Chapter 895: A taboo in Hell
Two figures clashed in the infernal sky.
One was a towering colossus, over forty meters tall, each movement tearing through the air like an avalanche. The other, by comparison, was not even four meters in height, yet his presence was no less overwhelming. Sword and bone-covered fists collided every second, shaking the highest sky with a storm of destruction.
The longer they fought, the fiercer the battle became. Rings of explosions spread outward, painting the sky with burning flames and rivers of dark fire. Massive clouds of ruin unfurled across countless kilometers, each strike unleashing devastation greater than the fury of nuclear arsenals. Yet the Third Layer of Hell endured without a problem.
This was no ordinary realm. Its Laws were older and far stronger than those of Graecia or even Valhalla. This was a super-realm where destruction was as natural as breath. For a battle to do even the slightest harm to the Laws and fabric of reality in Hell, it needed to be at the Lord Tier, and even then, the damage would be minimal.
The land itself, forged from torment and sin, absorbed the cataclysm without faltering, allowing the True Depravita and Devil to fight without restraint.
Vlad’s eyes sharpened as he swung his blade again, his strikes growing ever surer. A small smile tugged at his lips each time the weapon met flesh, for he could feel the difference. His strength had grown so immense of late that his old sword had become a liability, threatening to shatter beneath the weight of his wrath. But this weapon—once belonging to the Devil Lord Acrox—was no ordinary blade.
It was perfectly attuned to his new devil bloodline, drinking deep from the ocean of dark flames within him. With every swing, the weapon howled, channeling his psychic power and death into slashes that cleaved reality itself.
As the duel wore on, Vlad adapted. Loatan was powerful—brutally so—but his technique lacked refinement. His style relied heavily on brute strength, his fists battering forward like meteors. To many, such savagery was unstoppable. But to the True Depravita of Wrath, whose battle skills surpassed those of Lords, it was a weakness to exploit.
The battle reached its zenith when Loatan’s body ignited. His entire form erupted in radiant infernal fire, so intense it evaporated rivers and seas across his Sector. The flames remade him into a burning titan, every vein alight with molten fury. All that power surged into his right fist.
The Sector Master threw everything he had into the strike, the weight of his body and soul condensed into one killing blow.
Vlad’s eyes narrowed. To him, it was as if an apocalyptic solar flare had been unleashed. The attack carried not only raw power but a devouring force that latched onto his body, anchoring him in place. The world itself seemed to conspire to keep him still, to make escape impossible.
And yet, in that final instant, Vlad smiled.
For the first time since the battle began, he drew upon the Law of Space.
Loatan’s eyes widened in shock. The aura of that Law was impossibly pure, far beyond what a young devil should command. But he had no time to dwell on it. Space warped, and Vlad slipped free of the devouring force, flickering out of its grasp.
The titanic fist slammed into empty air.
And Vlad was already in motion.
The power of the Devil Lord bloodline surged, feeding his wrath. Dark flames coiled around the edge of his sword, a tempest of annihilation. His muscles bulged, every fiber of his being pushed to its limit, as he unleashed a counterstrike with all the force of his existence.
"ZNNNNNNNNN!"
The sound of rending flesh and snapping bone echoed through the void. Vlad’s blade carved through Loatan’s massive arm, cleaving from wrist to shoulder, nearly bisecting it.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The Sector Master’s scream shook the heavens. His arm split open, torrents of molten blood pouring like rivers of lava. But worse than the wound itself were the flames. Vlad’s black fire crawled through his flesh, withering it, eroding all it touched.
Vlad pressed his advantage without mercy. Strike after strike fell, his sword hacking at the giant’s defenses. With only his left arm remaining, Loatan could do little but reel backward, his body splitting under the relentless assault.
From the distance, countless Devils watched with unblinking eyes. Whispers spread, their gazes burning with anticipation. It seemed inevitable. A new Sector Master was about to be crowned.
But then... madness flared.
Loatan’s eyes glowed with determination and a flash of lunacy.
"Don’t you dare look down on me, you little bastard!"
His roar cracked the air. And then the entire Sector trembled.
The Origin Force of the Sector surged. It flooded into Loatan’s body like a tidal wave, his wounds mending as his flesh swelled with unnatural strength. His form grew larger still, muscles bulging monstrously, infernal energy blazing like an ocean of fire. The severed arm reknit itself, bones and sinew restored by sheer force of devoured essence.
The Devils watching froze.
They understood at once what he had done.
A Sector Master could indeed channel the Origin Force through the Infernal Monolith—but not like this. Loatan was not simply drawing upon its strength. He was devouring it. Ripping it apart.
It was taboo, a crime even among Devils. To consume the Origin Force of one’s own Sector was to strip it bare, weakening its foundation and diminishing the very quality of energy within. Every Devil who cultivated here would suffer, their future crippled.
But Loatan did not care.
Animosity, hatred, rebellion from those beneath him—none of it mattered. What was the anger of countless Devils compared to his own survival? He would not fall, not here, not now.
In less than three seconds, the Origin Force restored him to his peak and then pushed him beyond it. His aura swelled to its utmost limit, pressing into the peak of the Half-Lord Tier.
Loatan threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming like thunder.
"HAHAHAHAHA! Time for round two, you little shit!"