CHAPTER 841: THIS WAS JUST A TEST

Thanks to the addition of the True Depravita of Wrath, the Xaos Forces received a tremendous boost in battle power. With this newfound strength, they overwhelmed the monstrous creatures that had threatened their position, slaughtering them by the thousands despite the creatures’ enhanced power.

In less than ten minutes, the battlefield was clear. Not a single enemy was left standing. Blood rained across the icy walls and floor of the battleground, creating rivers of crimson that froze upon contact with the cold surface. The corrosive toxins of some of the abominations seeped into the ground, melting through layers of ice and stone. It was a gruesome, almost apocalyptic sight.

But in the end, the Xaos Kingdom stood victorious.

The enemy had been vanquished, their grotesque bodies torn apart and scattered across the terrain. Yet, victory did not come without cost. Despite their overwhelming strength, the Xaos forces had suffered heavily. Hundreds of their soldiers had perished in the clash.

There was no celebration—only silence and grief. Everyone present understood that casualties were a part of war, an inevitability that came with every march to battle. Still, knowing that did little to dull the pain of seeing the bodies of comrades, friends, and brothers-in-arms lying lifeless beside them.

In the sky above the battlefield, Vlad hovered with Jormungandr perched on his shoulder. His stance was firm and commanding, his presence radiating a power so immense that it seemed as though he could carry the weight of entire worlds on his shoulders. His aura exuded unwavering confidence, offering comfort and stability to the soldiers below. Despite the tragic losses, they still looked to him as a pillar of strength.

Yet even the True Depravita of Wrath was troubled.

Atila clearly came from the same power that was silently infecting the Greacia Empire. They were supposed to be contained within the Zanis Homeworld, their avatar being the Zanis Patriarch, but it seemed that their influence had expanded.

Vlad had no idea how many more like him might be lurking or if reinforcements were on the way. The situation raised far more questions than answers, and the unknown weighed heavily on his mind.

Still, Vlad showed none of his doubt. It was the duty of a commander to appear composed, even when uncertain. A leader had to exude certainty and confidence so that the troops could march forward with focus and determination. Doubt was a disease on the battlefield—one that could kill morale faster than any enemy blade.

"Tend the wounded and recover the corpses of our comrades," Vlad commanded, his voice steady and resolute.

The Royal Guards moved swiftly, issuing orders to the troops below. Despite the chaos of battle, the Xaos soldiers were well-trained, disciplined, and efficient. Within moments, medics had stabilized those suffering from dangerous wounds, while others began collecting the bodies of the fallen. Each corpse was handled with care and reverence before being secured within spatial rings for later burial or ceremonial rites.

Once their own were accounted for, attention shifted to the Reapers. Even shattered and broken, their corpses held immense value. Even death, they were still rich sources of biomass, fuel for the Thiamatos Obelisk.

But when it came to the strange creatures they had fought, the situation was different. Unlike the Reapers, these creatures did not hold their form after death. Their flesh began to degrade almost immediately, transforming into thick black goo that slowly lost cohesion. Whatever they had been, they were not made of anything stable or natural.

"Collect everything," Vlad’s voice boomed from the sky, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The soldiers obeyed without hesitation, sweeping across the field and gathering whatever remnants remained. Though the black goo seemed devoid of useful energy or biological material, it was better to keep samples for analysis. Understanding their enemy was key to survival.

The cold gaze of the True Depravita of Wrath fell upon the gooey remains of the creatures.

"You want to examine them?" asked the small yellow cat.

"I don’t see much value in these remains," Jormungandr continued. "The goo has already lost all energetic and chemical properties. My chip detects nothing that could give us insight into their origin."

Vlad stared at Jormungandr for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"Maybe we won’t learn anything," he said quietly, "but Overlord might have better luck. It’s important to know whether these creatures are alien entities... or if there’s a far darker secret behind their origin."

Jormungandr narrowed his eyes and nodded. The two True Depravitas remained suspended in the sky, their auras gently pulsing. Their energies slowly replenished, but they stayed on high alert. The experience with Atila had proven one thing without doubt: Exilon had become a dangerous, unpredictable world. No longer could they roam freely. One wrong step could unravel everything they had fought so hard to build.

...

Far away from the Antarctic continent stood Orfry.

His aura pulsed with raw power—so intense it seemed capable of evaporating oceans and setting the sky ablaze. He stood at the edge of a vast cliff, gazing upon a distant city. A small, satisfied smile curved his lips. But just as he prepared to move forward, he turned around, sensing a disturbance.

Hundreds of small, grotesque creatures were flying toward him, like a swarm of insects. Within moments, they arrived and began to converge, reshaping and reforming into a humanoid figure—Atila.

Of course, due to Vlad’s devastating attack earlier, Atila had lost a significant amount of his power. Nearly half of the creatures that made up his form had been incinerated. As a result, his strength had diminished drastically. Though still formidable, he now stood only slightly stronger than a typical Legend-class being.

Atila knelt before Orfry, lowering his head in submission.

"I have been defeated," he stated without emotion.

Orfry regarded him calmly and nodded. "I know. Don’t worry. This was just a test—to gauge their strength. Next time, we’ll test their weaknesses."

Atila said nothing, merely nodding again.

"Return now and prepare. I will summon you when the time is right."

Without warning, Ofry’s body morphed into a massive, horrific mass of flesh, eyes, and maws, devouring Atila in an instant. Orfry then returned to his humanoid form, his composure unshaken.

"Now... where were we?" he murmured with a grin, turning his gaze back to the distant city.

He began walking forward, his steps steady and unhurried, the air around him crackling with impending doom.