CHAPTER 740: A GATE OF HATRED

The Superior Legend Angel was sent flying across the sky, leaving trails of golden flame in every direction. The shockwave from Vlad’s lightning-forged spear still echoed through the heavens.

Despite the overwhelming force behind the attack, the angel managed to endure. His radiant wings, though scorched and frayed, had withstood the impact—a testament to his immense power.

He tumbled through the sky, twisting wildly before regaining control. But as he steadied himself mid-air, his face contorted with fury. Pain laced his every breath, and though he wouldn’t say it aloud, humiliation flooded his heart.

A mere Legend had sent him hurtling through the sky like a rag doll, and with a single spell.

"I’ll kill him!" the angel roared, his voice shaking the clouds.

But before he could act, Vlad appeared in front of him, moving faster than his eyes could track. The Depravita’s form blurred with speed, becoming a streak of blue lightning as he launched a ferocious punch toward the angel’s head.

The Superior Legend barely managed to raise his forearm to block in time.

"BOOOOOOM!"

The sound of the impact tore through the air like a divine cannon. The collision released a burst of lightning and raw kinetic energy, sending the angel flying again, this time crashing through several clouds, his golden flames scattering in his wake.

Vlad grinned. Not just from pride—but from the thrill of the fight.

Every cell in his body surged with energy. His physical strength was greater than ever, bolstered by Jormungandr’s divine vitality. His Seal of Sin pulsed within him, granting near-complete domination over space, and that was far from everything.

"I can feel it," Vlad thought as he hovered in the sky. "This fusion allows me to control Jormungandr’s Laws directly. The Law of Life, the power to consume and reshape... it’s mine."

Without hesitation, he teleported again—this time turning into a living bolt of lightning, flashing forward with near-instantaneous speed.

The angel, enraged and alarmed, hissed through clenched teeth. Though powerful, he was fundamentally a spellcaster. His physique, while enhanced through divine blood and cultivation, was still no match for a melee-focused monster like Vlad.

Using his own life force as fuel, the angel forcibly stabilized his body, channeling his divine will.

"Enough!" he shouted, throwing both arms wide.

The skies above him pulsed with celestial energy, and in the next instant, a wall of golden flame surged into existence. It expanded rapidly, stretching across the horizon in all directions—a radiant inferno designed to repel even divine beings.

The angel took a long breath, certain his fire would buy him enough time to prepare his next spell, one powerful enough to turn the tables.

But he had severely underestimated Vlad’s will.

While the Superior Legend was still weaving runes in the air, Vlad burst through the divine flames.

His skin blistered, his scales charred, and his muscles scorched. His face melted into something skeletal, exposing raw bone and sinew. The pain was immense.

Yet Vlad endured.

And he kept moving.

In mere seconds, his body regenerated again. The divine flesh reformed, muscles returned, and the scales of Jormungandr rippled back into existence. His face—handsome and savage—reemerged, eyes glowing with brutal intent.

The angel looked up—too late.

"Berserker Ravenous Breath!" Vlad roared, his voice shaking the heavens.

From his open maw, a devastating beam of dark-blue plasma erupted, infused with the Law of Space and enhanced by the Law of Life. It tore across the distance in a flash and blasted point-blank into the angel’s chest.

"AAAAHHHHHH!!" the angel screamed, his divine voice broken by agony.

The force of the blast launched him downward, tearing through the sky and crashing into a distant sea with apocalyptic fury. The water ignited, flames dancing across the surface before a massive crater swallowed the ocean, as if a meteor had struck the planet.

On the sidelines, the watching High Legends stared in horror and awe.

Vlad’s strength was unfathomable. Not only had he overwhelmed a Superior Legend—he did so without pause, without hesitation, and with a pool of energy so vast it seemed bottomless. Every time he was wounded, he regenerated. Every time he struck, it was like a divine force colliding with the world.

Vlad didn’t care about their judgment. He was already moving again, a streak of storm light flashing toward the crater he had just created.

As he got closer, the surface of the boiling crater exploded upward.

"ARRRGHHHHH!!" a scream of pure hatred echoed from the depths.

The Superior Legend Angel rose again, half of his body blackened and ruined. One of his wings was a burning skeleton of flame and bone. His once-beautiful face was distorted with burns and blood, but his eyes... his eyes still burned with rage.

The angel roared and placed both hands against his chest, beginning to condense flames—superheated, golden, and laced with divine wrath. He was burning his life force once more, compressing it into a final attack.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed. He could feel it: the energy coalescing, raw and unstable, potent enough to vaporize a small country if left unchecked. But as he prepared to respond, something strange happened.

The angel’s fury wasn’t just visible. It was palpable. Tangible. It carried weight—not just divine rage, but something deeper. Something personal.

And that fury... it resonated with something inside Vlad.

His eyes flickered with a strange light. For a brief moment, the battlefield faded from his focus. Instead, he felt as if a gate had opened inside his soul—a dark door creaking open at the edge of his perception.

Somewhere beyond the battlefield, something ancient stirred.

"Is this...?" Vlad whispered to himself. "What is this sensation...?"

But there was no time for answers.

"DIE!!!" the angel shrieked, his voice raw, no longer elegant—just primal.

From his chest, a beam of golden flame erupted—so tightly compressed it glowed white-hot at the center. It wasn’t just magic. It was an essence—compressed hatred, pain, shame, and fury made manifest in fire.

The ground cracked below.

The sky screamed above.

And the beam of divine destruction raced straight for Vlad.