CHAPTER 971: THE JOURNEY TO ABYSS

"I call it Soul Blade," Jormungandr said proudly, his feline eyes glowing. "Forged from the arm and leg of Barbatos, along with nearly half the resources we gathered during our journey through Hell and the Primordial God’s Tomb. It is my greatest creation—one that can enhance your form, even after you fuse with the rest of us."

Jormungandr’s tail swayed lazily, though the pride in his tone was unmistakable, as this creation made him one of the Universe’s foremost alchemists.

"By channeling your Laws of Space and Law of Death through it," the small yellow cat continued, "you’ll be able to let your psychic energy bypass any material defense. Even the slightest cut will reach directly into your enemy’s soul—turning a scratch into a dire wound."

Vlad’s lips curved into a smile.

"Perfect," he said. "With this, our next journey will have one more layer of security. You’ve done well, Jormungandr."

The cat’s ears perked with satisfaction. With a soft yawn, he leapt from the workbench and landed on Vlad’s shoulder, curling up instantly as if the compliment itself had drained him of energy. Within seconds, he was asleep, purring softly.

Vlad chuckled under his breath, brushing a hand along the tiny creature’s back.

Then, with a flash of energy, he vanished from the forge.

He moved through the capital, gathering the other True Depravitas. One by one, they joined him until the full assembly stood in the skies above the Xaos Tower.

There, waiting stood Overlord. The Archangel’s wings extended like blades of light, his expression calm, his aura vast and peaceful.

When Vlad arrived, Overlord inclined his head in greeting, then lifted a large obsidian box inscribed with golden sigils.

"The treasures you requested, Prime Master," he said simply.

Vlad accepted the box with a smile, but soon his attention drifted past Overlord to the ground far below.

There, at the base of the tower, stood a massive formation of soldiers.

Nearly a thousand strong, each radiated an aura so intense it warped the air.

Their black power armor gleamed under the crimson skies—gothic, angular, and adorned with infernal sigils. Chains draped across their chests, skull emblems crowned their waists, and faint red light flickered from their helm visors like the glow of burning coals. Sparks of embers rose around them, painting a vision of both dread and divine strength.

Their armor and the bloodline aura they irradiated made them look less like man and more like a Legion from Hell, summoned to wage war in the name of Xaos.

Yet beneath that menacing appearance, Vlad could sense more. His psychic perception pierced through the armor, revealing the intricate genetic and alchemical modifications that Overlord had made. Each soldier carried a fragment of Depravita essence.

They were more than humans; they were Nightmare Knights. Their evolution made them faster, stronger, and almost immune to toxins, curses, or demonic corruption.

Vlad’s chest swelled with grim pride. These warriors would march into the Abyss itself, facing horrors that could shatter worlds. Not all would return, that much was certain. But each had been given the best—the finest armor, weapons, bloodlines, and training the Kingdom could offer. Those who survived would become legends.

As Vlad’s gaze swept over them, he felt their eyes turn upward toward him.

The entire battalion dropped to one knee in unison, their voices silent but their hearts blazing with reverence. To them, Vlad Xaos was not merely a king—he was a god, a being who had walked through Hell and slain its Lords.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, raising his right arm, he let his aura surge. The sky darkened, clouds twisting into a storm of black and scarlet. Thunder rumbled like the roar of creation itself.

"For our home," Vlad said, his voice deep and commanding, carrying across the heavens.

"For our families. For our brothers and sisters in battle. For the Xaos Kingdom!"

A moment of silence—then a deafening chorus erupted from below.

"For the Xaos Kingdom! For the Xaos Kingdom! For the Xaos Kingdom!"

The chant grew louder, shaking the ground, echoing across continents. Energy flared from the soldiers as their devotion and determination became tangible, merging into a single, unified pulse that lit the skies above Xaos.

They did not fight for conquest, or for the vanity of kings. They fought for survival—for the chance to grow stronger, to protect what they loved, and to ensure that their world would never fall to the darkness beyond the stars.

Overlord watched silently, expression neutral, but within his artificial mind, he recognized the power of what he witnessed.

Emotion was inefficient—but it was also unstoppable.

It drove people to transcend their limits, to rise again and again even when logic declared defeat. And so, for a brief instant, a small smile touched his lips.

When the chant finally subsided, Overlord’s eyes flared with azure light, and his voice resonated through the neural links of every soldier present.

"Embark."

As one, the nine hundred and ninety-nine Nightmare Knights moved. Their formations shifted seamlessly, boots striking the steel decks of the warships waiting nearby. Massive battleships, dark and angular, rose from the hangars beneath Xaos Tower, engines roaring like ancient dragons.

Instead of teleportation arrays, Overlord had chosen a different method—real travel, through the old interdimensional pathways that connected Hell to the Abyss. The ships would absorb the essence of Hell itself as they passed through, perfecting their disguise. None would suspect that this "infernal invasion" came not from the Devils, but from Xaos.

When the last of the fleet was ready, Overlord turned toward Vlad.

"Until we meet again, Prime Master."

"May your hunt be victorious," Vlad replied.

Overlord gave a single, solemn nod before ascending to the flagship. As his form merged with the ship’s core, the engines ignited. One by one, the great vessels lifted into the sky, their trails distorting space. Within seconds, they vanished into the void—an armada of black flame and steel, moving faster than light.

Vlad watched until the last trace of their presence disappeared, then turned toward Freya, Jormungandr, Fafnir, and Ouroboros.

No words were needed. They all understood.

Together, they activated the Interstellar Teleportation Formation. Power surged through the construct, the very planet trembling under the strain.

In a flash of silver light, they vanished.

Moments later, they reappeared in the endless void between stars. Before them hung a vast world—a realm of shining citadels, floating mountains, and rivers of golden mist.

Valhalla.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed as a chill of instinct rippled through him. Every fiber of his being screamed in warning.

Whatever awaited them within that world would not welcome them kindly.

But they had not come for peace.

His companions’ eyes glowed with resolve.

They would not leave until they uncovered the truth—and put a face to the ones who needed to die.