Chapter 779: The Emperor’s test
After greeting Vlad warmly, Janus turned to the rest of the Depravitas with a broad smile and eyes full of camaraderie. Each of them had stood together on the battlefield, shedding blood and enduring pain during the war against the Vorometallics of the Voidheart Stronghold.
There was no stronger bond than one forged in battle. Brotherhood like that could never be faked—it was carved into the soul through shared hardship.
Only after acknowledging the True Depravitas did Janus turn his attention to Freya. He clasped his hands respectfully and performed a graceful bow.
"I salute the Queen of the Xoas Kingdom," he said with earnestness in his tone. "Your beauty is as majestic as the tales declare. I now understand why Brother Vlad risked everything to save you."
Freya observed him quietly for a moment. His words, while a bit unpolished, carried sincerity. Most importantly, she sensed no lust or ill intent behind them—only respect. A smile broke across her lips as she returned the courtesy with a graceful nod.
"Brother Janus, it’s good to see you," she replied. "But may I ask, why were you waiting here for us?"
Vlad’s expression grew more serious as he stepped forward, concern flickering in his eyes. A sudden thought crossed his mind—had something happened on Terra while he’d been away?
Janus caught the look and immediately raised both hands in reassurance. "Please, don’t worry. Everything is fine. Actually, Father wishes to meet with you. He had intended to send someone else to welcome you, but I requested the honor myself, and he granted it."
At that, Vlad visibly relaxed. However, a solemn light returned to his eyes a moment later as a question came to mind.
"Does he already know what happened in Valhalla?"
The Tournament of Destiny had ended less than three days ago, culminating in Vlad’s battle with the Half-Step Lord, Octavio. Even though Valhalla was a strategic partner of the Graecia Empire, the sheer distance between the two made it hard to believe that news of the event could have traveled so quickly.
Then again, it didn’t really matter. Vlad needed to speak with the Emperor regardless, and if Alexandro already knew, that would only make the conversation more direct.
"Very well," Vlad said. "Please guide us to your father."
Janus nodded without hesitation, and together they began the ascent to the highest kingdom in the sky—Constantinopla’s imperial core.
Under Janus’s guidance, the group passed through the towering celestial gates of the palace and entered the grand throne room. It was the first time Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir had seen Emperor Alexandro in person.
As they stepped forward, a collective silence fell upon them.
It was as if time itself slowed.
The immense pressure in the chamber was staggering. The Emperor’s mere presence radiated the majesty of a cosmic phenomenon in human form—a being who could devastate worlds and burn galaxies. Even Vlad, who had met him before, felt humbled anew.
Fortunately, Alexandro had concealed the true weight of his aura, allowing them to walk forward without being crushed by it.
He was not alone. On his right stood Marshal Maximo, his posture rigid as ever, with a small smile on his face as he glanced at the Depravitas.
On the Emperor’s left was a figure cloaked entirely in a dark robe, face hidden, gender indistinguishable. The shroud of secrecy surrounding the figure gave off a strange unease, as though even attempting to observe them directly would lead to madness.
Janus and the Depravitas walked forward until they were precisely one hundred meters from the Emperor. Then, Alexandro raised his hand, and they halted.
The Emperor’s sharp, golden eyes scanned the group slowly. When his gaze fell on Freya, he paused. But rather than admiring her beauty, his attention was drawn to the mystical totems that adorned her body—symbols of immense and ancient power. After a moment, he gave a subtle nod of recognition.
"What we discuss here today," Alexandro said, his voice deep and resonant, "is of the utmost secrecy. Aside from Vlad, the rest of you must leave—unless you are prepared to test your strength."
Freya, Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir all stiffened at once, their expressions sharpening into fierce determination. None of them took a single step back.
Janus, too, clenched his fist, his stance sharpening like a drawn blade. He stood tall, unwavering.
"Very well," Alexandro replied simply.
Without further warning, the Emperor raised a single finger and pointed at the group. In the next moment, five massive spheres of white flame erupted from his hand—each one pulsing with cataclysmic energy. These were not mere threats. Each sphere could annihilate a Legend in an instant.
But the Depravitas were not so easily cowed.
Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir exploded with power, their Depravita Stars roaring to life and unleashing an ocean of psychic power. They unleashed their cultivation’s full might to not only endure the assault—but to counter it.
Jormungandr, the yellow cat, summoned a colossal serpent of lightning full of life, its radiant coils crackling with divine fury as it smashed head-on into the burning sphere.
Ouroboros, the white werewolf, erupted in an aura of dark, destructive energy. He met the incoming sphere with a barrage of flame-infused punches, each strike causing sonic booms that shook the palace walls.
Fafnir, the light-fire dragon, roared as he opened his jaws and released a swirling vortex of plasma—a spiraling inferno that clashed directly with the Emperor’s attack in a blaze of celestial fire.
Freya stepped forward last. Calm and resolute, she extended her hand and summoned her rusted sword. The ancient blade shimmered with an ethereal copper glow as she swung it in a graceful arc. A brilliant crescent of light shot forth, imbued with a coppery force capable of shattering even divine constructs.
The entire chamber lit up with chaotic beauty.
Explosions of white flame met with arcs of lightning, torrents of plasma, and blazing fists in a majestic, apocalyptic dance. The very air crackled with raw force. Shards of pure energy splintered across the throne room, yet not a single soul flinched.