CHAPTER 737: SUPERIOR LEGEND

The nine Legends instinctively tensed, their bodies alert and guarded, as they felt the overwhelming spatial control radiating from the black-haired youth before them. But that was only the beginning.

Vlad’s body was now sheathed in a second skin of energy—an ethereal armor that made him appear fused with the very fabric of space itself. Every movement distorted reality, his presence bending dimensions like ripples in a pond.

If that weren’t enough, a surging demonic aura coursed through his flesh and blood, amplifying his strength to terrifying levels. His form radiated a dangerous harmony of destruction and precision.

Vlad’s cold gaze swept over the group of Legends. Then, in an instant, he vanished.

He reappeared directly in the path of the wounded Angel, striking her again without pause. There was no mercy in his blows—only cold, calculated wrath. Again and again he struck, sending the once-proud warrior hurtling through the air like a broken doll, each impact spraying more blood across the sky.

The other nine Legends stood in stunned silence. The brutality, the power, the speed—it was too much.

Though none were particularly close to the Angel, the reality was undeniable: they had arrived together, and now one of their own was being publicly dismantled. They shared uncertain glances. Acting rashly might mean sharing her fate.

Before they could make a move, they felt the gazes of the other four figures—Jormungandr, Fafnir, Ouroboros, and Overlord—locking onto their backs with unyielding pressure. Though the invaders had the numbers, the aura of the man radiating divine energy and the terrifying presence of the small yellow cat struck a primordial fear into their hearts.

They didn’t dare move.

Vlad continued to pummel the Angel, blow after blow until she could no longer lift a hand to defend herself. Only when her body went limp—so injured she could barely breathe—did he stop. He reached down, seized her by the head, and teleported back in front of the group.

Now, standing before them, with the Angel’s bloodied body hanging helplessly from his grasp, Vlad was like a harbinger of death. His eyes were devoid of warmth, his presence imposing and unrelenting. The very air darkened around him, his silence heavier than thunder.

It was now crystal clear to all nine remaining Legends: this man wasn’t just strong.

He wasn’t a typical Legend.

He could fight, and defeat, High Legends!

Bitter expressions twisted their faces as they came to terms with their situation. They had come like predators into a cave they believed to be unguarded, expecting to return home with priceless spoils. Instead, they had walked into the den of a beast beyond their imagining.

Vlad’s gaze swept over them like a blade.

"The Xaos Kingdom," he said coldly, "does not show mercy to invaders."

His voice reverberated with power.

"We already slaughtered all those who dared to trespass on Terra during its ascension. That will not change now that we stand in the Higher Dimension."

An ocean of psychic power erupted from him, washing over the group with suffocating intensity. The nine Legends flinched, their minds instinctively working to find an escape route, their strategies unraveling under pressure.

"You are now prisoners of war," Vlad continued. "You may contact your elders. If they wish to extract you from this world... they had better bring a ransom worthy of your lives."

There was silence—then disbelief.

The nine Legends stared at him in shock. Contacting their elders was something they had already intended to do—not to negotiate a ransom, but to summon rescue. They’d underestimated this world. Severely. While it would be humiliating, calling for help was better than dying here.

One by one, they carefully reached for their personal communication devices. With subtle movements, each one sent silent transmissions. Of course, they masked their intentions, disguising their desperation beneath layers of diplomatic jargon. They didn’t want Vlad to know they were calling for backup.

But Vlad saw through them.

And he didn’t care.

Still holding the Angel by her head, he turned to her with an emotionless stare. "You do it too," he ordered. "Or I’ll kill you where you stand."

A crippling fear struck her, shaking her soul to its core. She didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. Not like this.

With trembling hands, she activated her communicator and called her superior.

The moment all ten Legends had finished sending their messages, silence reigned again. None of them dared speak. Vlad, too, said nothing. He simply closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and began circulating his energy, preparing himself for what would come next.

It didn’t take long.

New auras appeared on the edges of Terra’s atmosphere—powerful, immense, and far beyond ordinary Legends.

Vlad’s eyes opened, narrowing with focus.

"Six High Legends," he murmured, recognizing the pressure as it spread through space like wildfire. His expression was grave.

He no longer had access to Graecia’s Divine Treasures. While his talent and foundation had evolved significantly, facing six High Legends simultaneously would be no simple matter.

But it was still manageable.

Until the seventh arrived.

A few seconds later, a final aura descended—so massive, so refined, that it eclipsed all the others combined. The very heavens shimmered in response.

And then... he appeared.

A radiant figure blazed through the void like a descending star. He looked like a god incarnate.

Clad in golden, intricately-forged armor adorned with crimson sunburst patterns and arcane seals, he radiated divine might. His long white hair fluttered behind him like silk in a storm. His glowing red eyes burned with divine wrath, and a halo—shaped like a radiant sigil—hovered above his head, pulsing with authority.

In the center of his chestplate, a red core glowed like a captured sun. His gauntlets dripped molten energy, each movement sparking with solar fire. And behind him, massive wings of golden flame stretched wide, shedding embers as he descended.

Vlad clenched his fists as the man’s presence settled upon the world.

"A Superior Legend."

That level of power... it matched Spartacus, perhaps even Marshal Maximo.