ALL NOVEL Chapter 309: The Three Devil Apostles are Down
The atmosphere in the chamber shifted the moment Valgorth fell.
The heavy tension hanging in the air dissipated, replaced by an unsettling silence.
It felt as if the very room itself was waiting.
Two of the apostles were now dead, and even with all of their confidence, thinking they had trapped Stark inside of their domain... all of that was nothing.
Only Malthus remained now, his black robes swirling around him, shrouded in the fading light from the destruction of his allies.
Stark and his clone stood firm, battle-worn but unwavering. They could sense the overwhelming power radiating from Malthus, but neither showed any sign of backing down.
Malthus's scythe hung lazily by his side, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement.
Slowly, his lips curled into a wicked grin as he raised the scythe high above his head.
The weapon shimmered with a dark, unnatural glow, as though it were feeding on the surrounding shadows.
Without warning, he slammed the scythe into the ground.
"I AM THE MIGHTIEST OF THE ABYSS! FACE ME!" His voice echoed, causing the very floor beneath their feet to tremble.
Stark's eyes narrowed, his expression cold and unyielding.
In that instant, Malthus unleashed his "Godly" ability: [Blackened Harvest].
A dense black mist began to rise from the ground, swirling around Malthus like a living thing.
It absorbed the lingering energy of the fallen—the souls of Cerberus, Valgorth, and the countless devils that Stark had cut down along the way.
Their twisted forms merged with the mist, feeding into Malthus's growing power.
"Just for your information... I am the strongest of the apostles among those three, and my godly skill is one of the best there is in the entire world," Malthus smiled.
His body swelled as the aura around him darkened, his skeleton (?) muscles bulging, and his already towering frame growing larger.
The scythe pulsed, now brimming with raw, demonic energy.
Stark felt the shift immediately. This was no longer the same Malthus. He had become something far more dangerous, far more monstrous.
He had pushed himself past his very own limits.
[Malthus has gone from Calamity to Immortal-Level monster]
And with all the souls he harvested, he became just as strong as Olikar.
With an ominous smirk, Malthus pointed his scythe toward Stark.
"You will kneel before the power of the Abyss," he growled, his voice now deep and guttural, exuding death and destruction.
But Stark didn't move. He didn't even blink. Beside him, the clone was still, their synchronization flawless.
Malthus wasted no more time on words. His body blurred as he surged forward, his scythe crashing down with the weight of a thousand tons.
The blade sliced through the air like a guillotine, aimed directly at Stark's head.
But Stark was already moving.
With reflexes sharpened by countless battles, he activated [Dodge Control], slipping out of the way just as the scythe grazed past, missing him by a hair.
SLASH!
The scythe struck the ground with tremendous force, carving a massive gash into the stone where Stark had stood.
Malthus's attacks were faster now, infused with the energy of every soul he had consumed. Each swing was filled with the essence of hell itself, every strike meant to kill.
The clone sprang into action, darting toward Malthus from the side.
Still ordering EGO, Its demonic claws glowed with dark energy as it aimed to catch Malthus off guard. But Malthus reacted swiftly, spinning his scythe in a wide arc.
The clone barely dodged in time, retreating just as the blade whistled past, too close for comfort.
The fight escalated into a deadly dance. Malthus's scythe cut through the air relentlessly, every strike more powerful than the last.
Stark and his clone moved like shadows, dodging, weaving, their movements in perfect harmony.
Each missed attack from Malthus sent shockwaves rippling through the chamber, shaking the walls, cracking the stone beneath their feet.
But it was the same for Stark, as Malthus managed to avoid everything and cut down every holy attack with no efforts.
"You think you can avoid me forever? Feel the weight of despair!" Malthus's voice echoed, dripping with malice.
He swung the scythe again, but this time, a wave of dark energy erupted from the blade. The wave expanded rapidly, filling the chamber, leaving no room to escape.
Stark's instincts took over.
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"Domination Soul!" he shouted, summoning chains of energy not to bind, but to fight.
He swung the chains wide and placed his soul heart in front of them, creating a barrier against the encroaching darkness.
The black energy collided with his souls and the chains, sending sparks flying as Stark whipped the crimson soul back toward Malthus, deflecting the wave.
Malthus snarled in frustration, closing the distance between them, bringing his scythe down with terrifying speed.
Stark barely managed to twist out of the way, sending his soul heart snapping toward the scythe's handle. With a yank, he pulled it aside, just long enough to disrupt Malthus's rhythm.
The clone saw its moment, rushing in with EGO's claws outstretched, ready to tear into Malthus. But the apostle was too quick. He leaped back, spinning mid-air, releasing another burst of dark energy as he did.
SLASH!
The clone narrowly avoided the attack, its body bending impossibly to dodge the blade's lethal edge (because of Dodge Control).
One wrong move, and either of them would be finished. Stark and his clone were pushing themselves to the limit, walking between the edge of life and death.
But they moved flawlessly, their timing perfect.
Malthus's eyes blazed with fury as he realized his attacks weren't landing.
"Enough!" he roared, raising his scythe toward the sky. The very air in the chamber seemed to warp as the full force of his [Blackened Harvest] exploded around him.
Dark energy swirled in a massive vortex above, crackling with power.
The ground beneath them trembled, and from the shadows, spectral hands emerged.
These were the souls of the fallen devils, summoned by Malthus's godly power.
They clawed at Stark and his clone, trying to drag them into the abyss.
Stark's gaze sharpened. He couldn't let this drag out any longer.
"Clone, now!" Stark commanded, and as if they were one, the clone responded.
The clone unleashed [Crushing Gravity], drawing on the might of the [Wielding Cross] and launching it toward the open sky.
Fwish...
And while Malthus was too concentrated on having the hands drag them to the deepest parts of hell, he hadn't focused on the incoming attack.
He had seen Stark use it against the guardian ape, but his pride made him believe he could everything.
He was proven wrong.
BOOOOOOM!
The cross crashed into the apostle, momenterily staggering him and making him drop his scythe because of the sheer divine power.
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Malthus let out an enraged roar, momentarily disarmed.
But Stark was already moving.
In an instant, he teleported behind Malthus using [Crimson Ball Transmission], appearing just behind the apostle before he could react.
Stark wasted no time, grabbing Malthus by the shoulders, locking him in place with an iron grip.
Malthus struggled, his raw strength still terrifying, but Stark held firm, his aura blazing with determination.
"Release me!" Malthus spat, thrashing violently, but it was too late.
Stark summoned the last of his power, his voice ringing out with finality.
"Heaven's Wrath!" he pointed at the sky after drawing a circle in his hand.
The heavens responded.
A brilliant light split the darkness in the sky, descending upon them like divine judgment.
The crimson beam consumed Malthus, its purity burning through the dark power he had harvested, tearing away the souls he had consumed.
"Crimson Ball Transmission," and Stark had already set his other crimson ball, teleporting away right before being hit (first perk of transmission is he gets another crimson ball to use).
Malthus screamed in agony, his body dissolving under the blinding light.
Oh, and yeah, Stark fused [Heaven's Wrath] with [Holy Infusion].
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His health plummeted, his strength drained.
With a final explosion of light, Malthus's form disintegrated, reduced to ash, his reign of terror over.
[Malthus has been defeated.]
Stark stood over the remains, his chest heaving, sweat trickling down his face.
The chamber was silent once more, the weight of the abyss lifted at last.
The clone stood beside him, its demonic aura still strong.
It was finally over.
Stark took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow, surveying the battlefield one last time.
Victory was theirs.