Beyond the Apocalypse

Chapter 1151: The Tournament of Gods

"—The Tournament of Gods."

The moment those words left Odinvaldr’s lips, the atmosphere in the hall shifted.

Vlad, Overlord, the White Death, and the others narrowed their eyes almost instinctively. A solemn expression settled over their faces as they exchanged brief glances, silently acknowledging the weight behind that name. They had already witnessed the overwhelming power of the Divine Realm, and even without meeting the other Primordial Gods, they could imagine the terrifying might of its greatest beings.

If Odinvaldr was the standard, then the rest would not be far behind.

Even working together, defeating a Primordial God was not something any of them could confidently claim to achieve. Yet none of them spoke. None of them rushed to conclusions. Instead, they remained silent, their focus returning to the ancient figure before them.

Odinvaldr took a slow, measured breath, and a grave expression appeared on his face.

"As I informed you back in Hell," he began, his voice calm but heavy with meaning, "the situation in the Divine Realm is extremely delicate. There are those, like myself, who wish to protect and support the Higher Dimension—to aid you in confronting the flaw in the universe and defeating the Ancient Ones who have awakened ahead of time."

As he spoke, a flicker of annoyance appeared in his eyes.

"However, there are others who believe the opposite. They think the Higher Dimension is far too weak to withstand the power of the Ancient Ones. That your chances of success are negligible... and that your resistance is ultimately futile."

He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone sharpening slightly.

"And to be truthful, there is some merit to their reasoning. After all... they possess several Empyrean existences. You possess none."

Vlad’s expression darkened, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

They had fought relentlessly, pushing themselves beyond their limits time and time again to stand against the Ancient Ones. Countless lives had already been lost in that struggle, and many more would fall before the end. To hear their efforts dismissed as futile struck a nerve deep within him.

Odinvaldr noticed immediately.

"Do not misunderstand me," he said at once, his voice firm. "I believe in you. I have seen what you have achieved. The destruction of the Dream of Madness was no small feat—it was an accomplishment of extraordinary magnitude. It allowed me to rally several Primordial Gods to your cause."

His gaze softened slightly, though the seriousness remained.

"But even so... this will not be easy. The decision we face here concerns not only the Higher Dimension, but the survival of the Divine Realm itself."

Seeing that the group had steadied their emotions, Odinvaldr continued.

"If the Divine Realm were to sever its connection with the Higher Dimension, there are those who believe we could endure the rampage of the Ancient Ones. Of course, such an act would cripple the Universe Will’s ability to restrain them... and it would doom your entire plane of existence."

A heavy silence followed his words.

"There has been endless debate," he went on. "Yet no matter how much we argue, we cannot reach an agreement. Tensions have only grown more volatile over time... to the point where we nearly clashed with one another."

As he said this, Odinvaldr’s eyes suddenly flared.

A surge of killing intent and bloodlust flooded the hall, so intense that even Vlad, Overlord, and the White Death felt their bodies stiffen for a brief instant. They were no strangers to slaughter—each of them had walked through battlefields soaked in blood, leaving behind mountains of corpses.

And yet, the bloodlust of a Primordial God was on an entirely different level.

It was ancient. Absolute. Terrifying.

Fortunately, the moment passed quickly.

Odinvaldr exhaled, and the oppressive aura receded.

"In the end," he said more calmly, "no battle took place. Primordial Gods cannot clash directly. Even if we despise one another, ancient laws forbid it. The death of even a single one of us would inflict catastrophic damage upon the Universe Matrix... and destabilize the fabric of reality itself."

His gaze hardened.

"It became clear that words alone would not resolve our dispute. And so... we turned to the ancient equalizer."

"The Tournament of Gods."

At once, the eyes of everyone present sharpened. It was obvious now—this was the reason Odinvaldr had gone to such lengths to bring them here.

"The Tournament of Gods," he explained, "is an ancient event that dates back to the very foundation of the Divine Realm. In it, representatives chosen by the Primordial Gods compete against one another, facing countless trials and obstacles until a single victor emerges."

His voice grew steady, almost solemn.

"Each tournament is different. The laws and rules are randomized by the Divine Realm itself, ensuring that no Primordial God holds an advantage. It is the purest form of competition—one where only strength, will, and adaptability determine the outcome."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"My faction was prepared. I had great confidence in our victory."

Then his expression darkened.

"But there was a problem."

For a moment, Odinvaldr fell silent. A shadow passed over his face—one of frustration, even sorrow. It was a rare sight, and it did not go unnoticed by the group.

"The fall of Valhalla," he said at last, his voice lower now, "when the Ancient Ones first moved into the Higher Dimension... it caused a devastating backlash within my soul."

His hands tightened slightly.

"The impact was so severe that I lost consciousness. I fell into a deep slumber for an extended period. And during that time of weakness... someone acted."

A flicker of rage ignited in his eyes.

"They targeted my champions—the warriors I had chosen and trained for the tournament."

The air grew tense.

"I managed to save them from complete annihilation," Odinvaldr continued, his voice carrying restrained fury. "But their souls were shattered. Broken beyond immediate repair. It will take eons before I can restore them."

He lifted his gaze, looking directly at Vlad and the others.

"That is why I brought you here."

The weight of his words settled heavily upon them.

"I want you to act as my representatives in the next Tournament of Gods," he declared. "Stand in place of my fallen champions... and show all of them that the Higher Dimension is worth fighting for."