Chapter 415: Allen Creates a New God-Tier Undead
The vast legion of skeletal soldiers—numbering in the tens of thousands—had all reached at least the fifth tier, thanks to Allen's intense efforts.
The native forces of Apokolips were equipped with energy-based weaponry, making regular skeleton soldiers nothing more than cannon fodder.
To address this, Allen reallocated some materials to elevate the army's overall level just enough to ensure basic self-preservation.
Of course, the true reason behind the massive undead army was Allen's fear of death.
As long as a single skeleton remained, it meant he had one more life to spare.
...
Tier Twelve: Jadebone War God (Mutated)
...
"Another second mutation!"
Allen was overjoyed as he gazed at the skeleton in front of him, its entire body smooth and lustrous like jade, holding a war axe fashioned from bone jade.
Indeed, this skeleton had already mutated once at the ninth tier, and now again at the twelfth.
Clearly, the phenomenon of second mutation wasn't exclusive to Bone Dragons—though it remained extremely rare among ordinary skeletons.
"An eighteenth-tier undead... even the thought is terrifying."
Of course, even at the same eighteenth tier, skeletal-type undead still couldn't match Bone Dragons in power. The gap in strength was simply too vast.
After all, Bone Dragons could leap three entire tiers in combat capability.
Moreover, the materials needed to fully evolve a Bone Dragon were utterly monstrous.
Even without complex calculations, Allen could tell that killing every living being on Apokolips still wouldn't be enough to raise several Bone Dragons to the twenty-first tier.
But an eighteenth-tier undead? The materials required were only a hundredth as much. It was worth a try.
Meanwhile...
The native residents of Apokolips's capital began to flee in droves.
The war had dragged on far too long—and it was obvious the enemy was overwhelmingly powerful.
Boom!
A brutish figure, resembling a wild man, suddenly charged into the skeleton army, smashing his way through like a beast, shattering the undead into fragments.
"Golden-Haired Lion King?!"
Allen squinted for a better look, then said in realization, "Oh, it's the Black-Haired Lion King."
The man was shirtless, wearing only a pair of dark red shorts, and swinging a spiked club that whistled through the air.
As he shook his head, his thick mane and wild beard danced like seaweed.
"Hah! You savages dare to bully disciples of my sect?"
With a flyswatter in hand, Allen appeared before the man and declared proudly, "This is the Supreme Flyswatter, the sect-protecting divine weapon of the Netherworld Yellow Spring Sect. It does not kill nameless ghosts."
"So you're the mastermind behind the invasion of Apokolips."
The barbarian paused his assault and looked over calmly, a cruel smirk on his face. "Capturing you alive will surely make my father look at me differently."
Father?
Look at you differently?
"Aha, I know who you are now," Allen said cheekily. "You must be Orion."
"You insolent wretch! I'm Kalibak, firstborn son of Darkseid and Vice Lord of Apokolips!" the barbarian roared in fury, correcting him.
"Yeah, yeah. Ori-got-it," Allen waved him off, clearly not taking him seriously.
After all, whether Kalibak or Orion—they were both sons of Darkseid.
The key difference? Kalibak was hideous, looked like a caveman, and was perpetually out of favor. In fact, Darkseid forbade him from even calling him 'father.'
Allen gave him a pitying look. "Tsk tsk tsk... I get it. A twisted personality born of family trauma. I feel for you."
According to Allen's knowledge, Darkseid had forcefully integrated the Omega Effect, which caused initial mental instability and led to some truly insane acts.
One of which was forcing himself on a hideous old crone—an act so repulsive that even Darkseid couldn't bear to look at the son that resulted from it.
Thus, every time he saw Kalibak, he was reminded of that grotesque event, making it impossible to love his eldest.
Of course, Darkseid had more than one child. His second son, Orion, was extremely capable.
Unfortunately, their father-son ideologies clashed.
Once, Orion was offered as a hostage in a peace exchange between Apokolips and New Genesis and raised on the latter, making him loathe Apokolips's environment.
Even so, Darkseid favored him immensely.
This bred deep-seated resentment in Kalibak, who constantly challenged Orion, but was always met with his father's bias.
Darkseid's love life was legendary—he had three children, each from a different mother. The youngest daughter was born from an Amazon warrior.
"Die!"
Kalibak hated any mention of his lineage. After all, that lineage was the reason he was treated like trash.
But Allen easily blocked his furious attack with the flyswatter.
"Looks tough, but you're just a softie," Allen mocked as he counterattacked. With eighty-four times the strength of a normal human, he was no match for Darkseid, but more than enough to thrash Kalibak.
After all, not everyone could wield the Omega Effect.
SMACK SMACK SMACK...
Allen relentlessly slapped Kalibak in the face with the flyswatter, leaving him momentarily stunned.
His face burned, his eyes blazing with rage.
"I'll kill you!"
But despite Kalibak's strength and bulk, his agility was lacking. He couldn't even catch a glimpse of Allen, let alone land a hit.
SMACK SMACK...
Allen weaved left and right, swatting away.
"That's for not wearing a shirt."
"That's for being uncivilized."
"Don't you know I'm a model youth who promotes civility?"
"It's everyone's duty to stop uncivil behavior."
"..."
At first, Kalibak tried to kill him in rage. But as more and more red marks appeared on his body, he realized something was wrong.
Each strike from the flyswatter left a swollen, red welt.
Even worse, Allen kept smacking his chest, which now looked swollen and unnaturally large.
By this point, there wasn't a single patch of normal skin left on Kalibak.
"Damn you! You're asking for death!"
SMACK!
"Ah—!"
A numbing, stinging pain surged through him, making Kalibak instinctively clutch his chest.
Allen stood nearby, leering, flyswatter raised. That shameless look made Kalibak seethe.
"Didn't expect a grown man to have cleavage," Allen muttered, eyes narrowing as he stared at the gap in Kalibak's chest, emphasized by his own arms.
"You're insane!"
With that, Kalibak turned and ran.
There was no point in continuing.
Any longer, and he was worried he'd develop gynecomastia.
What kind of lunatic relentlessly targeted a man's pecs like that?
"Don't run! I still need to get you fitted for a D-cup!"
Flyswatter in hand, tongue out, Allen chased the panicked Kalibak like a madman.
The natives of Apokolips who hadn't managed to flee in time and were hiding in nearby buildings saw their vice lord—second only to Darkseid—fleeing in utter humiliation, and were plunged into despair.
If even their second-in-command couldn't stand his ground, how could ordinary people resist the invaders?
For the first time, the emotion of fear took root in the hearts of Apokolips's natives.
They had once been the ones to invade and plunder other worlds.
Now, karma had come calling.
Around a corner, Allen leapt forward and kicked Kalibak hard, sending him sprawling.
Ah-da!
Seizing the moment, Allen began mercilessly stomping him—completely bullying him like a thug picking on the weak.
Kalibak, the Vice Lord of Apokolips, the ruthless executor of planetary invasions, now found himself being abused by a lunatic.
"Stop! I surrender!" Kalibak finally yielded, recognizing the terrifying strength hidden behind Allen's unimpressive appearance.
Allen pointed the flyswatter at him. "Hands off. I said, hands off!"
"No! Please, I'm begging you! Don't do this!"
Kalibak shook his head desperately, tears welling in his eyes like a delicate maiden facing a predator.
But he still couldn't escape Allen's clutches.
Eventually, after a bout of soul-shattering cries, Allen strutted out from the corner, fully satisfied, heading toward the pile of corpse materials.
Behind him, Kalibak sat sobbing like a flower battered by rain.
Too big. Too perfectly symmetrical.
Above him, a hundred-meter-wide undead canopy stretched like dark clouds.
Beneath it, corpses piled high like mountains.
At that moment, Darkseid—still locked in combat—suddenly felt something.
He turned his gaze toward the direction of the undead canopy.
"What is he doing?"
Though he couldn't disengage from the relentless Death Dragon pursuing him, he could sense a presence—something dangerous being born.
Something powerful enough to threaten a New God... could only be another New God.
But a single planet could only support one New God.
Apokolips's divine essence was already fused with him. Another couldn't possibly be born.
In truth, the reason the sixteenth-tier Death Dragon couldn't defeat Darkseid was precisely because it hadn't reached New God status. It could only stall.
After prolonged battle, even its bones had begun to crack—collapse was imminent.
In short, while the Death Dragon had power on par with a New God, it wasn't one.
Suddenly—
A suffocating aura erupted without warning.
Darkseid and the Death Dragon both halted, turning toward its source.
Tier Eighteen: Netherworld War God.
Fully evolved.
Allen looked upon the newly formed skeleton warrior, clad in dark bone armor, with a horned helm and a twin-bladed crimson axe.
"Master."
"A minotaur warrior?" Allen blinked with a strange expression, his mind clearly drifting toward odd thoughts.
"Fight!"
With a roar, divine might surged skyward like a tidal wave.
Even demonic creatures instinctively trembled.
The Netherworld War God charged into the sky, directly engaging Darkseid.
"Impossible—a god from the Underworld?!"
Darkseid's expression turned to shock.
This was the mortal realm—how could an Underworld god emerge here?
"Die."
The Netherworld War God spoke in curt, cold words. Whether due to low intelligence or natural disposition, its tone was chillingly detached.
Darkseid didn't hesitate. Omega Beams launched instantly—he wasn't probing; this was a lethal strike.
Boom!
The War God raised its axe, cleaving into the beams head-on.
Now, as two New Gods clashed, the surrounding area quaked under the tremendous shockwaves—far more intense than before.
The Death Dragon, having retreated, now returned to the battlefield—but paused at its edge.
Then—
A series of thunderous, incomprehensible syllables echoed across the heavens.
A language of divine rhythm—Dragon Tongue Magic.
In the realm of magic, it was equivalent to a forbidden curse.
Only dragons could inherit and wield it.
But in the world of American comics, there were no traditional dragons—only cosmic beings that resembled them.
Still, the drawback remained: Dragon Tongue Magic required incantation time, making it unfit for close combat.
Hum—
As the final syllable rang out...
Beams of radiant light spread across the sky, forming a massive magic circle that summoned down glaciers radiating a bone-chilling cold.
Glacial Meteor Spell.
It was as if meteors were crashing through the atmosphere, descending from the heavens.
Boom! Boom! Boom!!!
Towering glacial peaks rained down upon the ranks of the demonoid army.
In an instant, the icebergs burst into waves of freezing energy, sweeping through the battlefield and freezing the demonoids into statues of ice.
In the blink of an eye, millions of demonoids perished under the assault of Draconic Magic.
Wide-range magic attacks were ineffective against powerful individuals—
After all, as one's body grew stronger, so too did their resistance to cold.
Even so, the Death Frost Dragon did not stop attacking, continuing to chant spell after spell.
Frostfang Arrowstorm.
Countless ice arrows, each like a long spear, rained down from above.
The demonoid army didn't even have the chance to retreat.
Seeing this, Darkseid's eyes burned with fury, nearly bursting from their sockets.
He knew in his heart that Apokolips was finished.
If the slaughter continued unchecked, the demonoid army—accumulated over a thousand years—would vanish from existence.
The number was in the billions, and they weren't composed solely of this planet's natives; over seventy percent were converted captives from conquered worlds. Otherwise, the order of Apokolips would collapse.
Escape!
The thought took root in his mind.
Yes, Darkseid was considering retreat.
His observation had made one thing clear—Allen possessed the ability to mass-produce New Gods.
It was almost unbelievable. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, Darkseid wouldn't have accepted it.
He could still vividly recall how arduous his own path to godhood had been—how unforgettable the trials.
Now, here was someone who could forge a New God from worthless corpses alone.
Moreover, the number of demonoids slain by the Death Frost Dragon had already surpassed tens of millions.
At this rate, it wouldn't be long before several more New Gods were born.
Even facing a single New God, Darkseid couldn't guarantee victory—let alone several times that number.
As Omega Beams lit up in his eyes, Darkseid's figure began to blur and vanish.
One of the Omega Beams' special traits was enabling the user to travel through space—thus, he had long ago set up a contingency plan to save his own life.
As someone of high status, with countless enemies, Darkseid naturally kept such survival cards hidden.
However, this entire scene was being broadcast in real time via satellite to the entire population of Apokolips.
Their godlike ruler… had abandoned them and fled.
It was impossible to imagine the depth of despair now consuming the people of Apokolips.
"Damn, Uncle Dark's eye teleportation technique is seriously masterful."
Allen couldn't help but praise Darkseid's quick thinking. Had the guy stubbornly insisted on dragging out the fight, he might really have been given the chance to steamroll Apokolips.
The sixteenth-tier Death Frost Dragon had already pushed Darkseid to his limit—if Allen managed to cultivate a twenty-first-tier Bone Dragon, wouldn't it be a matter of seconds to kill him?
Of course, Allen had no interest in massacring an entire planet—but the demonoid army had to be eliminated. After all, they were the butchers responsible for conquering countless other worlds.