Apocalypse Baby

A deep, bone-rattling roar exploded from Alex's lungs, shaking the very air.

Then—

BOOM!

A visible shockwave—thick, rippling with raw power—detonated outward, tearing through the battlefield like an invisible tsunami.

The earth beneath Alex split apart, stone and dirt shattering from the sheer force.

The concussive blast ripped forward—unstoppable, a force of nature—aimed directly at Gorehowl, the War Shaman.

But Doomcrusher, the Armored Juggernaut, was already moving.

With a mechanical CLANK, his massive greatsword shifted, plates sliding and locking as it transformed back into a towering, unbreakable shield.

Then—

BOOOOOOM!

The shockwave slammed into Doomcrusher's shield with the force of an earthquake. The sheer impact rippled through the metal, sending out a deep, thunderous vibration.

The ground beneath them cracked apart, jagged fissures racing outward as raw energy tore through the battlefield.

But Doomcrusher didn't move an inch.

THUD!

His boots dug into the shattered ground, holding firm against the storm of destruction.

But even the unyielding wall of steel couldn't fully absorb the impact.

The sheer force ripped through Doomcrusher's defenses, sending a violent tremor through his body.

Then—

BOOM!

His colossal frame was launched backward like a fired cannonball.

The armored juggernaut, a living fortress, was now airborne, hurtling straight toward Gorehowl.

CRASH!

A thunderous impact.

The two gnolls slammed together, their combined weight skidding across the battlefield like a wrecking ball. Their bodies plowed into a pile of broken stone and jagged bones, shattering debris in all directions.

Dust and blood filled the air.

Then—

A howl.

Not just any howl.

A sound that made the air vibrate, sinking deep into the bones of all who heard it.

A deep, guttural command that echoed across the war-torn field.

It was the third gnoll.

Blackmaw.

His fur bristled, his sinewy muscles tensed, and his fangs gleamed in a twisted, predatory grin.

His voice rolled over the battlefield, thick with authority.

Blackmaw's piercing gaze then swept over the remaining gnolls, his twisted grin widening.

A dark, pulsing energy radiated from him—an invisible command crawling into their bones, sinking deep into their very instincts.

A skill.

One that ripped away fear and replaced it with pure, unrelenting bloodlust.

For a single breath, the gnolls froze—their bodies tense, their minds teetering on the edge of reason.

Then—

They snapped.

Their bodies bulged, muscles expanding, stretching their skin taut.

Veins darkened, writhing beneath their fur like living serpents.

Their yellowed eyes burned crimson, pupils shrinking to slits as unhinged hunger took over.

Their snarls turned to feral, primal roars, saliva dripping from glistening fangs.

The battlefield shook beneath their clawed feet as they charged, reckless and unstoppable.

A tidal wave of rage, fur, and steel crashed toward Alex.

A wall of gnashing teeth, slashing claws, and bloodthirsty eyes—all aiming to tear him apart.

But Alex was already gone.

A blur.

Fangs snapped at empty air. Blades sliced nothing but shadows.

Then a spray of crimson.

Alex blitz through them, his sword lashing out in sharp motions.

Every movement was precise.

Every counterattack was brutal, efficient, and absolute.

He was untouchable.

One by one, the gnolls fell, their bodies hitting the dirt before they even realized they were dead.

And in seconds—he was there.

Face-to-face with Blackmaw.

A blur of silver and black shot toward the Berserker Alpha—fast, deadly, inescapable.

But Blackmaw didn't panic.

He grinned.

Blackmaw wasn't afraid.

If anything, he looked amused.

His grin widened, fangs bared in savage confidence.

He was strong. He knew he was strong.

So when Alex came at him, he didn't dodge. He didn't flinch.

He attacked.

His massive, clawed fist reeled back, muscles bulging, veins pulsing with berserk power.

Alex didn't slow.

He didn't hesitate.

He met the attack head-on.

Their fists clashed—

Or so it seemed.

A split second before impact, something went wrong.

Blackmaw's fist... passed right through Alex.

A flicker. A distortion.

Like punching through a mirage.

And in that moment—before Blackmaw could even process what had happened—

CRACK!

Alex's knuckles smashed into the gnoll's face.

BOOM!

A gruesome explosion of flesh, fur, and bone erupted into the air.

Blackmaw's skull? Gone.

Obliterated.

His massive body staggered, swayed—then collapsed in a lifeless heap.

Ding!

[You have killed Blackmaw – The Berserker Alpha]

[You have leveled up]

[You have leveled up]

[You have leveled up]

[You have received…]

The system notifications flooded Alex's vision.

But he barely noticed.

His focus was still on the battlefield.

Because the next attack was already coming.

A jagged beam of pure darkness tore through the air—fired straight from Gorehowl's twisted bone staff.

The War Shaman had recovered. And he wasn't hesitating.

Alex's eyes locked onto the incoming attack.

That energy… It felt the same as before.

The same necrotic power that rotted everything in its path.

SHOOM!

The black energy spiraled toward him, twisting, writhing—its surface crawling like a thousand screaming souls.

It came fast.

But Alex didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't flinch.

The moment it reached him—

FWOOM!

His barrier flared to life, shimmering like an unbreakable sphere of arcane energy.

The necrotic blast slammed against it—hissing, crackling, fighting to break through.

But it couldn't.

It vanished.

As if the attack had been swallowed whole.

Alex's Arcane Dominion pulsed around him, absorbing the spell without leaving a trace.

Gorehowl snarled seeing Alex stood untouched.

His glowing green eyes narrowed, frustration twisting his already monstrous face.

Then—he fired again.

More.

A relentless barrage of twisting black energy spewed from his staff, crackling with raw necrotic power.

But it didn't matter.

Alex's barrier, [Arcane Dominion], devoured every single blast.

Every. Single. One.

Gorehowl growled, his clawed grip tightening around his staff.

But then—

BOOM!

A thunderous roar split the battlefield.

Doomcrusher had recovered.

And this time, he didn't just charge.

He came like a living war machine.

His shield shifted, unfolding back into a towering greatsword.

Now, in one hand, he gripped a massive battle axe.

In the other, the colossal blade.

Every step was a small earthquake, the ground splitting under his sheer weight.

A battering ram of steel and fury, heading straight for Alex.