Apocalypse Baby

Ezekiel's gaze remained fixed on the pile of ash that was once Isaac.

His stomach churned, but he forced himself to stay calm.

His heart thudded relentlessly in his chest, and a sense of unease settled over the group.

For a moment, the trial zone was silent, except for the faint crackling of residual flames.

Those still outside the trial zone, standing on the edge of the starting, had seen everything clearly.

Their faces were pale, and their hands trembled.@@novelbin@@

"Forget this—I'm out of here!" shouted Hugh, a tank-like player with broad shoulders and a thick neck.

His voice was loud and shaky as he began backing away from the area.

Micah one of the three who hadn't entered the trial yet, turned his head sharply.

"What? You can't just—"

"I'm not staying here to get roasted alive!" Hugh snapped.

His massive hands were clenched into fists, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

"This whole thing is insane. I don't have to do this right now! We've got a couple of days left, right? I'll come back later."

With that, Hugh spun on his heel and stormed toward the edge of the mountain, his boots crunching against the rocky ground.

"Wait! Don't!" Freya cried out, darting forward to stop him.

She grabbed his arm, her fingers clutching tightly. "We don't know what happens if you leave—"

"Let go!" Hugh snarled, shaking her off with a forceful shove.

Freya stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock.

"I'm not sticking around to die!" Hugh barked, his voice echoing across the mountainside.

He marched under the towering statue that marked the boundary of the trial zone, his movements hurried and defiant.

But as he stepped beneath the statue, a shadow loomed over him.

Hugh breath caught in his throat as he looked up.

The statue, which had been motionless until now, began to move.

Its massive stone hammer rose into the air, casting an enormous shadow over Hugh's bulky form.

"What the—?!"

Hugh froze, his neck craning upward as he saw the towering figure above him.

His defiance melted into terror.

Then asharp, metallic sound echoed in the air, and a notification appeared before everyone:

DING!

[Players cannot leave the mountain once entered.]

[Punishment for disobedience: Death.]

"Shit!" Hugh cursed as he read the notification glowing before his eyes.

His face twisted with anger and fear.

"Why didn't you mention this before we star—"

BOOM!

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Hugh didn't get to finish.

The towering statue's hammer came down with a thunderous crash, crushing him in an instant.

SPLAT.

Blood sprayed outward, painting the rocky ground beneath the statue.

The sickening sound lingered in the air, echoing in everyone's ears.

And then, they were six.

Freya stumbled backward, her hands flying to her mouth as she tried to stifle a scream.

Her whole body trembled uncontrollably, her knees threatening to give out.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as the gruesome scene replayed in her mind.

"This is too much," she whispered, her voice quivering.

This was indeed a nightmare.

Beside her stood Micah, a male player dressed in a flowing priest's robe, holding a staff that gleamed faintly in the dim light.

He kept his gaze forward, his expression grim but composed.

"We can only move forward," Marcus said, his voice low and steady, though there was a heavy sadness beneath his tone. "The more we delay, the less chance we have of survival."

Freya hesitated, her lips trembling as she tried to form words, but nothing came out.

"I'll go ahead," Micah continued, gripping his staff tightly as he stepped toward the line marking the trial zone.

Wait What?

Freya thought to herself. If he left then she'll be the last one.

He paused just before crossing the line, his back to Freya.

"Make sure to join, too," he added, glancing over his shoulder.

There was a flicker of emotion in his eyes—an odd mix of sorrow and something else...something that rattled Freya.

"It pains me to do this," Micah muttered under his breath.

Then, with a sharp inhale, he grit his teeth and leaped over the line, officially joining the trial.

Freya winced as she watched him cross.

She realized why he had done it—he was ensuring he wouldn't be stuck in the last position.

The beast, Baranga, immediately swiveled its hulking form toward Micah, its gaze locking on him.

But Micah stood firm.

Unlike the others before him, he didn't flinch.

He had been paying attention, learning from their mistakes.

Before making his move, Micah had already shut his eyes tightly, anticipating Baranga's trick.

He wouldn't allow himself to be caught off guard like Isaac, who had fallen when the beast suddenly appeared in front of him.

Ahead of Micah, more players moved cautiously.

And Baranga's attention snapped toward them, the monstrous eyes tracking their steps like a predator watching its prey.

Seeing the momentary distraction, Micah took a deliberate step forward.

His movements were calm and calculated, each step a gamble with his life.

Freya, still standing outside the trial zone, began to panic.

Her breathing grew erratic, and she clutched her arms tightly, watching the others progress further ahead.

She was the only one left outside the trial.

At this rate, they were going to leave her behind.

Her mind raced as Dorion's words echoed in her ears:

"The slowest one ends up being the sacrificial pawn."

If she started now, she would already be at a disadvantage.

She'd fall behind the others, and her fate would be sealed.

Freya clenched her fists tightly, nails digging into her palms as a wave of dread surged through her.

She didn't want to be the sacrificial pawn.

Her legs felt heavy like they were weighed down with chains, but she forced them to move.

Step by trembling step, she inched toward the line.

Her breathing was shallow, her heart pounding so loudly it echoed in her ears.

And then she crossed it.

But the instant her foot touched the trial zone, Baranga's gaze....