The wound had torn clean through Karot’s chest, severing his spine—a blow that would have destroyed even a puppet. And yet... the corpse did not fall.
Instead, Karot’s head snapped upward with a jarring, unnatural sharpness. His vacant eyes glowed brighter with a surge of demonic soul force. His hands, still moving, clamped tightly onto Asuru’s arm—and began to squeeze with deadly strength.
A cold wave of horror crashed over Asuru, the ice-draconic Vorometallicae. A sense of absolute dread seized his heart as he felt something deeply unnatural unfolding before him. That feeling was swiftly validated as the runic formation etched into Karot’s corpse began to glow ominously. Waves of corrupted demonic energy surged through the markings like black lightning.
Before Asuru could react, Karot’s corpse began to mutate.
Pustules erupted across his flesh, and grotesque wounds spread like a plague. A vile infection pulsed outward from his decaying form. Asuru watched in disbelief as the disease crawled along his arm—the very one that had pierced Karot’s chest—infecting his limb with sickly green veins.
In a desperate attempt to free himself, Asuru slammed his free hand into Karot’s head, blowing it apart in a violent burst. The grip loosened. Relief briefly flickered across his face.
But that relief was short-lived.
The runes on Karot’s body flared even brighter, glowing with furious intensity.
Though it takes time to describe, everything happened in less than a second.
And before anyone could react—Karot’s mutated, pestilence-infested body exploded.
A violent shockwave burst outward, releasing a massive cloud of disease, decay, and toxic gas. The sky above the battlefield darkened as the green, churning cloud spread like a living storm.
Sebastian’s eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the explosion. But before he could escape, Vlad appeared before him—eyes burning with wrath—and grabbed hold of him, forcing both of them into the toxic maelstrom together.
Of course, they weren’t the only ones caught in the blast.
The green cloud of death washed down onto the battlefield, engulfing hundreds of Vorometallciae Sages and Guardians below. Those directly beneath the blast suffered the worst fate—their bodies melted in a grotesque, horrifying fashion, skin and bone turning to slurry. Those nearby weren’t spared either. Flesh peeled from their bodies in sheets, and boils erupted as their screams echoed through the chaos.
Only the soldiers at the edge of the blast had the time to retreat, spared the full wrath of the demonic disease cloud.
From the ranks of the Korokor Stronghold, Vlad’s forces watched the scene unfold with a mixture of shock, awe... and horror.
They had seen many forms of death—but none as nightmarish as this. The sheer brutality of the pestilence cloud was unlike anything they had witnessed. Had it struck them instead, the results would have been equally devastating. Their bodies trembled, not just from the memory of death, but the haunting realization of how close they had come.
Only one thing offered them a small comfort—that such a terrifying weapon had been used against the Vorometallciae and not themselves. Were it not for that fact, trauma might have paralyzed them completely.
Many still worried that the plague might spread in their direction, that the corrupting cloud would drift toward them and doom friend as well as foe.
Thankfully, that danger was short-lived.
After roughly ten seconds, the green cloud began to interact with the oxygen in the atmosphere. A reaction ignited the gases—turning the pestilence cloud into a wall of flame. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the entire thing combusted and dissipated into nothingness.
Then came the voice—booming, clear, and filled with fury.
"March now!" Vlad’s voice thundered across the sky like a god’s decree, ripping through the lingering shock of his army and reigniting their focus.
His words lit a fire in their hearts.
"Attack!" bellowed Angelo from the vanguard, his voice following Vlad’s like a drumbeat of war.
Without hesitation, the Korokor forces charged forward in unison, their formations tightening as bloodlust and righteous wrath filled their souls.
The pestilence had killed nearly a third of the Vorometallciae army and injured another third, leaving them disoriented and broken. Now was the time to strike—before the enemy could regroup or reestablish their formations. Every second counted.
Vlad’s lips curled into a fierce grin as he watched his army surge ahead. They hadn’t hesitated. They didn’t waste a moment.
Now it was time for him to resume his role.
Without a word, he tackled Sebastian with renewed fury, dragging the Legendary Vorometallciae higher into the sky. With the bulk of his plan already successful, he had one final goal—to remove the battlefield’s most dangerous duel from proximity to his soldiers.
Sebastian roared in rage, striking Vlad repeatedly, trying to break the True Depravita’s hold. Each blow carried devastating force, but Vlad’s aura—backed by primal energy and divine reinforcement—shielded him, absorbing the punishment.
It took ten full strikes before Sebastian finally broke free, snapping Vlad’s hold and soaring backward through the sky.
But Vlad was not idle.
As soon as Sebastian retreated, Vlad raised his hand. The gemstones embedded in his palm pulsed with divine energy.
Sebastian’s instincts screamed.
The next instant, a colossal sphere of explosive force detonated in front of him. He folded his massive wings at the last moment, shielding himself just enough to survive—but the impact still hurled him hundreds of meters across the sky before he could recover control.
When he stabilized, he glared at Vlad with furious, narrowed eyes—and for the first time, understanding.
He had seen the faint aura shimmering around Vlad’s neck.
His eyes darted to the glowing gems in Vlad’s hands—another Divine Treasure.
"Divine Treasures!" Sebastian snarled, his voice dripping with fury.
But what enraged him more wasn’t just the artifacts.
He and Vlad had both been caught in the explosion of the pestilence cloud. Both had been exposed to its unrelenting toxicity. But only one of them now showed signs of damage.
Sebastian’s skin was burned and peeling. His body was covered in lesions, and poison flowed through his bloodstream like liquid fire.
That alone was enough to drive him into a murderous frenzy.
The reason for the difference was simple—though Sebastian didn’t know it.
Unlike the bat-like Vorometallciae, Vlad’s body was no longer composed of flesh and blood. It was a construct of pure, solidified psychic power. He was immune to most toxins, diseases, and physical decay. Only spiritual or soul-based poisons could truly harm him now.
But Vlad had no intention of sharing that secret.
Instead, he inhaled deeply.
Then, without a word, he activated the last of his Divine Treasures.