Apocalypse: My Talent Is Infinite

The spectators were all staring at the battle of three against one, holding their breath in anticipation.

"To think D-One would be reduced to such a state by one man… even needing to gang up on him."

A middle-aged man wearing only a singlet and boxers muttered under his breath.

A patch covered one of his eyes as he watched the standoff between Aron and the trio. "Guess he isn't as invincible as he was said to be."

"Saint…" murmured an odd-looking man wearing a full suit under the hot sun.

His voice trembled as he looked at the battle, clearly shaken.

"Such arrogance. Such strength. The Saint."

A cute woman in her twenties whispered with admiration.

Her hair was slicked back, and despite being dressed in nightwear meant for sleep, a long, sharp spear rested across her back.

Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at Aron, who stood against three people with no sign of fear or hesitation.

Around them, the crowd whispered in disbelief.

Some were fearful, some amazed, others simply confused.

Yet most of them stayed quiet, watching the lone man who refused to retreat.

High above, on a distant rooftop, two people, a young man and a woman, watched the scene unfold.

"You know how many shoulders I've got? One, two, three, four…" the young man began counting, touching his right shoulder with his left hand, then switching sides before reaching out toward the shoulder beside him.

But before his hands could touch her, a sudden chill ran down his spine.

"If your filthy hands touch me again," the woman said in a cool, refreshing tone, "death will be the least of your worries."

Cough, cough…

Lordmoonlight faked a cough, straightening the hat atop his head.

"You're no fun," he said with exaggerated frustration before turning back to the battlefield.

"Didn't you say you hated conflict? Why are you still here?" he asked casually.

Instead of answering, Jergenmay tilted her head. "What kind of talent do you think your friend has?"

"My friend?" Lordmoonlight's brow arched as his eyes stayed fixed on Aron.

"My friend," Lordmoonlight echoed with a grin. "That's a fun way to put it."

Jergenmay turned to him in surprise.

"What are you so surprised for?" Lordmoonlight said, his tone light and playful.

"You know the saying, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

"Enemies? That's unexpected," Jergenmay replied.

Her gaze flicked from the battlefield, where her cousin was fighting Aron, back to Lordmoonlight, who had a carefree expression.

"Why would…"

Before she could finish, Lordmoonlight smiled knowingly. "Before you say it, my answer is still no. I'm not interested. You're not my type."

Jergenmay, realizing he was dodging the question, turned her attention back to the fight.

"You wish," she murmured, though not without leaving a remark.

Lordmoonlight grinned triumphantly, his eyes gleaming as he focused back on the chaos below.

---

D-One and his team, noticing Aron momentarily lost in thought, attacked first, hoping to catch him off guard.

Aron's danger sense suddenly flared, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He looked at the charging trio with pity, watching their movements as if in slow motion.

D-One charged in, anger and humiliation burning in his eyes.

Having to rely on his teammates to defeat someone he considered beneath him wounded his pride deeply.

But even he knew his ego wasn't worth dying for.

Aron's potential was far too dangerous to underestimate, they couldn't risk letting him escape.

Aron stood still, his expression calm yet filled with contempt.

D-One's fist was already an inch from his chin when his face twisted into ruthless resolve.

Ana's kick shot toward Aron's abdomen, while Levi lunged forward, his knife aimed straight for Aron's heart.

Just as their attacks were about to connect, a cold breeze swept through the field.

---

The spectators, who were watching with bated breath, froze.

Their eyes widened in horror at the sight before them.

Jergenmay and Lordmoonlight glanced at one another, thinking it was an illusion, but the shock in the other's eyes said otherwise.

Lordmoonlight's smile faltered.

His usual easygoing expression vanished as he stared at the bloody scene.

It all happened in an instant, like the blink of an eye.

One moment, D-One's team was attacking.

The next, D-One and Ana were kneeling in their own blood, faintly breathing, their chests rising ever so slightly.

Levi's head, however, lay on the ground, eyes still blinking, as if not yet aware that it had been separated from his body.

His body itself was gone, torn apart into scattered pieces of flesh and cloth.

A chill ran down the spectators' spines. Several people fled the scene outright, unable to keep watching.

Aron stood there, calm as ever, a bloodied short knife in his grasp.

The moment Levi died, he could feel the other two's energy reverting to their original levels, their boost gone with their comrade's death.

His expression remained composed, but inside, Aron frowned.

The first time he fought D-One, he'd thought his inability to kill him was simply because he wasn't strong enough.

But after this? He knew that wasn't the case.

No matter what he did, something unseen seemed to be protecting D-One and Ana, something that refused to let them die.

Levi, however, had no such protection.

His death only reinforced Aron's theory.

He had cut their tongues, stabbed them, even tried impaling their throats, but nothing worked.

They wouldn't die.

Aron sighed inwardly.

He had no plans to let any of them live.

Even after the upgrade of his ability, he was still only able to claim one talent at a time, and each of theirs cost over a million points.

Killing D-One and letting the other two escape, to later claim their talent would've been the rational choice.

But Aron didn't care about power. He never did.

He only wanted to reach his goal, and anyone who stood in his way would die.

If someone were to tell his story, they'd call him petty, a villain gone berserk over childhood trauma or heartbreak.

(So what if I am?)

(So what if the reason wasn't grand enough?)

(Who could stop him?)

Anything that walked, spoke, or breathed the wrong way, that wasn't to his liking, he would erase it, period.

The world could burn for all he cared.

Unlike D-One and Ana, whose auras had now dropped back to their normal rank, Aron checked his timer. Four seconds remained.

His eyes turned cold, his killing intent flaring as old memories resurfaced, pain, betrayal, and fury feeding the pressure in the air.

D-One, bloodied and barely conscious, lifted his head weakly. His lips parted.

But instead of his usual rough voice, a soft, feminine tone came out.

"Please… spare them. Or Solara, and everyone in it, will die."