Chapter 798: Attacked from all sides
Vlad’s eyes narrowed as the High Legend of the Zanis Family charged at him like a thunderstorm on the horizon. He could feel the oppressive weight of the man’s power—how the elemental Laws surrounding him coalesced into a singular, devastating force.
This wasn’t just a show of brute strength; it was refined, honed, and focused through decades of cultivation and mastery. And to make matters more dangerous, the spear the man wielded radiated with unmistakable divine energy. It was clearly a Divine Treasure, a weapon that amplified his already monstrous abilities to an entirely new level.
Yet, despite the overwhelming power coming his way, the True Depravita of Wrath was not afraid.
If anything, Vlad smiled.
He welcomed the intensity, the focused rage in Augustus’ eyes. That fury—that single-minded obsession—was precisely what he wanted. With a silent whisper of intent, his blade surged with the sundered force of space itself, warping the air around it. Without hesitation, he dove forward to meet his opponent head-on.
The clash was cataclysmic.
Spear met sword, and the sky itself screamed in protest. Waves of destruction rolled outward from the point of contact, shockwaves rippling through the atmosphere like thunderclaps.
The very structure of Katu Prison, a fortress built to contain monsters of legend, trembled under the might of two walking calamities. High Legends were not warriors—they were living weapons of mass destruction. Even when they exercised control, the sheer magnitude of their power left chaos in their wake.
Vlad, however, had no regard for the integrity of the fortress. His only concern was the battle.
With masterful control over his body, he twisted mid-air, pushing Augustus’ spear aside with a sweeping motion. The deflection created a narrow opening—just enough—and Vlad exploited it instantly, slamming his foot into Augustus’ chest with brutal precision.
The force of the impact sent the Zanis scion tumbling across the sky, crashing through clouds.
Augustus, however, was no novice.
He recovered mid-flight with impressive speed, flipping in the air and regaining balance almost instantly. Still, the shock in his eyes betrayed him. He was no mere warrior—he was a super powerhouse, one of the finest martial artists of the Zanis Family, trained in the art of battle since childhood. Yet the swordsmanship and physical fluidity of this white-haired foe had completely surpassed him.
But there was no time to reflect.
A flicker of warning erupted in his instincts. He spun around, spear thrusting forward as he sensed another presence materialize behind him. His weapon pierced the chest of the attacker with pinpoint accuracy. A victorious grin began to stretch across Augustus’ face—
—and froze there.
The figure that he impaled did not bleed. It shattered, like brittle glass struck by a hammer.
"A spatial copy..." Augustus muttered in disbelief.
Unlike simple illusions, spatial copies were real, physical manifestations created through mastery over the Law of Space. They were not shadows but solid constructs—each one carrying a portion of the original’s strength. They could kill.
Horror flashed across his face as he turned to see half a dozen more copies of Vlad marching toward him from every direction.
Yet even now, Augustus did not lose his composure. This was what separated High Legends from mere warriors. Despite the pressure, he stayed calm, his spear flashing like lightning, dancing between the illusions and skewering them with divine precision. Five of them were eliminated in a blink.
But the sixth reached him.
Vlad bypassed the flurry of strikes and brought its weapon down in a devastating arc. The blade erupted with space force and lightning, tearing into Augustus’ chest and launching him into the upper stratosphere, far beyond sight.
Though this exchange took several paragraphs to describe, it had transpired in less than a second. Such was the speed of combat at this level—each moment stretched across dimensions of space and time, beyond what any ordinary mind could perceive.
But Vlad had no time to celebrate.
The air trembled once more as Warden Felix and the contingent of Legends accompanying him emerged in a flash of divine radiance.
Vlad’s gaze swept over them. Each one was powerful—each one a fully-fledged Legend in their own right. Alone, none would have posed a serious threat. Together, and supported by the fortress’s automated defenses—they were a problem.
And then, he felt it.
The entire fortress stirred like a sleeping beast roused from slumber. Layers of enchantments awoke. Weapons, towers, and arcane formations locked onto him. An entire prison fortress built to withstand the might of legends now had its eyes set on the True Depravita of Wrath.
Vlad exhaled slowly and let his psychic power flood outward.
His mind blanketed the entire fortress, giving him a mental map of every movement, every building, every charge-up of arcane power. He felt the pulses of spells being prepared. He knew the trajectories before they launched.
He moved.
In the blink of an eye, he dodged a beam of pure light that erupted from below. He countered instantly—his own eyes glowing with raw energy—as he fired a searing laser at an incoming torrent of fire. Another attack came from Warden Felix himself. A massive mace came crashing toward him, but Vlad twisted mid-air and batted the weapon aside with such force that Felix spiraled backward like a broken comet.
Then came the others.
A hulking warrior approached with a towering shield. Vlad’s sword struck it head-on, unleashing a sonic boom that echoed through the fortress. Cracks spidered across the shield, and though the defender held firm, it was clear he had absorbed more than he could handle.
Next, a fusion of fire and wind formed into a swirling tornado, tearing toward Vlad. He vanished before it could reach him, teleporting a short distance away—only to materialize in the path of two synchronized swordsmen.
"A coordinated team," Vlad muttered, impressed.
These were not ordinary Legends. Their teamwork was flawless, covering each other’s openings and amplifying their strengths in unison. Still, Vlad responded with inhuman fluidity. He twisted again, redirecting the twin strikes with precise counters that forced both swordsmen to retreat under the sheer force of his blows.
But even as he repelled them, a new danger fell from above.
Augustus had returned.
He descended from the heavens like a black meteor, spear aimed at Vlad’s heart, rage burning in his eyes. But just as he prepared to counter, Vlad’s body trembled—gravity itself had turned against him. The fortress’s gravitational field surged, locking him in place.
And then he saw it.
Tens of thousands of soldiers on the ground—mages, archers, warlocks—had all taken formation. Spells glowed across the battlefield, all aimed at him.