Chapter 890: March into Hell
Book 10 - Lord of Hell
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Vlad stood in the Void Between Worlds, his eyes cold as he gazed upon the Zanis Homeworld. The once-impenetrable shield that had guarded the planet—blocking all teleportation and warding off entire fleets—was gone, shattered in the wake of Graecia’s assault. Through the rifted skies, soldiers of the Empire now marched across the surface, expanding their foothold step by step.
But victory was far from secure.
Where the monstrous claw had torn itself free, a new barrier had arisen. A massive scarlet force field now covered nearly a third of the planet’s landmass, pulsing with alien power. Its core was the very site where that colossal hand had emerged. Unlike the earlier defenses, this barrier was not a construct of formations or satellites. Its power came from something far more terrible—the life of the planet itself.
Vlad narrowed his eyes. Sacrificing a world’s vitality to raise such a shield made little sense. After all, what use was there in protecting a world if you were killing it? But the answer became clear the more he thought about it.
The Zanis Homeworld was not really important. Not for Pompeyo.
No—the Patriarch had been buying time, feeding his world’s essence to help the monstrous entity that had nearly slain Vlad in a single grasp. The planet itself had become a cocoon, nurturing something that should never have been allowed into the universe.
The Graecian Empire did not yet understand the full truth. But one thing was certain: whatever was stirring had to be stopped.
Vlad’s instincts screamed at him, telling him to charge into that scarlet barrier and end whatever ritual was unfolding. But when he glanced at his own body, his fists clenched, his frown deepened.
He was not ready.
Though he had ended his fusion with Freya and the others just in time to avoid catastrophic collapse, the strain had left him broken. His body and soul trembled in a fragile state. His battle strength was diminished by nearly a third, and the Samsara Typhon would remain unusable for a long while.
"If I could retain that form for a long time without backlash, we could organize a full power attack against the force field, drain its defenses, and then break into the world."
Vlad could not help but feel frustrated at the lack of strength before finally releasing a long sigh.
They had won the War Among the Stars in record time and with very few casualties. He himself had killed a Devil Lord—an achievement that would be sung across the entire universe and would bring fame. Yet all he felt now was worry, and a crushing sense of urgency.
Those emotions weighed upon him like a mountain. And worst of all, there was no path forward. No light in the tunnel. Only the certainty that, unless they found a way, the darkness would rise again and consume them all.
Suddenly, the glow of his space ring broke his brooding. Vlad turned toward the White Blade, the imperial flagship.
It had been seven days since the battle. Seven days since the scarlet field rose and the White Death vanished, declaring he would search for a way to break their deadlock. Not wasting another moment, Vlad flashed into the warship.
The corridors bustled with activity as he strode through until he arrived at the Grand Assembly Hall. The chamber was already packed, filled with the mightiest factions of Graecia. As Vlad entered, silence fell. Countless eyes turned toward him—eyes filled with awe, fear, and respect.
Power demanded respect. And even if it had been only for a few seconds, Vlad had touched a might that neared the White Death himself. That memory was engraved in all of their minds.
He offered a short nod to the assembled leaders and quietly took his place among the Xaos Kingdom’s delegation.
At the head of the hall, the White Death surveyed them all. His gaze was sharp, cutting through the tension. At last, he inclined his head slightly and spoke. His voice was low, but it carried to every corner, heavy with solemn resolve.
"You all saw that monstrous arm. You understand the true nature of our enemy."
Murmurs rippled, but none dared interrupt.
"Pompeyo, and the entire Zanis Family, are pawns. Proxies. That entity uses them as its hands, and it is using the Zanis Homeworld as a gateway into our universe. How it plans to cross fully, I do not yet know. Nor do we know how long it will take."
The faces of the assembly darkened. Fear weighed upon them, dragging their spirits into silence.
But then the White Death’s tone hardened, and his next words struck like a spear of hope.
"What we do know is how to break the force field protecting the heart of the Zanis Homeworld."
Gasps escaped the warriors present. A surge of energy coursed through the hall—thrill, relief, hope. Every ear strained for the answer.
The White Death did not keep them waiting.
"By calling upon the full might of the Empire, and spending countless favors, I have uncovered the truth. There is a portal to Hell within the heart of the Zanis Homeworld."
Shock swept the chamber.
At last, the pieces aligned. Teleporting hundreds of Devil Legends into a world would have left immense traces, easily detectable. Yet the Devils had appeared in force, in secret. The answer was now clear—they had not been summoned from afar. They had simply walked through.
Such portals were the most dangerous of gateways. Once opened, they could rarely be sealed. Through them, the forces of Hell could march at will, turning allies into betrayers, burning worlds from within.
However, as those thoughts crossed the mind of the people in the chamber, a flash of enlightenment crossed their eyes as an idea arose, one that could be the answer to all their problems.
One by one, the warriors turned their eyes to the White Death, searching for confirmation. He met their gazes and solemnly nodded.
"The mission is simple."
A pause. The weight of inevitability hung upon them all.
"March into Hell."