CHAPTER 970: LORD TIER RUNIC SET

Two weeks had passed since the two fronts of the Xaos Kingdom were announced—the expedition to the Abyss under Overlord’s command, and Vlad’s mission to Valhalla.

Now, within the depths of the Runic Laboratory, the True Depravita of Wrath stood alone. His face was a portrait of exhaustion—eyes heavy, skin glistening with sweat—but behind that fatigue burned the unmistakable glimmer of triumph.

He took a long breath, and his energy began to revolve, spiraling through his meridians like a storm.

"Crown of Infinite Parallax."

At once, a runic circlet of shifting glass and cosmic metal shimmered into existence around his forehead, the symbols alive and pulsing.

"Mantle of Dimensional Threads."

A cloak wove itself from strands of silver filaments—woven directly from the threads of space itself—draping across his shoulders.

"Gauntlets of the Horizon Grip."

Runed gloves formed around his hands, each knuckle radiating a faint distortion as if grasping the edges of reality.

"Greaves of Infinite Step."

His legs became covered in armor forged from slivers of collapsing voids, runic lines crawling like veins of light.

"Sigil of the Silent Horizon."

And finally, above his eyes appeared an ethereal rune—a floating ring of light and distortion that hummed with restrained power.

Vlad exhaled slowly, steadying himself. Then, with a single thought, he connected them all.

"The Eyes of the Infinite Expanse!"

For a heartbeat, the laboratory vanished into brilliance.

The runes fused into a single Lord-Tier Runic Set of staggering power. His body became the axis of a small universe; his eyes blazed like twin stars. Quantum fluctuations and dimensional echoes unfolded before him—every rift, every tear, every pocket of warped space laid bare, as clear and detailed as the lines on his own palm.

All spatial phenomena—teleports, voids, distortions, portals—fell under his command.

For that brief instant, space ceased to be a medium. It became a tool.

But the glory lasted barely half a second.

The energy drain was enormous. The formation destabilized, collapsing in a burst of silver mist. Vlad nearly fell to his knees, breath ragged and aura flickering. Yet through his fatigue, a grin spread across his face. Blood dripped from the corner of his lips, but his smile did not fade.

"It works," he murmured. "Not for me alone—but for when I merge with the others."

The runic system was not meant for a single body. It was built for the Absolute True Depravita Form—the fusion of all True Depravitas. Once activated in that state, its potential would be limitless.

Vlad steadied himself, wiping the blood from his mouth as he studied the faint afterglow of the runes.

"With the spatial precision of my Seal of Sin," he muttered, "combined with this Lord-Tier Runic Set... I’ll not only move faster and strike harder, but the Quantum Expanse will evolve as well. Intangibility will last longer, and cooldown time will shorten."

A wide, satisfied smile spread across his face as he felt his control expand.

The Quantum Expanse had already proven invaluable—it had allowed him to stand against Sacred King Barbatos of the Vorometallicae Race, to ignore attacks that could vaporize continents, and to strike from dimensions beyond reach. Now, it would grow even stronger.

With the experiment complete, Vlad allowed himself a rare moment of calm. His breathing steadied, his pulse slowed, and he summoned the diagnostic interface of the A.I. Chip embedded within his soul.

A metallic chime echoed through the room.

[Beep! Initiating Host Scan...

Name: Vlad Xaos

Race: True Depravita

Class: True Sun Depravita

Energy Level: 29 → 34 (Superior Legend)

Body Level: 34 → 38 (Lord)

Life Level: Lord Tier

Lineage: Destruction Sun Devil (Lord Tier)

...

Stats:

Strength: 89.2 → 337

Agility: 79.1 → 300

Vitality: 100.4 → 411

Energy Pool (Depravita Aura): 31.2 → 86.6

Soul Force: 36.7 → 92.5

...

Seal of Sin: Soul of Wrath

...

Racial Skills:

Will of Wrath

Eyes of Wrath

...

Gifts:

Depravita Samsara Typhoon

Quantum Expanse]

Vlad’s grin widened as the data scrolled before him. The surge in his stats was staggering—a physical manifestation of years of struggle, battle, and sacrifice.

The last time he had performed a full analysis was back when he first set foot on the Third Layer of Hell. In the short time since, his power had multiplied exponentially.

Of course, he knew this meteoric rise had come at a price. He and the other True Depravitas had devoured the Origin Power of entire Sectors of Hell, consuming the life essence of the realm without hesitation.

Vlad exhaled, then finally allowed his body to collapse backward onto the cold metallic floor. His consciousness faded into sleep—a brief, much-needed reprieve.

Even gods needed rest.

Six hours later, his eyes opened. The exhaustion had vanished, replaced by sharp focus and renewed vigor. Power flowed through his body like a river of molten light.

With a single thought, he teleported out of the laboratory and into another chamber—a vast forge filled with weapons, alchemical devices, and the smell of molten plasma.

In the center of the room stood a small yellow cat. Jormungandr was wholly focused on the pulsing sphere of plasma floating before him.

The cat did not acknowledge Vlad’s arrival. His sharp eyes were locked onto the glowing mass, which pulsed with waves of deathly aura and spatial distortion.

Vlad remained silent, knowing better than to interrupt him.

Minutes passed before the plasma began to stabilize, its brilliance dimming as the shape within grew more defined.

When the light faded completely, a sword rested in its place—neither long nor short, perfectly balanced. The air around it vibrated with the Laws of Space, while the faint chill of Death lingered within its edge.

The blade’s surface glowed faintly with a fiery hue reminiscent of molten metal—an echo of its origin.

After all, its core components were the severed arm and leg of Barbatos, the Sacred King of the Vorometallicae.

The sword landed softly on the worktable with a hiss of cooling energy. Only then did Jormungandr finally turn his gaze toward Vlad. A small, satisfied smile curled across the cat’s lips as he gestured toward the weapon.

"Test it."

Vlad grasped the hilt. The moment he did, a rush of resonance surged through him. The weapon sang to his soul, aligning perfectly with his dominion over the Law of Space and the burning essence of his Devil Lord Bloodline.

He swung it once—and the air itself rippled, folding and reforming in a heartbeat. The blade felt weightless, an extension of his will.

A brilliant grin broke across his face.

"Perfect."