Apocalypse Baby

Alex's eyes narrowed.

His hand hovered for a second, then pressed down against Tharnok's frail, broken body.

The skin beneath his palm was cold, slick with blood that still oozed out in slow, steady streams.

Then he activated [Mimicry].

A soft hum sparked to life beneath his skin.

It was subtle at first. A faint vibration, like static crawling through his veins.

Then came the shimmer.

It rolled over his arms and shoulders like liquid glass—an invisible current flowing into him from Tharnok's dying body.

Alex's breath caught in his throat.

His fingers twitched.

Then he received a notification.

Ding!

[Mimicry Successful]

[Target – Tharnok the Vorakan]

[Acquired Innate Ability: Amplification (Rank E)]

[Amplification: Increases physical strength by 20% through the use of Emi.]

Alex was excited by the success.

So this was it.

This was the ability Tharnok used to throw punches like meteors.

The skill that let him fight with brute force until his body gave out.

It wasn't much—just the E-Rank version. A watered-down copy. The lowest form of the ability.

Most likely nowhere near what Tharnok could do at full power.

But even so, He wasn't complaining.

E-Rank or not, it was his now.

And he had the perfect tool to grow the skill.

One that could evolve skills with a couple of exchanges.

But as much as he wanted to upgrade his skill, he couldn't do it yet.

His system hadn't fully caught up since awakening his Emi.

And without that full upgrade…

He was stuck.

Without the system active, he couldn't reallocate the stat he'd lose when he used the attribute converter..

He was going against real New Realm players.

Players who were far stronger than he was.

So he needed his attribute at the max.

He couldn't risk getting one-shot killed like Tharnok had almost done to him because he was eager to upgrade an ability.

But then—

Ding!

A notification appeared, and as Alex read it, he smirked.

Guess there's no reason to wait anymore.

[System Upgrade Complete]

[Advanced Features Unlocked]

The words flashed across his vision in cool, glowing lines.

Alex grinned, a sharp rush of excitement buzzing in his chest.

Finally.

But before the moment could settle—

Another notification appeared.

Blinking red, which indicated its urgency.

[Warning: Mana Critically Low]

Alex's wasn't too surprised.

Of course.

This was bound to happen.

Exploding Touch.

Spectral Barrage.

Arcane Dominion.

Godhand.

The fusion of Cryoforge and Metamass into a Glacial Bomb...

They'd all drained him of a massive pool of his mana.

And then there was Exsanguinate, which he was using to kill Tharnok. Still active.

Still bleeding mana at 50MP per second.

Alex returned his gaze to the body in front of him.

Tharnok was a wreck.

Blood-soaked. Shaking. Barely conscious.

But still alive. Still breathing.

Like a bug that refused to die.

"Resilient bastard."

With a flick of his fingers, Alex deactivated {Exsanguinate}—cutting off the energy flow tethered to Tharnok's dying body. The invisible link snapped like a cord, and the draining sensation in Alex's chest finally faded.

He rolled his shoulder once, cracked his neck, then reached into his inventory.

With a flash of red light, Scarlet Fang appeared in his hand.

He was going to end this the old-fashioned way—By getting his hands dirty.

Across from him, Tharnok stirred.

Barely.

The Vorakan's head lifted slightly, muscles trembling under the weight of his own broken body. One eye was swollen completely shut. The other—barely open—still burned with dying hate.

"You… won't win the selections," he spat weakly.

Alex didn't respond.

He didn't need to.

He wasn't the one bleeding into the dirt.

Without hesitation, he raised the blade—and drove it down into Tharnok's skull.

CRUNCH.

A wet, bone-splitting sound echoed across the arena.

Then silence.

Tharnok's body went still. Completely still.

And then—

BOOM.

His body burst into flares of golden light, vanishing into a pillar of shimmering energy.

Alex exhaled slowly, watching light scatter into the air.

And just as he rose to his feet, the proctor descended, landing with a gust of wind that kicked up dust, lifting his staff into the air.

Then the proctor's voice thundered, amplified through magic.

"ALEX KNIGHT, THE TUTORIAL PLAYER, ADVANCES TO THE NEXT ROUND!"

The crowd exploded.

Screams. Whistles. A wave of thunderous cheers crashed through the coliseum, shaking the very stone beneath their feet..

"Did you see that?!"

"He just executed a Vorakan without even blinking!"

"And he's a newbie?! What the hell is in his blood?!"

The arena buzzed like a hornet's nest.

People were screaming, pointing, chanting his name like a war drum—"ALEX! ALEX! ALEX!"

But Alex didn't even flinch.

He barely even looked at them.

Their cheers? White noise.

He wasn't here for praise.

He wasn't here to feel like a hero.

He was here to win.

Alex brought his fingers toward the air, ready to pull up his system interface. He wanted to check what the upgrade fuss was all about.

But then—

A calm voice rang out behind him.

"Congratulations on the victory, Alex Knight."

Alex blinked and turned slightly, eyes narrowing.

The proctor hovered a few feet off the ground, robes billowing gently from the floating platform. Its voice was smooth.

"Thanks," Alex replied, guarded.

He remembered how the last proctor sounded—robotic, all-business. This one sounded cheerful.

But that made it worse.

Because its face was still a swirling mass of energy, void of eyes, mouth, or anything human.

"Since you are to move to the next round," the proctor continued, "you will now be transported to the VIP Combatant Zone above."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"VIP zone, huh?"

"A place where you can recover," the proctor added, "and watch the battles of your competitors."

Alex nodded slowly.

"Really…cool."

It was perfect.

He could study the other fighters, memorize their skills, analyze weaknesses, and plan.

"Then," the proctor said, lifting a glowing hand, "without further ado—"

Snap.

The sound echoed like a popped balloon.

In an instant, Alex's body dissolved into starlight.

And then—

Flash.

Alex reappeared in a sleek, high-tech chamber.

Glass walls. Floating screens. Plush seating.

The VIP Combatant Zone.

The room shimmered with clean, metallic walls. Blue light pulsed softly from glowing panels along the edges, giving it a sleek, futuristic feel. Stretching across one side was a massive panoramic window, offering a perfect view of the arena below.

This was a private sanctuary built for players in the Legacy Trial—A place to rest, recover… and observe.

It wasn't just a lounge. It was a safehouse.

Protected from outside interference and shielded from anyone or being who might come with unwanted intentions.

Alex appeared in a flicker of light.

Feet touching down on polished steel floors.

The moment he materialized, his eyes scanned the room.

And then—he felt it.

A subtle shift in the air. A quiet tension.

He wasn't alone.

His brow twitched as he slowly turned.

Others were already here.

The ones he'd be fighting soon.

Some lounged casually on high-tech couches, eyes half-lidded in boredom. Others stood near the window, arms crossed, staring at the ruckus scene of the crowd below.

But all of them snapped toward him the second he arrived.

Eyes locked.

Some stared with curiosity. Others with a sharp, cold edge already sizing him up like he was prey… or a threat.

Alex didn't flinch.

Instead, he folded his arms and stared back.

Unfazed.

His gaze met theirs—steady, unreadable.

So… this was his competition.

His lips twitched.

Not in fear. Not in doubt.

But something else.

Excitement.