Despite the numerous severe wounds etched across his body and his dangerously depleted energy, none of the Voroes dared to approach the Depravita.
Vlad's aura was overwhelming—so dense and oppressive that even those monstrous beings, bred for slaughter and destruction, faltered for a heartbeat when drawing near. Their instincts screamed at them to stop.
The battlefield that had moments ago teemed with bloodlust was now hushed near his presence, cloaked in the raw, unshackled wrath that rolled off him like a crashing wave.
He exhaled slowly, each breath shaky but controlled. Then, without a word, he stored the corpse of the fallen Half-Step Legend in his spatial ring.
With the last remnants of his power, Vlad activated his teleportation, vanishing from the heart of the enemy lines and reappearing near the Graecia ranks. At the same time, the Spatial Domain Sphere flickered and collapsed into itself.
But he didn't stop there.
