CHAPTER 865: XAOS GOD

"NOW!"

A roar of power and defiance shook the battlefield, bursting from the colossal World Snake. Lightning and life itself flared across his scaled form like rivers of fire dancing in the storm.

"It is weakened—attack with everything you have!"

Jormungandr’s body blazed with radiance as he opened his colossal maw. A torrent of lightning surged forth, a beam so massive that it tore through the corrupted sky like a divine spear. The strike ripped a gaping wound across the nightmare’s surface—and this time, the wound did not heal.

All eyes widened at once. The damage inflicted by the Red Sun of Wrath was far beyond anything the nightmare could recover from. Its regeneration was broken.

With hearts set aflame, the warriors roared as one. Determination surged through them like wildfire, and their barrage renewed—fiercer, stronger, and unrelenting. Victory was no longer a distant dream. It was within reach. They would pour every last drop of strength into seizing it.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The nightmare universe itself screamed in pain, its voice booming like a collapsing mountain.

"You... disgusting mongrels!" it shrieked in hatred and despair. But its fury was powerless against what consumed it.

From deep within, the radiance of the Red Sun of Wrath continued to blaze, spreading like a wildfire of divine vengeance, devouring everything in its path. The flames it released became fuel for its own expansion, burning and then rising anew, feeding upon the very essence of the nightmare. From outside, the armies’ attacks hammered at it ceaselessly, tearing apart entire sections of its vast existence. Piece by piece, the nightmare was being destroyed.

Desperation broke through its rage at last. Its voice trembled, no longer with arrogance but with something dangerously close to fear.

"If you take my life, you will become the sworn enemy of my kind!"

The threat came not as a proclamation of strength, but as a plea wrapped in menace. The nightmare had been brought so low that it turned to the one thing it thought it would never need: begging.

Within the Red Sun, the figure of Vlad could be seen. His silhouette stood tall in the storm of psychic fire, his eyes blazing with wrath so absolute it felt endless. He stared unflinching at the nightmare universe before him.

Slowly, he pressed his arms inward toward his chest, drawing every flame, every wave of energy, every shred of fire from the Red Sun back into himself. The flames folded inward, shrinking from the nightmare universe.

For a fleeting moment, the entity believed its words had worked. Perhaps the warrior would relent, perhaps the Red Sun would diminish, perhaps survival was still possible.

But then it felt it.

That will. That boundless, unstoppable, eternal will—a force so overwhelming that it could only belong to Wrath itself. It was infinite, unyielding, and relentless. It would not stop. It would never stop until the nightmare and every kin like it were erased from existence.

"SUPERNOVA!"

The roar shook not only the nightmare but the firmament itself, echoing into the void.

The next instant, the Red Sun of Wrath exploded outward.

A radiant blaze so immense burst forth that it outshone the stars and swallowed the sun itself. Waves of searing power surged in every direction, detonating the nightmare universe from within.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

The explosion thundered across Exlion, a cataclysm that made the skies tremble and worlds quake.

When the radiance finally began to fade, silence hung heavy.

The warriors of the Xaos Kingdom gazed upward, eyes wide with awe. Above them, the sky burned with glory. A whirlwind of flames surrounded the majestic Red Sun of Wrath, which blazed unchallenged against the sky. The nightmare universe had been utterly annihilated, obliterated into fragments. What few pieces remained fell like fiery meteors, burning to ash before they could touch the earth.

For a moment, silence reigned.

Then, a single voice broke it.

"Xaos King!"

It was one voice, but soon it became many.

The chant echoed, swelling into hundreds, then thousands, then hundreds of thousands of voices. The armies of the Xaos Kingdom roared with devotion and awe, raising their weapons high toward the Red Sun as if saluting their god.

And then, the voices of the Rebellion forces joined them. Side by side with the Xaos Kingdom’s warriors, they too chanted the name. The battlefield that only moments ago had been chaos and slaughter now rang with unity.

It had been a savage battle—one of blood, fury, and despair—that had driven them all to the very edge of their willpower and sanity. Yet as the flames of the Red Sun washed over them with its warmth, all suffering, all pain, all sacrifice seemed worth it.

For five full minutes, the chant endured, carrying the will of warriors who had glimpsed both death and divinity. Their voices flared like fire, uniting them.

At last, another power stirred. A divine aura flared across the battlefield, silencing the chants. All eyes turned upward as Overlord ascended to stand beneath the Red Sun’s flaming maelstrom.

He gazed over the countless warriors with eyes sharp and commanding, his voice echoing with divine authority:

"Victory is ours—by the might of the Xaos God."

His words sank into every heart, resonating like sacred truth. The Xaos soldiers roared in triumph. Even the Rebellion forces bowed their heads, for none could deny the spectacle of the Red Sun blazing above.

Among them stood Grand Marshal Anglius and the Royal Guard, veterans who had followed Vlad since he was but a young man with the humble strength of a Champion. They, too, could not help but nod in acknowledgment of the title, gazing with reverence at the blazing sun that had saved them all.

Yet among the True Depravitas, silence reigned.

They frowned in quiet thought. The Xaos Faith was undeniably powerful—through it had come the divine weapons and treasures that had helped win this war. But they knew Vlad. They knew how he felt about being worshiped as a god.

Still... how could they deny it? How could they argue when the True Depravita of Wrath himself had become a blazing sun in the sky, a living source of warmth, power, and wrath for all beneath him?

In the end, they could only sigh, their silence an acknowledgment.

But the victory was not without its sobering truth.

This clash had shown them the terrifying scale of the enemies lurking across the universe. They had won, yes—but luck had played no small role.

If the nightmare had not been so arrogant, allowing Vlad to enter its depths unharmed...

If Vlad himself had failed to consume it from within...

If the power of Samsara Typhoon had not been strong enough to redirect and channel energy...

So many points could have gone wrong. So many chances for failure.

As the warriors roared in triumph, the True Depravitas did not forget. They knew how close they had come to death.