Chapter 112: Apocalypse Unleashed

  Chaos erupted within seconds of Marcus's dire warning. Nobles scattered from the council hall, each desperate to protect their estates first, leaving the chamber in tense silence.

  Sylven’s eyes were calm, but Marcus could see the strain behind his composure. He turned deliberately to Thalron. "Our deal still stands—but we have far bigger issues to contend with."

  Thalron nodded grimly. "We understand."

  Outside, the city descended into panic. Monstrous, otherworldly creatures surged through the streets, tearing through homes and attacking indiscriminately. Amid the chaos, terrified civilians screamed, desperately seeking refuge.

  Marcus’s jaw tightened in frustration as nobles hastily retreated, disregarding the commoners in peril. Vira’s golden eyes burned with disgust. "They're just leaving their people to die."

  Thalron stepped forward, determination etched across his features. "Marcus, Arixa and I can guide the civilians back to the Kelcrest estate. It’s defensible ground. We can protect them."

  Marcus nodded without hesitation. "Do it. We'll hold the line."

  Arixa tightened her grip on her warhammer, eyes wild and fierce. "Stay alive."

  With an acknowledging glance, Marcus and Vira charged into the chaos, their forms blurring as they raced toward the invading horde.

  Marcus wasted no time.

  His body tensed, his instincts sharpening as he activated "Floating Butterfly, Stinging Bee" and "Spatial Footwork" in unison. His entire form flickered—then vanished.

  The world blurred in bursts of motion.

  Marcus reappeared in front of one of the creatures, his fist already cocked back. With an earth-shattering BOOM, his punch landed, obliterating the beast’s head in an instant. A sickening crunch followed as its exoskeleton crumpled inward, its body convulsing before collapsing lifelessly.

  Then, he was gone again.

  Another flash—Marcus emerged behind a pair of creatures mid-lunge. An Uppercut, cracked into one’s thorax with such force that its chitin split open, its body flung into a nearby building like a cannonball. Before the other could react, Marcus twisted, driving a Ki-infused hook into its side. A delayed explosion of force ruptured outward, tearing it apart from the inside.

  He didn’t stop.

  Each time he reappeared, he left behind only devastation. A flash of fists and destruction, snapping in and out of existence with pinpoint precision. The air itself seemed to shatter each time he struck, sonic booms rippling through the battlefield. One by one, the creatures fell, unable to react before their bodies were torn asunder.

  Vira, standing atop a crumbled balcony, watched the chaos unfold before steadying herself.

  Her grimoire hovered beside her, pages flipping in response to her command. But she didn’t rely on incantations this time. Instead, she gripped her staff tightly, its embedded runes glowing as she activated all ten pre-stored spells at once.

  The battlefield erupted.

  A sudden torrential downpour engulfed the city, soaking the creatures in an instant. The rain carried a strange energy, not just water, but something more—an elemental catalyst, enhancing what came next.

  Vira lifted her staff high, and with a sharp incantation, she called forth a bolt of divine lightning.

  The heavens answered. A fork of pure, white-blue electricity slammed down into the battlefield, coursing through the rain-soaked monstrosities. They convulsed violently, screeching in agony as their bodies locked in place, paralyzed by the charge surging through them.

  But she wasn’t finished.

  Her fingers danced along her staff’s intricate runes, releasing another stored spell—wind blades. A roaring tempest formed, twisting around her as dozens of razor-sharp currents lashed outward.

  The paralyzed creatures stood no chance.

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  The wind blades tore through their soaked bodies like paper, severing limbs, carving deep gashes through their torsos, sending insectoid heads tumbling to the ground. Their screeches turned into garbled cries before they collapsed, their bodies twitching in death.

  Hours passed, an endless cycle of battle against ceaseless waves of beasts. Vira channeled immense power, unleashing a devastating lightning storm that obliterated dozens of creatures.

  Vira exhaled heavily, her staff buzzing with residual magic. Her knees buckled slightly, the sheer amount of energy she had expended weighing down on her. She dropped to one knee, breathing hard.

  Her grimoire fell from the air, landing beside her with a dull thud.

  Panting, she used her staff to push herself back up, her eyes scanning the battlefield for Marcus.

  She found him in motion—a blur of speed, appearing and disappearing across the battlefield like a phantom of destruction.

  The way he moved was beyond even what she had seen before—a force of nature given form.

  Then, for a brief moment, he stopped.

  He was standing amidst the carnage, his breath heavy. Around him, the bodies of the slain creatures lay in twisted heaps. Their black, inky blood pooled beneath him, steaming against the ruined cobblestone.

  His hands trembled slightly, adrenaline and exertion battling for dominance. His breathing slowed as he took in the devastation—the once-pristine city of Nireen now a smoldering graveyard of elves and monsters alike.

  He turned to Vira, his voice ragged. "Is there no end to these things?"

  Vira steadied herself, forcing her exhausted body to stand tall. Her grimoire twitched, lifting from the ground, pages flipping rapidly as if sensing her will to keep going. She met Marcus’s gaze, her own exhaustion evident but her resolve unshaken.

  "I don’t know," she admitted, gripping her staff tightly. "But we must keep fighting."

  Lightning crackled across her fingertips once more.

  The battle was far from over.

  The Kelcrest estate was under siege.

  The air was thick with the stench of blood and burning flesh as unnatural screeches filled the night. The once-pristine estate walls were now lined with bodies—piles of grotesque, insectoid monstrosities, their six bladed limbs twitching in death. Yet, for every beast that fell, more emerged from the darkness, their fanged maws dripping with ichor, their unrelenting hunger driving them forward.

  Thalron flicked his rapier, the slick viscera clinging to its edge splattering against the cold stone. He was breathless, his sharp mind constantly assessing their position.

  Darion, despite his lack of combat prowess, stood firm among the terrified civilians. His presence alone was an anchor, keeping the gathered refugees from descending into panic. He caught Thalron’s gaze and nodded—the civilians were safe. For now.

  That meant it was time to rejoin the battle.

  Thalron turned back toward the battlements, where Arixa was carnage incarnate.

  Her warhammer, an infernal-looking thing pulsating as though it had a heartbeat of its own, crushed everything in its path. The ground trembled with each swing, sending shattered bodies and gore flying in every direction. The air around her was thick with the raw, crackling energy of Unyielding Rage, her Ki boiling over, fueling her unnatural strength.

  Her laugh echoed through the night—wild, unhinged, almost inhuman.

  Thalron’s eyes flicked to the enemy forces pushing toward them. He had never seen creatures like these before.

  The way they moved, unnatural and erratic, made it impossible to predict their attacks. Their bladed limbs struck against the stone walls, chipping away at the estate’s defenses. Their fang-filled maws opened too wide, releasing shrill screeches that sent ice down Thalron’s spine.

  There’s so many.

  He looked toward Arixa, but she gave no sign that she had heard him. She was lost in the battle, in the slaughter.

  Her demonic warhammer pulsed, its eerie, rhythmic throbbing intensifying with every kill. It drank in the carnage, feeding off her Ki, amplifying her strength beyond reason.

  One of the creatures, faster than the others, managed to land a blow—a brutal slash meant to carve through her back.

  It didn’t.

  The creature’s bladed limb struck her flesh but didn’t pierce. Instead, it skidded off her skin with a dull screech, leaving only a faint red mark. Arixa grinned as she turned to face her would-be attacker.

  "You think that’ll work?" she sneered.

  Before the beast could react, her free hand shot out, gripping it by the throat.

  The monster flailed, shrieking, its remaining limbs slashing wildly against her, but Arixa didn’t even flinch. Her grip tightened—bones crunched.

  Then, with a sickening pop, she crushed its skull with terrifying ease, tossing the twitching body aside like trash before leaping into the next group of enemies.

  Thalron, moving with precise efficiency, activated his Void Mana.

  Thalron flowed. A pivot, a cut—limbs severed before the creatures even felt pain.

  He stepped past them, his rapier tracing an arc of nothingness. Shadows consumed their wounds.

  Another beast lunged. His dagger flashed—two heads hit the ground before the bodies caught up.

  Then, from the far side of the wall, a new wave emerged—larger, faster, more numerous.

  Thalron’s sharp eyes took in their approach, estimating the time before impact.

  Not long.

  They needed to stop the horde before it reached the walls, or Kelcrest would be overwhelmed.

  "Arixa!" he called.

  For the first time since the battle started, she paused mid-swing, looking at him with bloodlust still blazing in her eyes.

  He pointed toward the horde. "Launch me at them."

  Her head tilted slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might be too far gone in her rage to comprehend. But then, her lips curled into a feral grin.

  "Now we’re talking."

  Arixa planted her feet, lowering her warhammer. The moment Thalron’s boots hit the flat of the hammer’s massive head, he bent his knees, coiling like a spring.

  "Ready?" she asked, though she was already swinging.

  "Do it," Thalron said.

  She swung with all her strength.

  The force was colossal.

  Thalron was launched like a missile, the sheer acceleration forcing him to activate his wind magic mid-flight just to stabilize himself.

  As he soared toward the enemy, he activated Fire Mana.

  His rapier and dagger ignited, flames coiling around his weapons as he twisted in the air, his body rotating into a spiraling buzzsaw of destruction.

  The beasts screeched as he collided with them like a burning comet.

  His spinning blades tore through them like paper, severing limbs, splitting torsos, setting bodies ablaze.

  One by one, they fell, their charred remains crumbling in his wake.

  By the time he landed, the ground behind him was a field of burning corpses.

  Thalron straightened, exhaling as he flicked the remaining embers from his rapier.

  The battle wasn’t over.

  Not even close.

  Across the burning city, Marcus staggered under another wave of creatures, frustration mounting. Stem’s voice broke urgently through his thoughts. "Marcus, these beasts do not belong to this world."

  Marcus dodged an attack, countering swiftly.

  Marcus felt something shift—the weight of understanding hitting him like a hammer.

  This wasn’t just an invasion. This wasn’t just a battle.

  This was the world breaking.

  "Stem," Marcus whispered. "Tell me this isn’t what I think it is."

  Stem’s silence stretched a moment too long.

  Then—

  "I can extrapolate no other conclusion."

  Marcus swallowed hard. His fists clenched. "Shit."

  Before Marcus could process further, The battlefield shook as something crashed down like a meteor, sending shockwaves through the ruins.

  Marcus and Vira tensed, bracing for another monstrosity.

  Then—the dust settled. A figure stood amidst the wreckage.

  Vealeth. Bloodied, beaten—but unbroken. His blade scraped against the stone, his breath ragged.

  He looked at Marcus, eyes burning despite the exhaustion.

  "You again," Vealeth murmured, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "It seems fate won’t let us walk separate paths."

  Marcus, despite the gravity of their situation, couldn't suppress a weary, ironic grin. "I was just thinking the same thing."