Apocalypse Baby

Freya's response was instant. Her voice didn't waver.

"I didn't."

She held his gaze, unwavering.

"Because I know there's no escape without him. And so far? He's proving me right."

Ezekiel was silent for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he finally spoke.

"Well, not everyone is like you."

His voice was low, steady.

"Most people don't try to see the good in others. They don't try to believe in it. And they sure as hell don't make excuses for the bad. Some people are just bad—plain and simple. Being too understanding? That's a quick way to get killed in a situation like this."

Freya's frown deepened.

Hypocrisy.

That's all she heard in his words.

Before this nightmare began, Ezekiel had been the one trying to do good.

He had been the one saying they needed to work together, that he would lead them out of this trial.

But the moment things got rough?

He abandoned all of that.

He chose himself over everyone else.

Sure, maybe his actions were justified.

After all, when he needed help, no one had stepped forward—except Dorion.

But if he could understand that the people who tried to kill Alex were just desperate...

Then, shouldn't he also understand that they were scared?

He couldn't have it both ways.

He couldn't call others cowards while doing the exact same thing.

Now, as Freya looked at him, all she saw was someone pathetic—a man who refused to take responsibility for his own actions and only ever found fault in others.

Freya narrowed her eyes at Ezekiel, her voice sharp and cutting.

"You... you don't know how to take accountability, do you?"

Ezekiel's lips parted slightly as if he wanted to respond, but before he could—

"Of course he doesn't."

A familiar voice interrupted.

Freya turned just as Dorion walked toward them, his steps slow and heavy with exhaustion. His body was still battered from earlier, but his eyes burned with anger.

"That's why he left me alone to face the old man after we shared the points I got from killing his daughter."

Silence.

Ezekiel looked down. His face was unreadable, but his body spoke volumes. Shoulders tense. Fists clenched.

He wasn't denying it.

Freya's breath caught. Her eyes widened in shock.

Wait… it's true?

She turned fully toward Ezekiel, searching his face, but his gaze never lifted from the ground.

Freya's chest tightened. He was worse than she thought.

Then—

A guttural, gurgling noise filled the air, low and unnatural, like something choking on its own breath.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

What the hell—?

Before she could react, an invisible force exploded outward from the center of their group, sending shockwaves rippling through the air.

A crushing impact slammed into her body, launching her off her feet.

"UGH—!"

She tumbled, her back scraping against the rough ground as she rolled several meters before finally coming to a stop. Dust clouded her vision.

Pain shot through her limbs as she groaned, forcing herself to push up on shaky arms.

Her breath was ragged. Her heart pounded.

They had gotten distracted.

In the middle of a battlefield, they had let their guard down—completely unaware of their surroundings.

For a brief second, Freya thought an airborne creature had crashed down in the middle of them. But as she forced herself up, wincing at the ache in her limbs, she saw the truth.

Right in front of her, a glowing energy gate shimmered into existence.

It looked similar to the trial gates that transported players to the next stage—but something about this one felt… wrong.

Then—something stepped through.

A figure emerged from the gate, moving with slow, deliberate steps.

Freya's breath caught in her throat as she focused on it.

The first thing she noticed was the bow it held.

The second was the way it moved.

Unlike the usual undead with their stiff, unnatural motions, this one walked with control. Precision. Purpose.

Then she saw the armor.

Her stomach dropped.

The armor was familiar. Explore new worlds at My Virtual Library Empire

She had seen it before.

Then, a notification appeared atop it.

[Undead Player: Xeno]

Freya's eyes widened.

"No way..."

She recognized this undead.

The archer from the second trial.

The one she had killed.

Her hands trembled.

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest.

"What... what the hell is this?"

Compared to Freya, who faced only a single undead player—

Ezekiel was approached by multiple.

At first, he couldn't process what he was seeing.

His mind refused to believe it. But then, one by one, the names began flashing before his eyes:

[Undead Player Sally][Undead Player Marcus][Undead Player Isaac][Undead Player Micah]...[Undead Player Bart]

The moment he read the last name, his body froze.

"No… this can't be real."

He recognized every single one of them.

These were not just undead.

These were the players who had died in the first round.

Their lifeless eyes, once filled with desperation and fear, were now empty sockets glowing with a sinister light. Their bodies moved with purpose, not like mindless husks, but like something aware.

Ezekiel's breath hitched.

His fingers twitched around the handle of his weapon.

"What… what sick game is this?"

Dorion was still on the ground, wincing in pain. He had spent more time groaning on the ground, and when he finally pushed himself up, it wasn't by choice—

The undead attacked.

Dorion barely had a second to react.

He gritted his teeth and threw himself backward, narrowly avoiding a vicious swipe aimed at his chest.

He landed hard but managed to roll to his feet, his breathing ragged.

Then—he saw it.

An undead walking toward him.

At first, he didn't pay it much attention.

But something seemed off about it.

Unlike the others he'd killed so far, this one moved differently.

Smoother. More controlled. More alive.

Dorion's brow furrowed.

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the figure.

The way it walked. The stance. The armor.

Then a notification flashed.

[Undead Player Kiri]

The world blurred.

His stomach twisted into knots.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

No. No way.

He recognized her immediately.

The girl he had killed.

Onigi's daughter.

His fingers tightened around his scythe.

His breath came out sharp and shaky.

Then, his expression darkened.

"You bitch."

The word spat out before he even realized he had spoken.

Because of her...

Because of her, Onigi had marked him for death.

Because of her, he had lost his most powerful skill.

His vision turned red.

A deep, guttural rage boiled up from within him.

His body moved before his mind could stop it.

And with a raw shout, he lunged forward, scythe raised high, ready to cut her down again.

The undead let out a low, rasping growl, a sound that felt almost… resentful.

Then, with eerie speed, she met him head-on.