Chapter 882: The war in the void has begun
Pompeyo’s gaze fixed upon the White Death. His eyes were cold, merciless, and full of brutality as the Origin Force of the Zanís homeworld surged into his body. His aura radiated power greater than a sun, searing and oppressive, bending the void around him with its intensity.
He regarded Altharion as if the Crown Prince were beneath him, not even worth his notice. For a moment, however, his eyes drifted toward Vlad. An inquisitive glimmer flickered there, as though weighing the younger man’s worth, before his focus returned to Alexandro.
"Alexandro," Pompeyo’s voice thundered across the void, deep and commanding, "are you certain you want to do this? At this moment?"
The White Death’s eyes were not merely cold—they were absolute. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his soul. His reply was carved in steel.
"This is the only path for traitors," he said, voice cutting like a blade. "The destruction of your entire bloodline. The erasure of your existence and legacy from the universe."
Pompeyo’s expression hardened, but his composure never faltered.
"You have already taken all the worlds I ruled for millennia," he countered, his tone heavy with restrained fury. "You have slaughtered hundreds of millions of my people in your quest. That should be retribution enough."
He did not bother denying the charge of betrayal. There was no point wasting breath on such things. He moved straight to negotiation.
"Even if you win this war," Pompeyo continued, "your victory will be Pyrrhic. The Graecia Empire will be left wounded, a shell of its former self. Allow me to depart with my world, and in return, I will hand you the Zanis Association—every contact, every partner, every interstellar trade route. They will be yours."
The White Death remained silent, unreadable. Interpreting the silence as interest, Pompeyo pressed on.
"I will also give you one hundred pure-blooded members of the Zanis family. You may execute them publicly, display your might before the empire, and prove that none may defy you."
Vlad’s eyes narrowed. The cold pragmatism of Pompeyo’s words sent a chill through him. To offer his own kin as bargaining chips... it was monstrous, yet disturbingly logical. Still, Vlad did not speak. This was not his war to decide. Only Alexandro could answer.
The White Death regarded Pompeyo for a long moment. Then he sighed softly.
"Ah, Pompeyo. Ever the negotiator," he said almost wistfully. "It is true, this victory will come at a great cost. The destruction of the Zanis Association will indeed hinder the empire’s wealth."
Pompeyo’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles—until he felt it.
A killing intent so absolute erupted from the White Death that the void itself seemed to freeze.
"However," Alexandro’s voice now carried the weight of inevitability, "when I choose a path, I follow it to the end. And the very fact that you seek to delay our entry into your world only makes me wish to reach it faster."
Pompeyo’s eyes widened. As he heard those last words, his heart trembled. Then, with a roar, he unleashed his full might. His aura exploded outward, twisting space-time around him as though he were the heart of a black hole.
The artificial lifeforms responded in kind, muscles bulging, skin glowing, their strength multiplying exponentially as blood thundered through their bodies. The Devil Lord sighed, his expression one of weary annoyance, but tightened his grip on his greatsword. Dark fire erupted along its blade, embodying death itself.
The White Death focused only on Pompeyo. The patriarch of the Zanis Family was his opponent alone. That left the battalion of artificial soldiers and the Devil Lord for the others to decide.
"I will take the Devil Lord," Vlad said without hesitation, his voice echoing directly into Altharion’s mind.
The Crown Prince inclined his head. He had no objection. The Devil Lord was indeed the greater threat; the artificial army, however formidable, was still bound by their nature. Altharion’s divine glaive would be enough to meet them.
Silence hung for a heartbeat as the titans of both sides gathered their strength. Auras swelled higher and higher, pressing against one another, until at last the silence shattered.
The White Death and Pompeyo struck first. Alexandro’s spear, bathed in white flame, met the arc of Pompeyo’s massive war axe, glowing with golden energy.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!"
The explosion rocked the Void Between Worlds. Light and fire blasted in every direction, flooding space for countless kilometers. The clash of Emperor and World King shook existence itself. And though Pompeyo wielded the Origin Force of his homeworld, he was quickly driven back beneath the overwhelming pressure of the White Death.
At the same time, Altharion met the advance of the artificial lifeforms. His glaive burst with divine radiance as he swept it in a wide arc, unleashing an ocean of holy energy. Half of the constructs were hurled aside, their forms tumbling into the void. Yet the other half endured, using their companions’ bodies as shields to press onward.
They reached him with terrifying speed. Their fists and kicks were primitive, brutal, but honed to perfection. Their strikes came from every direction, coordinated with flawless timing. They cut off every path of escape, their movements synchronized like the gears of a colossal war machine.
Altharion could feel the horrifying physical power behind each blow, enough to shatter mountains, but his mind remained calm. His eyes shone with focus. With a twist of his glaive, he deflected one strike and instantly redirected the momentum, driving the weapon backward into two more attackers behind him.
The glaive’s divine light flared, blasting another pair aside. His movements flowed like water, each strike a continuation of the last, his focus unbroken even as the army closed in around him.
However, there was a limit to the abilities of the Crown Prince, and finally, one blow landed on the side of his rib, pushing him away. Yet even then, a smile appeared on his face, for with the power of the blow, he was able to push his body away from the humanoids’ siege, free to attack at full power once more.