Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 266: Only One Worth Fearing

Then—CRACK!

Bones snapped back into place like logs being jammed into a machine. Limbs regrew.

Crk-CRK-CRK!

Muscle reformed.

Torn skin twisted and stitched itself back together with glowing red threads—chaotic energy pulsing through his veins like puppet strings reanimating a corpse.

Brakka sat up.

His eyes were still glazed. He breathed heavily.

He was alive.

"...Didn't he die?"

Alex muttered as he took a step back, his shock twisting into disbelief.

"I wouldn't worry."

Malik's voice drifted in like a breeze, calm and unbothered.

Alex turned his head toward him as Malik continued.

"In the VIP Combatant Zone, death isn't permanent."

Alex stared at him like he'd just grown a second head.

"You're kidding."

Malik gave the faintest shrug, a half-smirk tugging at his lips.

"It's to keep contestants from wiping each other out before the real games begin. Die here? You wake up… eventually."

Alex rubbed the back of his neck and let out a long sigh.

Well, that explains why the proctor wasn't worried about locking us all in the same room like it's some kind of tea party.

As for why they thought it was a good idea?

Yeah, Alex would probably never figure that one out.

His eyes shifted back to Brakka.

The Kruckle's body had been wrecked—literally torn apart with a gaping hole punched straight through his chest. That kind of damage should've kept him down for good.

But now, every limb was back in place, and the huge, burned hole in his chest was gone. Completely healed. Not even a scar.

Alex narrowed his eyes as Brakka stomped forward.

Bone spikes jutted from his arms, twitching with surging energy, like they were aching for blood.

His face twisted in a snarl.

If anything, dying had fueled his bloodlust instead of dulling it.

Alex let out another sigh and shifted into a fighting stance—hands loose, feet grounded, senses sharp.

"Here we go again…"

But before Brakka could take a third step, Malik appeared between them.

FWOOM.

His eyes locked onto Brakka's—and just like that, the giant froze.

Malik didn't say a word.

Didn't lift a hand.

He just glared.

And the weight of that glare hit like a cannonball.

Pressure blasted outward from Malik's body, invisible but overwhelming.

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It was pure will—the kind of presence that demanded obedience without a word.

"Enough," Malik said. His voice was low, but it echoed like a war drum across the chamber.

Brakka's muscles tensed.

Veins bulged under his skin.

Rage rolled off him in waves, thick and suffocating.

For a split second, Alex thought he might lose control and attack anyway.

But then, Brakka's foot slid back.

His claws relaxed.

That one second of hesitation stretched into stillness.

Then the Kruckle let out a deep, guttural growl.

His glowing eyes locked on Alex one last time, burning with a silent promise.

Then, with a sharp grunt, Brakka turned away.

Alex raised his brows slightly, caught off guard.

He's actually backing down?

Malik hadn't made a single move. Not one gesture.

But the weight of his presence-the raw, bone-deep pressure that radiated off him—had frozen Brakka in place like he'd been caged.

Alex stared a beat longer, eyes narrowing.

Okay, he thought. That's impressive.

He was starting to look forward to facing Malik in a real fight.

Then it hit.

THOOM.

A sudden boom shook the floor beneath them. Low and thunderous—like a war drum the size of a mountain being struck once.

The walls seemed to hum from the impact.

Then a voice echoed through the chamber. Deep. Metallic. Distant, yet clear.

"—Initiating match. Anima: Kira versus Tranagian: Vess."

Alex looked up. The voice had come from everywhere at once—some kind of intercom system embedded in the tower walls.

Across the room, several screens flickered to life on the far wall. Blue light spilled out, forming a set of massive holographic displays.

Malik was already walking toward them, silent and focused.

Sylen, the quiet elf, followed. He'd barely reacted during the entire confrontation, and his strength was still a mystery.

Grugrim sighed behind them, rubbing the side of his head like the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. He had it rough—his first opponent was actually Malik.

Then he, too, turned and walked toward the screens.

Brakka, as reluctant and steaming as he looked, stomped off next.

He didn't want to go. That was clear.

But he went anyway.

His spine stayed rigid. His claws twitched. His jaw clenched like it was wired shut.

Still, the beast drifted toward the spectacle with the others—muscles tight with rage, but legs moving all the same.

He couldn't afford to provoke Malik again.

Not after what just happened.

Getting killed by a demon?

Yeah. Not exactly a five-star experience.

Watching him leave made Alex view Brakka as a coward.

That was the only explanation for why he'd back down.

Also—Brakka had claimed he wanted to fight the one who defeated Tharnok, who, in his eyes, was the strongest. Yet it was obvious to anyone here that Malik was the strongest.

And still, for some reason… Brakka wasn't interested in attacking him.

The strongest was standing right there.

And Brakka wouldn't do a thing.

If anything… he seemed afraid.

And to Alex?

That was really pathetic—especially after all that smug talk earlier.

Only Alex stayed behind as the others made their way toward the screens to watch the fight.

They could get excited over the match if they wanted. He already knew how it would end.

The ultimate winner of Side B would obviously be Malik.

And if any of the contestants were stronger than that guy...

"Well... Heaven help me."

Alex returned to the far corner and sat down, legs folding beneath him in one fluid motion.

Then resumed what he'd been trying to do before the confrontation started:

Check his system.

He leaned back slightly, one hand raised in front of his face—and with a flick of his fingers, a wave of light washed across his vision.

The glowing interface blinked into existence.