Apocalypse Baby

Kaelen tilted his head, a slow, mocking grin creeping across his lips as he studied Alex.

"So Sylen was your measuring stick?" he sneered. "That pathetic wretch has always been a loser. Weak. Soft. No drive, no discipline. Just a whining shadow of what an elf should be."

His tone was cold—elegant, but razor-edged.

"He ran from his lineage, spat on his birthright, and traded it all just to kneel before the God of Death like a mutt begging for scraps."

Alex didn't respond. His gaze stayed fixed, unflinching.

Kaelen's smile faltered, just for a moment. A flicker of something beneath the surface twitched in his eyes. Then, he stepped forward, his voice lowering into something almost intimate.

"But you, human... as abominable as you are… your potential is undeniable. That's the only reason I'm here. You've drawn attention."

He said it like a confession—reluctant, laced with distaste.

"You disgust me. Everything about you—your energy, your body, the stench of your warped essence. But power doesn't care for purity, does it?"

Still, Alex remained motionless, barely paying Kaelen any attention and this pissed the elf off.

"Oh, I see. You think you're above listening. Typical ape-blooded filth. Can't read a room. Can't grasp nuance unless it's carved into stone and shouted in grunts."

Alex's eyes narrowed slightly, but his posture never changed. No twitch. No reaction. Just silence.

Kaelen's smile twisted. His words grew sharper. Crueler.

"You reek of unstable magic and poor breeding. A mud-born crawler, clawing up a ladder you were never meant to see. What are you really, Alex? A failed experiment?"

"That's enough."

Adam's voice struck like thunder. He stepped forward, placing himself between them, posture squared, expression stone-solid.

"You've said your piece," Adam said coldly. "Now back off."

Kaelen turned, locking eyes with him.

Adam didn't flinch.

"Still playing the noble guardian, I see," Kaelen murmured. "Careful, Adam. Pretend long enough, and you might start believing it."

Adam's jaw tightened. "Better that than becoming a lapdog for fading bloodlines and dead traditions."

Kaelen's eyes twitched.

"Careful," he hissed, voice dropping to a whisper. "I may be an elf, but I'm quite animalistic when it comes to breaking things."

"Then try me," Adam said flatly.

But before the tension could fully settle, another voice thundered across the crystal bridge.

"He will not join your pantheon, pale one."

The air shifted.

A massive figure stepped through the mist, each footfall sending a dull tremor through the bridge. Eight feet tall. Plated in black natural armor etched with glowing red sigils. Eyes burning like coals in a skull of polished steel.

A Vorakan.

Alex turned. The presence hit like a gravitational pull—dense, heavy, absolute. There was no attempt at subtlety. This was declared power, not hidden.

The Vorakan slammed a fist against his chest. "I am Korrum, Chosen of Ruin. My deity finds you worthy, Alex. You seek power. He offers it."

"I disagree."

A new voice.

A second figure emerged from the fog—slim, half-cloaked in shadow. His robes drifted like smoke. Fur lined his arms and calves. His feet were clawed. A pale mask with narrow slits covered his face—clearly non-human.

An Anima.

Half-beast. Half-man.

He stopped beside Korrum, silent yet wholly present—like a void given form.

"I disagree," he repeated, voice calm.

Then he turned to Alex.

"He would serve better under Earth. Not Ruin. Gaia has watched him for some time. She sees what lies beneath."

Alex didn't respond. He figured she had been watching since he drank the cockatrice egg back in the tutorial.

Still, he wasn't moved.

Mostly, he was just tired of being *noticed*.

And then, as if fate were mocking him, a fourth figure stepped forward—taller than Korrum, thinner than the Anima, with glowing eyes embedded in a bark-like face. His features looked carved from wood, animated by something primal. Moss clung to his shoulders. Flowers bloomed along his chest. Each step he took left trailing roots that curled and vanished.

He was like Vess—if Vess had chugged five espressos, grown a tongue, and enrolled in a theater program.

"Oh! Is this the one you mentioned?" he said brightly, pointing a vine-like finger at Alex. "He *is* different! I can smell the root-flame in his blood. Is that horn functional? Fascinating! Are those condensed energy pathways? Beautiful!"

Alex blinked. "Who—?"

"I'm Vayren!" the tree-man declared with flair, thumping his leafy chest. "Chosen of the Bloomed Sky. My deity has *so many* questions about your structure. He would love to dissect—I mean *study*—you. Alive, of course. Preferably."

"Right," Alex muttered. "Preferably."

Vayren leaned in far too close. "Would you like to hear the benefits of photosynthesis infusion? You'll never have to eat breakfast again."

Alex stared. "Photo... what?"

Beside him, Adam groaned.

Now they were five.

Adam. The elf. The Vorakan. The Anima. The overly chatty Groot. All circling Alex like apex predators unsure whether to worship him, recruit him—or take a bite.

Two figures still hadn't moved. One was a silver-haired monk wrapped in crimson beads, standing in silence. The other... darker. Cloaked. Watching.

The rest?

They were beginning to unravel.

"He's not a dreamer," Korrum growled. "He devours. He climbs. He breaks. That is the path of Ruin."

"You mean brute force," the Anima countered softly.

"Oh, please," Vayren interjected. "You're all so serious. Come to Bloomed Sky, Alex! We have mirth. We have *air dancing*! We have literal fruit!"

Adam cut in, sharp: "He's not interested."

Kaelen smirked. "That's bold, considering he didn't pick you either."

"And there's no way he's picking *you*," Adam snapped.

"If he has a brain, he will."

Korrum stepped forward. "Let him speak for himself."

"Wait, wait, I haven't even made my pitch yet!" Vayren said, waving a branchy hand. "Alex, imagine an eternity of serenity among blooming clouds—"

"Enough," Alex said, voice low, but firm.

No one heard him.

They were bickering now. Bragging. Shouting over one another.

Kaelen insulted Korrum's "barbarian god." Korrum called Kaelen's deity a "glorified corpse." The Anima watched in silence. Vayren tried to hand Alex a flower.

Alex sighed, ran a hand down his face, and turned away. His boots tapped quietly on the crystalline bridge as he stepped toward the edge.

No one followed.

They kept arguing.

He exhaled long and slow.

*This feels like hell,* he thought.

"Thank god my system's down," he muttered. "Or this would be a spam war in my HUD right now."

He closed his eyes for a second.

Just to breathe.

Then—he felt it.

A presence.

Cold.

Razor-sharp.

Quiet.

It didn't demand attention. Didn't roar or shout.

It simply... *watched*.

Alex turned.

Slowly.

And locked eyes with the one figure who still hadn't moved.

A demon.

He stood at the far end of the bridge, arms crossed, black robes rippling in an unseen wind. Horns curled back from his temples. Obsidian skin cracked with veins of slow-burning red fire. But his eyes—

They weren't hungry. Weren't desperate. Weren't pleading.

They burned with animosity.

Alex didn't blink.

He held the demon's gaze another moment. Long enough to feel the weight behind it. Long enough to understand.

This wasn't just hostility.

It was personal.