Not far from the ruined lake, Vlad stood within a domain of ash so dense that visibility extended only a few meters at most. The air was heavy, suffocating, and laced with infernal residue.
Red and blue flashes of light streaked toward him relentlessly, each attack carrying immense destructive power. Yet the True Depravita of Wrath did not retreat even a single step. His grip on the Quietus Sword was steady, and with flawless precision, he blocked every strike, the blade humming softly as it erased the attacks on contact.
Despite the ferocity of the assault, Vlad remained calm.
His focus was not even fully on his enemies. Part of his attention was directed toward the battlefield below, and a faint smile curved his lips as he watched the forces of the Graecia Empire advance. Even with the ash obscuring their vision, their formations remained perfect. Their movements were precise, disciplined, and merciless as they cut down every Devil in their path.
