The radiation pouring from the cannons was too dense, too wild. Space became unstable, preventing Vlad from teleporting directly toward him.

And then, Vlad seemed to have failed to predict the pattern of one of the cannons. His movement faltered—just for a second.

Orfry noticed.

He raised his palms, mouths wide open, and unleashed a final cannon—the strongest one yet, a beam so vast and bright it could carve a hole in a continent. It struck Vlad directly, seemingly consuming him in an ocean of blinding white light.

Orfry’s smile widened, a thrill running through him. The Scourge had finally fallen.

Or so he thought.

A heartbeat later, a sword pierced through his back, emerging from his chest with deadly precision.

Orfry’s eyes widened.

There, behind him, holding the blade, stood Vlad.

"Impossible." He was certain Vlad couldn’t teleport past the radiation. But what Orfry didn’t know was that the True Depravitas possessed not just an Immortal Body but also something called Negative Teleportation.

It was a power that allowed them to use the negative emotions of their enemies—fear, hatred, rage, killing intent—as portals. Vlad had hidden this ability throughout the war, knowing its strength lay in secrecy.

Now, at the perfect moment, he had used Orfry’s excitement and lust for victory as a gateway.

Orfry didn’t have time to think.

The sword in his chest began to glow—blazing like a supernova.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!"

The sky trembled as all the energy Vlad had been storing for the past thirty minutes was unleashed in a single devastating explosion.

Light, fire, lightning, and spatial distortion consumed the battlefield. The radiant blast vaporized clouds and carved shockwaves into the upper atmosphere. When the brightness finally faded, Orfry’s body could be seen—his torso shredded, a massive hole gaping through his chest. Only a few strands of flesh connected his neck to his lower body.

And yet...

Even in that depraved state, Orfry raised his arm and, with the last of his strength, backhanded Vlad with titanic force.

The blow sent Vlad flying, crashing through the air and flipping over himself dozens of times. Blood leaked from his mouth, ribs fractured, organs bruised.

Still—he caught himself midair, halting his spiral.

Hovering in the sky, he looked back toward Orfry, watching in silence as the entity’s body began to regenerate once more.

A complicated expression crept across Vlad’s face.

"So this is what it feels like to be on the other side..." he thought grimly. The roles had reversed—now he was the one watching his enemy survive a lethal wound, defying death itself.

But he couldn’t stop.

He flashed forward, blade ready, aura burning like a sun.

Across the battlefield, Orfry’s eyes flared with renewed bloodlust. Though his body could regenerate, doing so drained tremendous energy. The last strike had taken a toll. His cannons were no longer viable. He couldn’t sustain them.

With a roar of fury, Orfry charged.

So did Vlad.

The two full of killing might.