Beyond the Apocalypse

Chapter 1155: AmonRa

Altharion’s body glowed with pure light, each exhale intensifying that radiance, while every breath seemed to draw it inward—not into darkness, but into a shifting gray equilibrium that bridged both extremes. His soul force was growing at an astonishing rate, expanding and condensing in a rhythm that felt almost alive. The light surrounding him did not simply shine—it evolved.

Odinvaldr watched in silence, genuine surprise flickering across his ancient gaze. By all expectations, Altharion should have lagged behind the others. And yet, at this moment, his growth threatened to surpass his father, the White Death, as well as the other True Depravitas.

A thoughtful expression appeared on the Primordial God’s face as he studied the young man more closely.

"Humans are among the earliest creations of the universe—the first beings aligned with the Light. A hybrid between them and a God... that is something I have not seen in a very long time."

There was a quiet sense of realization in his voice. The more he learned about this group, the more convinced he became that his decision to bring them into the Divine Realm had been the correct one. Each of them carried something extraordinary, something that defied conventional understanding.

Still, curiosity could not take precedence over necessity.

Though ancient laws prevented direct conflict between Primordial Gods, those laws were only as strong as the consequences behind them. Odinvaldr understood better than anyone that balance could break if pushed far enough. With that in mind, he closed his eyes and returned to meditation, focusing on restoring himself to his peak condition.

Days passed, then weeks.

Across his Sacred Kingdom, bursts of divine power erupted one after another, marking the ascension of new Gods. For over three months, Vlad and the others experienced a rare period of peace. They devoted themselves entirely to cultivation, free from the constant threat of ambush or war.

In the Higher Dimension, they had always stood on the frontlines—pillars of strength forced to remain vigilant at all times. But here, in the Divine Realm, that burden belonged to others. For the first time in a long while, they could simply grow.

Unfortunately, such peace was never meant to last.

Vlad remained within his residence, seated beneath the great tree in a meditative posture. Divine Power flowed from every inch of his being, surrounding him in a radiant, almost sacred aura. Though he had not moved in weeks, the space around him was anything but still.

Reality itself shifted continuously.

Sections of land drifted out of place, rivers cut through forests where they did not belong, and fish swam through the sky as though it were water. Entire fragments of terrain would occasionally appear suspended above the ground, only to dissolve and reassemble elsewhere moments later.

It resembled a poorly assembled puzzle—chaotic, inconsistent, and ever-changing.

Yet despite the apparent disorder, there was no destruction. Everything remained perfectly intact, functioning as part of a greater whole. The chaos was controlled, guided by an unseen hand.

"Come."

The voice of Odinvaldr echoed directly within Vlad’s mind, breaking the stillness.

The True Depravita of Wrath opened his eyes.

A single glance swept across his surroundings. Then, with a subtle shift in his gaze, a wave of spatial force surged outward from his soul. Instantly, the fragmented landscape reorganized itself. Rivers returned to their paths, land settled into place, and the sky cleared of wandering anomalies.

In an instant, it was as though nothing had ever changed.

Vlad rose to his feet and turned toward the direction of the grand hall. With a single step, his figure vanished.

Teleportation within a Sacred Kingdom was impossible—even for someone of his caliber. But that did not mean movement was restricted. By merging his body with the fabric of space itself, Vlad propelled forward at speeds that surpassed light.

Under normal circumstances, such velocity would tear apart a physical body, forcing it into a state of pure energy. But Vlad was no ordinary being. As a True Depravita, his existence was already rooted in psychic energy given form.

For him, such movement carried no risk.

As expected, he was the first to arrive at the entrance of the grand hall. Still, it did not take long for the others to follow.

One by one, they appeared, each radiating a powerful divine aura. It was clear that the past months had not only allowed them to ascend into godhood but also to deeply assimilate their Divine Domains. Their strength had risen far beyond their previous peaks.

The True Depravitas and the royal figures of the Graecia Empire exchanged glances, wide smiles forming across their faces. They had only recently entered the Divine Realm, yet their growth had already exceeded expectations. When they eventually returned to the Higher Dimension, they would face the Ancient Ones with far greater power.

Still, none of them allowed that excitement to distract them.

Their expressions quickly turned solemn as they stepped into the hall.

They knew Odinvaldr would not interrupt their training without reason.

At the center of the chamber stood the Primordial God of Bloodshed and Battle. His figure radiated immense power, his presence far more stable and complete than before. It was clear that he had fully recovered the energy and essence lost during the transformation of Hell’s layers.

A satisfied smile appeared on his face as he looked upon the group.

"Excellent. You have all exceeded my expectations."

His voice carried both pride and relief.

"There is still time before the Tournament of Gods begins. However, there are several matters we must address before that. And the first of them... is meeting our allies."

At those words, his expression shifted, growing more serious.

"I cannot stand alone against those who wish to abandon the Higher Dimension. Fortunately, I am not the only one who sees the value in you—and in your people."

His gaze swept across each of them, firm and resolute.

"It is important that you meet the other Primordial Gods who share our cause, as well as their champions. When the tournament begins, you will not fight alone. You will stand beside them."

Vlad, the White Death, and the others nodded in unison, sharing the solemn understanding reflected in Odinvaldr’s expression. They were about to meet their allies—beings who stood at the pinnacle of the Divine Realm—and even if they all pursued the same ultimate goal, that did not guarantee acceptance.

Strength had to be proven.

If they were deemed unworthy, they would not be outright rejected. The other Primordial Gods and their champions would still show respect to Odinvaldr and maintain formal cooperation. But that would not be enough.

It would reduce Vlad and the others to secondary figures in the Tournament of Gods, limiting their influence over its outcome. Worse still, it would isolate them. In a battlefield shaped by alliances and rivalries, isolation could easily become a death sentence, allowing enemies to focus their strength against them without restraint.

Odinvaldr gave a small nod as he observed their expressions. He did not need to explain further—they already understood the stakes.

With a simple wave of his hand, divine power surged outward. In an instant, radiant armor materialized around each of them. The designs carried a distinct Viking aesthetic, forged from golden energy and engraved with intricate runic patterns that pulsed faintly with power.

Jormungandr’s eyes widened as he examined the armor. As an alchemist, his perception allowed him to grasp its structure almost immediately—and what he saw left him deeply impressed. This was not merely protective gear. It was a masterpiece, something far beyond conventional crafting. The armor did not just shield its wearer; it harmonized with their Divine Power, amplifying it while maintaining perfect balance.

It was on an entirely different level.

Odinvaldr wasted no time. His golden aura expanded, enveloping the entire group. A moment later, they vanished from his Sacred Kingdom, streaking across the vast expanse of the Divine Realm as beams of light.

Their destination soon came into view.

As they approached the new Sacred Kingdom, its nature gradually revealed itself. At first glance, its inhabitants appeared human, but a closer look told a different story. Their Divine Power manifested externally, forming phantom-like veils around their bodies. These ethereal layers granted them animalistic features.

It was a strange yet harmonious fusion of humanity and instinct.

However, one particular detail captured the attention of the group—especially one member in particular.

Cats.

They were everywhere.

Thousands roamed freely throughout the Sacred Kingdom. Some lounged lazily atop golden structures, others prowled along rooftops, while a few simply observed their surroundings with calm, knowing gazes.

Jormungandr tilted his head slightly, curiosity evident in his expression as he glanced toward Odinvaldr.

The Primordial God noticed and allowed a faint smile to form.

"AmonRa is a rather peculiar individual," he said calmly. "He has many interests... but he holds a particular fondness for cats."

"I see. A man of refined culture and exquisite taste."

Odinvaldr simply chuckled under his breath as they crossed into the Sacred Kingdom.