Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 219: The Warbringers

With a roar, it raised its axe high and brought it down with titanic force.

CRACK!

The ground exploded beneath the impact, as bones shattered and erupted, turning into a deadly storm of flying shrapnel.

Hundreds of razor-sharp fragments—

All shooting straight for him.

But Alex didn't even blink, a shimmering barrier of energy flickering around him.

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM!

The deadly shards struck the barrier—only to rebound at full force.

WHOOSH!

The shrapnel ripped through the air, piercing the nearby gnolls with brutal precision.

Their own executioner's attack had turned against them.

SPLURT!

Cries of agony filled the battlefield as blood sprayed in all directions.

But Razorgut remains unaffected.

The massive gnoll roared, shaking the ruins, then charged forward, its colossal form like a runaway freight train.

And as it thundered toward Alex—

The blood of the fallen began to rise.

It twisted through the air, slithering like living veins, drawn toward Razorgut's body by some unseen force.

The executioner was absorbing the fallen—

The crimson tide slithered across the battlefield, pooling around the fallen like a living entity.

It snaked up Razorgut's legs, soaking into its blackened fur before hardening into a thick, pulsating carapace of blood armor.

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

The armor pulsed like a beating heart, each throb sending raw power coursing through its monstrous frame.

Its muscles bulged unnaturally.

Its veins blackened, thickening like cords of steel beneath its hide.

A low, guttural growl rumbled from its throat—then...

CRACK!

Razorgut's bones twisted and strengthened, its monstrous frame expanding, its body adapting with horrifying efficiency.

It had activated [Feast of the Slaughtered].

Its speed doubled.

Its reflexes sharpened to a supernatural level.

The gnoll's jagged fangs clashed together in a horrifying grind of bone and steel.

Then...

BOOM!

The executioner kicked off the ground.

The sheer force of its launch shattered the stone beneath its feet, sending debris flying in every direction.

In the blink of an eye—It was already on Alex.

It's colossal bone axe came crashing down, slicing through the air with a deafening howl.

The sheer force behind the swing shattered the earth beneath it, sending cracks racing outward like lightning bolts.

If it landed, the impact alone could have split a mountain in two.

But—

It never connected.

A flash of silver.

For a split second, nothing seemed to happen.

Then—

THUD.

Razorgut's severed head hit the ground with a sickening weight, rolling once... twice... before coming to a complete stop.

Its empty eyes still burned with the rage of battle, but there was nothing left behind them.

The massive body lurched forward, staggering as if still trying to fight.

As if it hadn't realized—

It was already dead.

Then—

It collapsed, lifeless.

Alex stood exactly where he had been, Murzok Fangblade outstretched, his stance unshaken.

His blade gleamed under the crimson sky, slick with fresh blood.

He had moved so fast—so ridiculously fast—that to the outside eye, it looked like he hadn't moved at all.

Then—

Ding!

[You have killed Warbringer Razorgut, the Butcher]

[You have leveled up]

[You have leveled up]

[You have leveled up]

[You have received 15 stats points]

[You have received 3 powerstones]

[Apocalypse Baby Kicking in]

[You have received additional 15 stats points]

[You have received additional 3 powerstones]

Alex grinned.

His level was rocketing toward 60.

And he hadn't even broken a sweat.

But—The battle wasn't over.

The gnolls were still coming.

A flood of fangs and fury, their howls shaking the ruins.

But among them, three stood out.

They reeked of power.

Each of them as strong as Razorgut.

And then—A fourth one.

It didn't make itself visible, hiding in the shadows—watching, waiting.

Alex grinned.

He let it think it was hidden. For now.

The first of the three noticeable ones?

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A hunched figure, draped in tattered, blood-soaked robes.

Its black fur was streaked with deep crimson war paint.

Bone charms clattered against each other with every eerie movement, rattling like the whispers of the damned.

In its clawed grip, a twisted staff—a grotesque fusion of fused bones and dark iron—pulsed with an unnatural glow, as if it were alive.

Its glowing green eyes locked onto Alex, gleaming with malevolent intent.

[Warbringer Gorehowl, the War Shaman – Rank A (R)]

Alex didn't blink.

Then came the second.

A towering brute.

Its frame was packed with raw, frenzied muscle, its sheer size making the others look like malnourished pups.

Its fur was a deep, dark red—not from birth, but from the dried blood of countless victims.

It wore no armor. It didn't need any.

Its body was a weapon.

Its jagged fangs, permanently stained black, gleamed as it pulled back its lips into a sadistic grin.

And its wild, predatory gaze never left Alex.

It was looking at him like prey.

[Warbringer Blackmaw, the Berserker Alpha – Rank A (R)]

Then came the last.

A colossal, armored juggernaut loomed over the battlefield, nearly ten feet tall.

Its storm-gray fur was barely visible beneath the thick steel plating fused directly into its flesh, each plate scarred and battered from countless battles.

Its eyes burned like embers, a fortress in motion.

In one massive hand, it gripped a battle hammer that could crush boulders like brittle glass.

The other held a tower shield—a slab of steel so massive it could stop siege weapons.

Then, with a grinding of gears, the shield shifted.

Metal plates unfolded, twisted, and locked into place—transforming in seconds into a wickedly serrated greatsword, gleaming under the blood-red sky.

[Warbringer Doomcarver, the Juggernaut – Rank A (R)]

It didn't need words.

Its presence alone was enough to crush the air with its sheer dominance.

But Gorehowl?

Gorehowl wanted words.

The war shaman grunted, its throat rumbling with something ancient and cruel as it lifted its twisted staff high.

" Human."

Its clawed fingers curled tighter around the gnarled wood.

Dark energy crackled along its length, thick with malice and hunger.

Then, in a voice low and dark, dripping with venom, it uttered a single command—

"Die."

Then—

A spine-chilling roar tore through the battlefield.

A pulse of necrotic energy erupted from Gorehowl's staff, rippling outward like a shockwave of pure death.

The very air twisted under its power.

The stench of decay thickened, suffocating, as the wave expanded like a collapsing star, devouring everything in its path.

Screeches filled the battlefield.

Lesser gnolls, caught in the blast, convulsed violently.

Their flesh withered, shriveling like dried leaves.

Their bones cracked, turning brittle, fragile, dust.

Some didn't even get the chance to scream—they simply crumbled where they stood.

The ground blackened, veins of dark corruption splintering across the earth as if the land itself was rotting away.

And still, the death wave surged forward—hungry, unstoppable, inevitable.

Straight toward Alex.

Whose grin widened, eyes gleaming—not with fear, but with something else.

Excitement.

The instant before the wave consumed him—

SHOOM!

A shimmering barrier flared to life, wrapping around him like a translucent sphere of pure, unbreakable force.

The necrotic energy collided with it like a crashing tsunami—

HISSSSSSS!

The dark magic writhing, twisting, shrieking, as if in pain, unable to penetrate the barrier.

It lashed out, coiling like a serpent against the shield's surface—

But it was useless.

The wave of death disintegrated, its power fizzling away into nothing.

Alex stood there, untouched.

His smirk turned feral.

Then—

He threw his head back and roared using [Echo of Annihilation]

A sonic shockwave exploded outward.

But it was not just sound—It was pure, devastating force.