CHAPTER 741: DEPRAVITA TELEPORTATION

Everyone watched in stunned silence as the immense energy cannon reached Vlad’s figure, engulfing him in blinding golden fire. The beam surged upward, climbing higher and higher, consuming the sky as it ascended.

It was the most powerful spell the Superior Legend Angel could unleash—one that drew from his very life force to fuel its cataclysmic might.

The attack didn’t stop at the planet’s edge.

It pierced through the upper atmosphere, tearing into the void between worlds, leaving a trail of divine destruction in its wake. The sheer scale of it left even the High Legends speechless.

Many had expected the angel to fall under Vlad’s overwhelming power, but instead, the wounded and enraged celestial had managed to fire one last, world-breaking spell.

It was a reminder that when titans clash with their lives on the line, nothing is guaranteed—not until one lies dead and the other stands victorious.

The beam lasted several seconds before it finally dimmed, the flames slowly dissipating into the sky like fading embers.

Silence followed.

There was no sign of Vlad.

The air was still, the clouds eerily quiet. Not even a whisper of energy remained in the beam’s trajectory.

"Did he... really die?" one of the High Legends muttered.

The others exchanged uncertain glances. For all of Vlad’s strength, that final attack had been transcendent—the kind of spell that could reduce entire armies to ash.

Then, a sound broke the silence.

"Hahahahahaha!"

Laughter echoed from the crater below, dry and blood-filled. The Superior Legend Angel stood, trembling, his body bleeding profusely and covered in horrific wounds. His wings were torn and his divine armor burned nearly to nothing, but his eyes gleamed with vicious satisfaction.

He had done it.

He had burned away a part of his soul, spent his divine essence, and used every ounce of power he possessed—but he had won. The young Depravita, as terrifying as he was, had finally fallen.

Or so he thought.

"ZNNNN!"

A sundering sound echoed. Then, from behind, a hand pierced straight through the angel’s back, cracking his spine and bursting from his chest, soaked in divine blood.

His body froze. His mouth opened, releasing a stream of blood.

He turned his head slowly—horrified—and saw the one face he never wanted to see again.

Vlad.

Unharmed. Smiling coldly.

"Don’t worry," Vlad said, his voice calm and razor-sharp. "You won’t die. Overlord has plenty of uses for your kind."

The words sent a shiver through the angel’s soul. For the first time, he experienced true fear—not fear of pain, but of what might happen next. A primal terror rooted in the knowledge that he had lost. That he was nothing more than a tool now, his fate no longer his own.

In a last desperate moment, he considered self-destruction. He began to gather what little energy he had left.

But Vlad was faster.

His psychic power surged into the angel’s body, flooding every cell, piercing into his very soul, sealing his core and shutting down his energy flow. In seconds, he was paralyzed—helpless.

Still impaled on Vlad’s arm, the angel was dragged upward into the sky.

The True Depravita of Wrath rose slowly, silently, with death in his eyes. The wind howled around him. His aura blazed with storms. His gaze swept across the High Legends, who stood frozen above the capital of the Xaos Kingdom.

Vlad’s mind was calm, but focused.

He wasn’t thinking about the angel anymore. His thoughts had shifted—to the technique he had just used.

The teleportation hadn’t been conventional. He hadn’t simply moved through space. No—he had used the angel’s hatred and rage, the very essence of his fury, as a gateway. A loophole through divine defenses. He had moved through emotion, bypassing all physical and spiritual barriers.

"Depravita Teleportation," he thought, and smiled.

A new weapon. A new ability.

Without another word, he hurled the broken body of the Superior Legend toward the Xaos Tower. As it reached the spire, it vanished—absorbed into its structure by Overlord’s power.

Then Vlad turned.

With slow, deliberate steps, he floated toward the High Legends. The sky darkened with his approach, storm clouds forming around him like a living crown.

"You were summoned," he said coldly, his voice echoing like thunder, "to pay the ransom for your reckless subordinates who dared to invade my world."

The words hit like a hammer.

The High Legends lowered their heads. Vlad’s tone left no room for discussion. He was not a negotiator. He was not a diplomat. He was the executioner, and they were standing before the gallows.

"Where," he continued, "is the payment?"

The High Legends exchanged glances, their faces stiff with unease. None of them had planned for this. They had come assuming they would be victorious, or at the very least that they could negotiate their way out of the mess.

But now... they weren’t sure. If they refused to pay, not only would their juniors remain trapped, they themselves might be killed.

Before anyone could respond, the space beyond Terra trembled again.

Two new figures arrived.

One was a middle-aged man with short black hair and piercing eyes, clad in white armor. A massive, rusted greatsword hung on his back, but despite its decayed appearance, it pulsed with ancient power—power so vast it made the very chaotic energies of the void tremble.

Beside him floated a massive obsidian dragon, his wings casting shadows large enough to darken entire continents. His mere presence distorted gravity, warping the space around it with the weight of its existence.

The High Legends stiffened.

These two were elders—one from the Graecia Empire, the other from the Draconic Sovereigns, both Superior Legends... and stronger than the angel who had just fallen.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed, but his expression remained calm.

He was injured. His reserves were stretched thin. A direct clash now... would be dangerous.

And yet, he didn’t back down.

The towers inside the Xaos City glowed with more and more power, preparing for anything that might happen, ready to protect the people inside from a prolonged fight.