Apocalypse Baby

Freya froze. Find more to read on My Virtual Library Empire

The words hit her like a slap, her mind struggling to process them.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, her voice sharp with disbelief. Maybe she misheard. Maybe she was just imagining things.

She squinted at Ella. Did she really just say—

"You killed who?"

Ella hesitated, shifting awkwardly. Her fingers fidgeted, her shoulders slightly hunched. She looked… embarrassed?

"The points I got from killing Jeremy," she repeated, softer this time. "I want to share them with you."

Freya blinked. Once. Twice.

She was stunned. Confused.

For a split second, she wondered if this was some kind of joke. If it was, Ella's sense of humor was completely broken.

But Ella wasn't laughing.

"You killed him?" Freya asked, her tone slower, more careful now.

"Yes."

"Jeremy?"

"Yes."

"When did that happen?"

"Well, he was already dying, so I—"

Ella started to explain, but before she could finish—

A deafening explosion shook the ground, cutting her off mid-sentence.

BOOM!

The sound of bones clattering followed as shattered skeletons crumbled to the floor.

Alex had snapped, wiping out multiple undead in an instant. His sudden attack practically declared the start of the fight.

The remaining undead let out an eerie screech, their hollow eyes glowing brighter. Provoked, they charged with even more aggression, their bony limbs moving unnaturally fast.

Freya tensed, her grip tightening around her blades. She shot Ella a sharp look.

"We'll talk about this later," she said firmly. There were more pressing matters now.

Even though Ella's words had rattled her, Freya forced herself to push it aside. She needed to focus. Hesitation could get her killed.

Beside her, Ella raised her staff, standing her ground without a hint of fear.

She had no regrets.

She had done it while Freya was too distracted by Alex's arrival to notice.

Jeremy was going to die anyway. So why waste the chance?

Taking his life meant securing more nightmare points—points that could help those still alive.@@novelbin@@

And in this place, survival was the only thing that mattered.

The undead let out guttural snarls and broke into a sprint, each wielding a different melee weapon—rusted swords, jagged axes, chipped spears.

Their hollow eyes locked onto the group, hungry for destruction.

At the same time, Onigi and Dorion had already started battling.

CLANG!

Blade met scythe, ringing through the air as the two warriors engaged in a deadly dance.

They weaved through the maze, their weapons colliding in rapid succession, sparks flying with every impact.

Any undead unlucky enough to step between them was instantly cut down—severed limbs and shattered bones littering the ground.

They reached an intersection, both pausing just for a second.

An undead lunged at Dorion from behind, swinging a rusted axe. Without looking, Dorion drove his elbow backward—CRACK!—shattering the creature's neck and sending its skull flying off its spine.

As the undead's lifeless body collapsed, Dorion smirked and kicked it like a ball toward Onigi.

Onigi reacted in an instant.

SWIPE!

His blade slashed clean through the airborne corpse, splitting it in half. But before he could reset his stance—

WHOOSH!

Dorion's scythe was already coming down, aiming to cleave him in two.

Onigi harrumphed.

"Petty tricks."

At the last second, he tilted his body sideways, just enough to let the scythe sail past him.

CRASH!

The weapon slammed into the ground with such force that it shattered the stone beneath, the impact sending a burst of debris flying.

The momentum carried Dorion forward.

Onigi's eyes sharpened as he turned toward Dorion, gripping his katana tightly.

With a swift motion, he slashed—but this wasn't an ordinary attack.

FWOOOSH!

The blade glowed sky blue, radiating an icy aura, and in an instant, multiple thin ice blades erupted from the swing, streaking toward Dorion like deadly shards.

Dorion's grin widened. Interesting.

Spinning his scythe in a blur, he deflected the first wave with sharp, precise movements.

CLANG!

CLANG!

CLANG!

The ice blades shattered on impact, spraying frost into the air.

But one blade slipped through his defense.

SWOOSH!

It streaked past his face, so fast he barely had time to react.

At the last second, Dorion tilted his head, just enough to dodge a fatal strike. The blade sliced across his chin, leaving a thin but deep mark.

For a moment, he stood still.

Then, slowly, he reached up and touched his chin. His fingers came away wet. Blood.

His grin faltered—only for a second.

Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he dropped his hand.

The wound vanished.

Not a scar, not a single drop of blood remained.

Dorion grinned again, this time wider.

Onigi's eyes narrowed. What the hell was that?

A healing skill? A regeneration ability?

Whatever it was… it would be a problem.

"Grr..."

The undead skeletons rattled and groaned, emerging from the shadows, their hollow eyes glowing with eerie light. They closed in from behind, forming a tightening circle around Dorion and Onigi.

But the two warriors didn't even glance at them. Their focus was locked on each other.

A breath...

Then...

They resumed once again.

Dorion's scythe swung in a deadly arc. Onigi's katana met it midair. Sparks flew.

The force of the impact cracked the stone beneath them as they pushed against each other, neither willing to back down.

Meanwhile, Alex stood amidst the swarm of undead, his fists clenched.

More and more skeletons staggered toward him from all directions, weapons raised. His usual method—snapping and setting off controlled explosions—would have been the easiest way to take them all down.

But there was a problem.

They were too scattered.

If he kept using his explosions, the shockwaves would spread too far. The others might get caught in the blast.

Alex sighed, shaking his head.

This is why he worked better alone.

Fine. Hand-to-hand it is.

A smirk crept onto his face.

If he had to fight them up close, he might as well make it enjoyable.

He wanted to feel their bones crumble under his fists, hear the cracks as he shattered them one by one.

His eyes flicked to his inventory.

He needed something that would help him get up close and personal.

Reaching out, he selected an accessory—one designed to make his punches hit harder.