Apocalypse Baby

The massive blade of ice, big enough to blot out the sun, came crashing down like divine retribution, aimed straight at Tharnok.

But…

Despite its overwhelming size and power, Tharnok didn't run.

Instead, he dug his feet into the ground and faced it head-on, eyes locked on the falling sword.

And just as the blade was about to crush him, he threw up both hands—

BOOM!

The collision shook the entire arena.

Tharnok caught the sword.

A deep, grinding groan escaped his throat—"Grrrh..."

The force slammed him backward, his feet sliding across the arena floor. Cracks spread out beneath him like spiderwebs. His knees buckled, barely holding him up under the sword's crushing weight.

His muscles bulged, straining with every fiber of his being. Thick veins popped, blood trickling down his arms from the sheer pressure. His body trembled—but he didn't let go.

With a guttural roar, he screamed through clenched teeth, Emi bursting out in jagged, chaotic waves. His fingers dug into the frozen blade, ice cutting into his skin as he tried to snap the sword in half with brute strength.

But it wasn't enough.

The sword was too much.

Its size had been amplified by Metamass, and its core was infused with Cryoforge, a deep, bone-chilling cold that made the entire blade unnaturally strong and sharp.

This was no ordinary sword—it was a masterwork of elemental power and force.

If Tharnok had been at full power, maybe—maybe—he could've shattered it.

But now?

Now he was wounded, exhausted, and far from his peak.

"Aaaaaaaargh!" Tharnok screamed, voice raw with rage and pain.

His feet ground into the stone—his shoulders shook—his muscles strained like steel cables stretched to their limit—

But the massive ice sword was just too much.

With a final, crushing groooaaaan of resistance, his strength finally gave out.

BOOM!!

The sword slammed him into the ground, exploding with the force of a bomb.

The arena shook violently.

A shockwave blasted outward, powerful enough to knock chunks of stone loose.Debris flew, and a gust of cold wind, sharp with frost, rushed through the air like a blizzard on fast forward.

The spectators flinched, hands raised instinctively—

But the barrier protecting the stands shimmered, stopping the wave just in time.

Then—silence.

No movement. No sound. Just a rising wall of dust and steam, spiraling into the air like ghosts.

The center of the arena was a wreck.

Stone was crushed to rubble. Frozen shards of ice glistened across the battlefield.

A massive crater, like a scar left by a meteor, marked the spot of impact.

Still—no movement.

Time seemed to freeze.

Those watching held their breath, eyes wide, minds racing.

What they saw felt impossible.

Unreal.

Then, like someone had flipped a switch, the silence was shattered.

Screams. Cheers.

Shouts of disbelief and admiration erupting like a tidal wave crashing through the arena.

"SWEET MOTHER OF NEPTUNE!"

"DID YOU SEE THAT?!"

"THAT'S A TUTORIAL PLAYER!"

"HE'S A MONSTER!"

"WHAT EVEN WAS THAT?!"

"HE DROPPED A GLACIAL BOMB ON HIM—THAT'S WHAT"

"INSANE."

The crowd was losing its mind.

People were on their feet, waving arms, gripping their friends, screaming into the air like they'd just witnessed a god descend from the sky.

The power Alex displayed didn't just impress them—It shattered every expectation.

Even the legacy holders, warriors known across realms, sat wide-eyed, some mouths open, struggling to process what they'd just seen.

And far above them all…

Beyond mortal sight, past the clouds and into the heavens, the avatars of the deities sat upon their divine thrones, observing it all.

Some leaned forward, lips curled in amusement.

Others—especially those Alex had rejected—gripped the arms of their thrones with visible frustration.

Among them, the Blood Monarch, Vladros, was fuming.

His red eyes glowed with barely-contained rage.

He'd wanted this battle to humble Alex.

To break his pride.

To make him crawl back, beg for power, and accept his offer.

He wanted the battle to prove to the other dieties that Alex was just hype and nothing more to dissuade them from pursuing him.

But instead?

Alex had flipped the entire script.

This fight only elevated him.

And now…

Every. Single. Deity. Wanted Him.

Back in the arena, the noise roared on.

But at the center of it all—

Alex stood perfectly still.

Breathing steadily. Shoulders squared. Eyes calm.

He didn't move.

No celebration.

No fist raised.

Alex just stood there, motionless.

Eyes locked on the wreckage.

He wasn't satisfied. Not yet.

There was no signal from the proctor.

No confirmation of victory.

And that meant only one thing:

Tharnok was still alive.

Then...

RUMBLE.

A deep vibration trembled through the air like the growl of an awakening beast.

From within the ice crater—a low, guttural snarl.

CRUNCH.

Stone shifted. Ice cracked.

Something was moving.

The arena held its breath.

The roar of the crowd died instantly.

Gasps spread like wildfire. Eyes widened.

"No way..."

"It can't be..."

Then Tharnok emerged.

Dragging himself from the crater like a demon from the depths of hell.

One step.

Then another, slow and heavy.

His body was a shattered mess:

Blood spilled from dozens of open wounds.

His right arm hung uselessly, bones snapped and twisted.

His chest was caved in, ribs visibly broken.

His face was barely recognizable—one eye swollen shut, jaw crooked.

And on his battered face?

A savage, unshaken grin.

Teeth red with blood.Eyes burning with bloodlust. Like a furnace seconds away from detonation.

"He's still alive?!"

"How the hell did he survive that?"

"That should've killed him—ten times over!"

The crowd murmured in disbelief, voices overlapping in hushed shock.

Then, slicing through the confusion, came an older voice—deep, calm, and certain—from one of the Tranagian elders in the stands.

"Vorakans are not just strong... they're tenacious. Survivors of wars that flattened worlds. They don't go down easy."

Down in the arena, Tharnok took another step forward.

THUD.

His boot slammed down, leaving a deep bloody print across the cracked floor.

He grinned, teeth stained red, blood dripping lazily from the corner of his mouth.

"Now that..." he rasped, voice rough and dark, "that was quite thrilling."

Alex's brow twitched.

Just slightly—but it was there.

He couldn't believe Tharnok was still standing.

The guy was like a living cockroach—refusing to die, crawling out of every impossible situation.

Annoying.

But instead of stewing in frustration, Alex took a breath and shifted his mindset.

Fine.

If Tharnok wanted to keep fighting... then so be it.

He'd make a perfect test dummy.

And Alex had just the thing.

With the decision made, Alex...