Chapter 339: Ghostly Transformation

Chapter 339: Ghostly Transformation"Do you know what kind of weird power he used?" Apollo didn’t waste time and asked the important question, as it clearly had some connection with the Hall of Hell.

Arvain hesitated, his gaze flickering to the ground as if searching for words hidden in the rubble. His jaw clenched, the corners of his lips twitching with unease. He didn’t have a proud demeanour, as he knew his strength.

"...I don’t know the full truth," he finally said, his voice lower than before. "But I’ve heard rumours about it."

"In the deepest chambers of the Hall of Hell, there are forbidden texts—older than any known era, written in a language that twists even the soul of the reader."

Apollo’s eyes narrowed.

Arvain continued, his voice dry. "They say those texts aren’t from the three universes but from beyond chaos. And has a shocking secret hidden in it that transcends the supreme rule of the universe."

"But even though it said to contain unimaginable power, it also contained dangers."

"Oh, dangers?" He listened to Arvain’s words with interest and couldn’t help but ask.

Arvain gave a bitter chuckle, though there was no amusement in his eyes.

"If you understand a bit, you will get the taboo power, the power that Vael used. It appeared to contain despair, desolation, killing and even devouring power within it and continued to become stronger the more he killed and devoured life."

"But, sadly, the more they kill, the more dangerous it becomes, and the user started to lose his mind and lose control of their own power. Even in severe cases, they will completely lose their minds and turn into weird monsters that seem to be almost unkillable by most means."

Apollo absorbed the words in silence, his gaze flickering like distant stars stirred by windless air. The implications were clear—and unsettling.

"Power that grows with death and devours the user’s mind..." he muttered.

He exhaled slowly. "So Vael was already far along the path."

Arvain nodded grimly. "He must’ve stumbled on part of the texts... or something derived from it. I don’t think he fully understood it, either. But that power—it’s seductive. It promises dominion over all things, even the supreme rule. But in the end"...

He gestured toward the broken land where Vael’s remains had vanished to dust. "...It consumes everything."

"In fact, I have heard about him. In the past, because he lost control and went on a rampage, he was caught and suppressed here by elders. But who knows? Even after such a long time, he still wanted to try to leave this sanctum."

But just as they were talking, something suddenly happened to the geniuses that followed Vael, and they were just feeling happy for their freedom.

"Aaahhh.... Aaahhh"

"No... what’s happening?"

Screams shattered the tense air.

Apollo’s head snapped around as several of the geniuses who had followed Vael staggered, clutching their heads. Their bodies convulsed violently, eyes rolling back into their skulls.

"Aaahhh! It’s burning—it’s burning inside me!"

One dropped to his knees, frothing at the mouth as black tendrils erupted from his skin like parasitic veins. Another collapsed backward, his body spasming as if something was clawing to escape from within.

But before they could do anything, all of the geniuses wailing in agony and pain turned into mummies, and then the weird energy from them gushed out like something was pulling them.

All the weird energy from the mummified body started to gather around the remains of Vael rapidly.

The air twisted.

Space itself convulsed as if in protest.

That black, writhing energy—the remnants of corruption from those who had once followed Vael—poured into the shattered ground where his bisected remains had only moments ago turned to dust. The land trembled, cracked further, and then... pulsed.

Arvain’s face paled. "No... that power is still alive?"

Apollo’s eyes sharpened, his hand already flexing as the Eternal Sword Rule surged once again through his soul. "No. Not alive. But not dead either."

The corrupted energy spiralled into a vortex, howling with despair and rage. From the centre of the swirling dark mass, a shape began to form—blurry at first, like a ghost torn between worlds. A half-human, half-nightmare silhouette slowly rose.

No flesh. No bones. Just hate. Just hunger. Its body was made entirely from the weird power—its form flickering like smoke over a dying fire.

It was Vael, but... not Vael.

His face had no eyes, no features, only a stretched hollow of darkness where his mouth should be.

Apollo frowned upon seeing this, as the aura of the entity was completely different from Vael. He didn’t feel any life in it; instead, he felt weird desolation and the end of everything that seems contrary to any life forms; even the undead didn’t gave such a kind of feeling.

He wasn’t careless and held his sword tightly and was ready to face anything.

The weird new revived Vael suddenly looked towards them. However, the moment it looked at them, they all felt their hair stand up and a chill run through their spines.

Apollo narrowed his eyes.

That thing—it didn’t look at them with intent or hatred. There was no emotion, no will, no focus. And yet, the moment its gaze swept across them, it felt like they had been seen in their own grave.

A soundless pressure settled over the battlefield.

Clark fell to his knees, gasping for air, his hands clawing at his own throat. Sara turned pale and staggered behind a boulder, trying to stabilise her prana flow, which had suddenly gone berserk. Even Arvain, who also had extraordinary strength, staggered backwards.

Apollo stood firm.

The Eternal Sword Rule shimmered faintly around him like a protective halo—not bright, but resolute.

The creature then opened its hollow mouth.

A soundless scream tore across the land—not noise, but absence—a devouring vacuum that stripped away colour, sound, and hope itself.

It then, like a ghost, came towards him with terrifying speed.

Apollo’s aura also surged, and he immediately attacked as his eternal sword ruled like a supreme judgement.

His figure flashed forward as he swung his sword.

A thin arc cut through space itself, not bright or loud, but absolute. Time around the sword energy seemed to freeze; light bent away.