CHAPTER 848: INTO THE FINAL BATTLEFIELD

Vlad’s eyes narrowed as he noticed that Orfry did not pursue him. He could sense the burst of rage behind him—a colossal, burning fury that surged like a million tortured souls—an emotional detonation triggered by the realization that the entire battle had been a ruse.

Orfry knew that Vlad had never intended to win that fight. It had all been a distraction, orchestrated to keep the ancient entity occupied while the Xaos Kingdom launched its offensive across Exilon.

The anger at being outsmarted was thunderous, palpable—but still, Orfry did not lose control. He didn’t give in to wrath. Instead, he turned away from the Oniris Continent and vanished, retreating back into his territory.

Vlad released a quiet sigh as he hovered above the clouds, his form flickering with strain. The entity was terrifying—not just for his power, but for his discipline and wisdom. Had Orfry lost focus and chased him, Vlad could’ve lured him into one final trap and possibly ended him for good. But that opportunity was gone. Orfry had made the right call, and their next encounter would not be another distraction.

It would be war, and only one would survive.

Once Vlad confirmed there were no enemies nearby, he finally allowed his body to relax. He disengaged his fusion with Jormungandr and Ouroboros, the three beings materializing separately in the sky, each with a solemn expression. They had succeeded in their mission—but they knew the war was far from over. What lay ahead would be a bloodbath of epic proportions.

It didn’t take long for the trio to return to the Dragon Spine, the central military base of the Xaos Kingdom. Just hours ago, the vast underground stronghold had been alive with activity—soldiers preparing for deployment, engineers running diagnostics, and commanders delivering final orders. Now, it was eerily silent.

Only one soul remained.

All other forces had already been deployed. The only one left behind was the mastermind guiding the entire army—Overlord, the A.I. Chip Clone who had integrated himself into the core tower that controlled communication and command infrastructure.

As the three True Depravitas hovered into the chamber, Overlord opened his eyes and watched them with calm precision. Without words, they assumed a meditative position in the air. Vlad, Jormungandr, and Ouroboros began absorbing the pure energy flooding the underground stronghold, devouring every particle to replenish what they had lost in battle.

Overlord continued to monitor and coordinate troop movements across the world. Hours passed. Then, after five hours, the A.I. Chip Clone severed the link to the core tower.

All troops had been deployed.

All strategic objectives secured.

The time had come to move.

Vlad, Jormungandr, and Ouroboros rose together, their bodies fully healed. The wounds sustained during their battle against Orfry had vanished. Their eyes were sharp. Their strength renewed.

With no hesitation, the four quickly began dismantling the Core Tower. There was no longer any point in keeping such a vital asset in an abandoned stronghold. The battlefield would now shift to Lotario and Orario—the two continents acting as a chokepoint, cutting off Orfry’s six remaining domains.

With terrifying speed, the True Depravitas and the Divine Avatar disassembled the massive structure, storing it for reassembly at the new frontlines. Then, without delay, they moved out—flashing across the sky toward the border of the Oniris Continent.

They split up to cover ground faster, moving like falling stars, decimating any monsters they encountered along the way. Cleansing an entire continent, even for four powerful entities, was a titanic undertaking. But halfway through their journey, they encountered legions of the Xaos Kingdom already stationed there.

At the front was Grand Marshal Anglius.

The legendary commander stood tall despite his wounds from previous battles. His aura burned brightly, full of strength and resolve. As Vlad approached, Anglius bowed with deep respect.

The True Depravita of Wrath responded with an approving smile before continuing on, joined by the other two Depravitas and Overlord. With Oniris cleansed and secured, they could now shift all attention to the final assault.

After a few more hours of flight, they reached their destination—a towering mountain range that pierced the clouds like titanic spears. The peaks stretched endlessly, forming a natural barrier shaped like a massive V. This was the border between Lotario and Orario, the last line between the liberated territories and the enemy strongholds held by the Zanis Family.

There, at the convergence of the mountain ranges, stood the full might of the Xaos Army.

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers. Tens of thousands of Reapers. Wave upon wave of War Machines. The sky above buzzed with aerial units and surveillance drones. And nestled within the mountain pass were massive energy towers, each one charged and ready to fire devastating energy beams capable of annihilating entire battalions.

The fact that the Xaos Kingdom had accomplished this in mere hours was staggering.

Not only had they liberated continents and eliminated enemy monstrosities, but they had also constructed an entire command network and fortress-line. It was a testament to the will, power, and precision of an army guided by the mind of a supercomputer—a mind capable of processing more information in a minute than a Sage could in a month.

As soon as they arrived, Vlad, Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Overlord got to work. Together, they reassembled the Core Tower at the center of the new forward base. Thankfully, the foundation had already been prepared by the soldiers in anticipation of their arrival. In less than fifteen minutes, the tower was operational once more.

Overlord reconnected with the global network, regaining control over the Reapers, War Machines, and strategic communication channels.

With that handled, the four entered the central command tent—where Fafnir, Freya, and the rest of the Xaos Kingdom’s generals and top strategists awaited them.

Each and every one of them wore a solemn expression, but none more so than the True Depravitas of Envy and Lust—Fafnir and Freya.

Vlad’s gaze swept over the group, pausing briefly on the two. He could see the wounds they carried, still not fully healed despite their immense power. Fafnir’s once-scorching scales were dulled, blackened in places where corrosive energy had eaten away at them. Freya, though regal and poised, bore cuts along her arms and shoulders where her totems flickered with unstable energy.

They had been the spearhead of the invasion into the two continents held by the Zanis Family. The injuries they sustained made one truth undeniably clear—Orfry had more than one powerful general. Vlad was reminded of Atila, and how close even Jormungandr had come to death fighting him.

It was obvious that Orfry’s forces were vast, and his most dangerous champions had yet to fully reveal themselves.

"How long until you can fight at full strength again?" Vlad asked bluntly.

His tone held no warmth—not out of coldness, but out of necessity. This was war. Sentimentality could be fatal. He needed to know whether they would be able to hold the frontlines when the final battles erupted.

Freya and Fafnir didn’t flinch at the question. They were soldiers—commanders, not children—and they understood what the war demanded of them. With fire in their eyes and conviction in their voices, they nodded.

"We will be able to expel the remaining corrosive energy from our systems before the day’s end," Fafnir said, his voice low but resolute.

Freya nodded in agreement beside him, her eyes shimmering with deadly resolve.

Vlad gave them both a slight nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He turned away and gestured with his hand, summoning a massive virtual display screen into the center of the command tent. The map of Exilon appeared in glowing blue and red hues, showing the full scale of the war’s progress.

They had taken control of most of the world.

Even more crucially, they had isolated Orfry and his forces into a corner of the map. Every path had been sealed, every escape route cut off. Now, if Orfry wished to push his army forward, he would be forced to march them through a brutal bottleneck—a death trap of mountains, war machines, and prepared battalions.

Vlad’s eyes slid to Cezar, who stood silently off to the side, his brow furrowed and fists clenched.

"You’ve stopped receiving reports from your people inside the six continents still under Zanis control, haven’t you?"

Cezar nodded grimly. His voice was quiet, hoarse.

"I stopped receiving any messages about an hour ago," he said. "The last transmission reported abominations spreading across every corner of the land. Then... silence."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Cezar’s hands trembled slightly at his sides, his fingers curling into white-knuckled fists. The silence wasn’t just a communication failure—it meant death. His people were gone. And that was far from all, since the fate of every man, woman, and child in those continents was clear to all

"They’re all gone," he whispered, the weight of it choking his voice. "By now... they’ve either become one of those things, or they were consumed by them."

No one spoke.

There was nothing to say.