Apocalypse Baby

Malik had won.

The dwarf was dead.

And yet…Victory tasted like dust in his mouth.

His win should have felt like a triumph. Like domination. Like the kind of destruction only a Demon Prince could deliver.

But it didn't.

Because it wasn't absolute.

Malik's fingers curled slowly into fists. His claws scraped against his own scorched palms—sharp and deliberate—Dragging pain into focus as a pulse of frustration surged through him.

He had bled.

He had stumbled.

In full view of the arena.

Of Kael watchful.

That was unforgivable.

Especially because perfection was demanded from him.

He knew someone would've been watching, someone his father had sent.

And what had Malik done?

He had toyed with the dwarf and almost died for it.

The image formed in his head, unshakable:

Kael, standing before the Demon King.

Reporting in his cold, merciless voice:

"Your son was wounded… by a dwarf."

That sentence alone would be enough.

Enough to bring wrath.

Enough to bring punishment.

Malik's breath hitched in his throat.

"He'll see me as weak," Malik thought.

"He'll strip me of my title. Maybe… exile me. Maybe worse..."

A chill ran through his spine, one he hated—feared—to admit.

"Execution."

He clenched his jaw—hard.

The muscles along his neck tightened as his head slowly lifted, eyes locking on the far side of the arena.

Up above, towering over the battlefield, was the VIP Combatant Zone.

And that's when it happened.

The shame burning in his chest, shifting and twisting into something else.

Blame.

His pupils narrowed into sharp, glowing slits, and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

"This is all Alex's fault."

The memory came rushing back—sharp, vivid, in perfect detail.

Grugrim, standing tall, watching Malik descending with a suicidal confidence.

He hadn't come up with that Full Counter on his own. He had copied it.

From Alex.

That same barrier Alex had used in his fight with Brakka.

Malik's mind snapped to the moment he saw Grugrim talking to Alex before the match.

Grugrim had analyzed the skill.

Then turned around and used it against him.

And it had worked.

Malik's fists began to burn—Slow, steady flames licking across his knuckles, wrapping his hands in angry fire.

Each flicker stung like a memory.

A taunt.

A scar.

Grugrim's voice echoed in his head—

You think you're the strongest in this stratum? That no one can touch you? But you aren't.

Malik's lip curled.

He could still see the smirk Grugrim wore before the end..That smug, fearless grin, even as his body was falling apart.

Disgust twisted Malik's face.

Alex!

He was the one who showed off.

The one who handed out secrets.

The one who made Grugrim think he had a chance.

"If Alex hadn't flaunted his stupid tricks… Grugrim wouldn't have stood a chance."

Flames surged up Malik's arms, flaring hotter.

Not from power.

From rage.

Grugrim thought Alex was the strongest but Malik considered that to be bullshit.

Sure, Alex was good.

Good enough to be brought into the demon army—But stronger than him?

Not a chance.

He ground his teeth, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

Suddenly, the proctor's booming voice cut through the tension, echoing across the arena.

"Let's give it up for the winner of this bout—Malik, the flaming demon!"

A ripple spread through the crowd—part applause, part gasps, part stunned silence.Some cheered.Some didn't know what to feel.

But Malik wasn't listening

. His ears tuned out the noise.

"What a brutal match!" the proctor continued, voice full of fake excitement. "But now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to move on to the next phase. The semis! And it begins with a battle between two winners… Alex of the human race and Sylen the Elf!"

The arena exploded with cheers once again.

Malik didn't react.

Not even a twitch.

He just stood there, silent in the center of the battlefield, flames still simmering on his skin like a warning.

Then the proctor looked directly at him.

"Please return to the combatant zone. You've earned your rest, Malik."

The moment the words hit the air, Malik's body flickered.

A soft crimson glow flared around him—like molten energy pulling inward and with a whoosh of displaced air and a flare of heat he vanished.

A heartbeat later, he reappeared at the heart of the VIP Combatant Zone in a flash of red light.

The glow from the teleportation hadn't even faded before Malik stepped forward without hesitation.

Shoulders square, back straight eyes locked on one target.

And not a single doubt in his stride.

Alex, Sylen, and Vess who were standing in front of the viewing screen, turned to look.

They felt it before they saw it.

That hostile aura, boiling off Malik like heat from a wildfire.

The three wondered what was up with him.

Was he mad and wanted to take it out on them?

But the closer Malik got, the clearer it became—

He wasn't approaching all three of them.

He only had eyes for one.

Alex.

Alex's brows pinched slightly.

His confused expression shifted from curious, to wary, to serious in a split second.

His body stilled, and from Malik's view, that calm which initially made him intrigue now now pissing him off.

He needed a prey that cowered but Alex was anything but that.

The way he looked was unnerving, like he had already calculated the entire situation ten steps ahead.

Malik's palm flared to life—A faint glow at first. Then brighter...hotter.

Flames bloomed along his wrist, spiraling up his arm in a trail of orange and red.

It wasn't for show.

It was personal.

In Malik's mind, Alex was part of the reason for his shame.

If Alex hadn't flaunted that flashy barrier move, If Grugrim hadn't copied it, he wouldn't have been countered.

He wouldn't have bled, wouldn't have stumbled, wouldn't have looked weak.

"You…" Malik growled, his voice cracked with heat. "You did this!"

Alex didn't flinch.

His voice came back cool and measured.

"I didn't do anything Grugrim did."

Malik's eyes blazed hotter.

"If you hadn't given him the means—!"

Alex narrowed his eyes.

"What are you even talking about? Didn't you win the fight?"

Malik clicked his teeth, jaw twitching.

"Don't tell me it's because you're pissed Grugrim landed a blow or two."

"He landed nothing!" Malik snapped.

Alex gave a slight smirk.

"Grugrim was right. You really are a kid."

Malik, on hearing this, froze.

Then, after a moment of silence.

A scattered blast of concentrated flame hurled straight out of him heading towards Alex and everything in his vicinity.