Apocalypse Baby

Alex stood still, his blade held low and loose in his grip.

Then, with a flick of his hand and a pulse of system light, he whispered:

[Doppelking].

In an instant, seven identical versions of himself snapped into existence, standing in a wide arc behind him, each with matching posture, identical blades, and identical glints in their eyes.

Although Alex's ability enabled him to summon 10 clones.

He could summon seven clones of himself at a moment, as three of his clones were still active in the tutorial.

Sylen's eyes narrowed behind the face of his mecha-deity.

The sudden presence of seven versions of Alex made him uneasy.

Was it a bluff?

Were they just distractions?

Are they real?

Sylen remained still, studying every detail.

If it were a trick, it was a perfect one.

If it wasn't…

He'd just been forced into a fight where Alex now had seven bodies.

Even worse was that Alex wasn't done.

Not even close.

He exhaled then muttered, mostly to himself.

"This might be overkill..."

"But..."

Sylen's summoning of Noctherion prompted this.

Alex raised both hands, fingers locked together, and in a cold, clear voice, he uttered, activating Hellmarch:

"Summon Archfiend: Varkos."

The moment the words fell from his lips, the world shifted.

In an instant, a sharp breath drew fog from his lips.

Above them, the clouds spiraled into a vortex, swirling in tight spirals as lightning sparked in the center—void lightning, black and violet, ripping silently across the sky like death riding on wind.

Darkness reigned, and beneath Alex, the arena cracked.

A perfect circle of fractures tore outward from his feet, the stone glowing as ancient runes erupted to life. They pulsed red. Infernal.

Then the symbols began to spin—slow at first, then gaining speed until they became a blur of demonic geometry.

Alex's shadow twisted.

Then stretched.

Then—split.

And then...

A jagged claw erupted from within, tearing through reality like it was paper.

It dragged itself upward, black talons scraping against the visible edge of the summoning circle, crackling with void lightning that hissed and flared with unnatural sparks.

The summoning ring shrieked—literally screamed—sparks flying as the very ground shook beneath them.

Then the whispers came.

Soft at first.

Then louder.

Babbling. Chanting. Screeching.

And then—

From the heart of the blazing summoning circle, Varkos rose, like a god of war pulled straight from some forsaken plane of torment.

His ascent was slow.

Deliberate.

Each motion rippled with restrained destruction, as though he were savoring his return to the physical world after eons of slumber.

The arena shook beneath him.

His massive form stood tall, towering over Alex.

A demon wrapped in abyssal black armor, every inch of it jagged and laced with glowing runes that pulsed like veins. His shoulders were broad, his chest heaving with shallow, guttural breaths. Furnace-like eyes glared out from under his silver-plated helm, casting the world in a hellish red hue.

In his right hand—

A blade that hummed with pure, violent energy, purple lightning danced across its length in arcs, crackling like furious serpents lashing the air.

And when his feet touched the earth—

BOOOOOOOM!!!

The ground shattered.

Stone splintered like ice. The crater widened beneath him. Dust erupted into the air like a bomb had gone off.

The pressure from his mere presence hit the crowd like a shockwave.

It was like death had arrived with a crown.

Varkos' skin was silver, but dulled—burnished by countless battles.

A flowing cloak of shadowed ether wrapped around his legs like ghostly pants, shifting unnaturally with each movement.

Chains bound his wrists and ankles—thick, ancient ones, etched with the runes of a thousand deaths. They clanked and hissed like living things as he moved.

He breathed slowly, heavily—each exhale a growl.

His voice never came, but his aura did, and crushed the air.

Made it heavy.

Almost unbreathable.

And Sylen… felt it.

The moment Varkos locked eyes on him, Sylen's body went heavy.

He flinched without meaning to.

What the hell is this…? Sylen thought, heart pounding.

Its aura was as intense as Malik's had been. Maybe worse.

Sylen's heart began to pound.

This was bad.

Not only had Alex summoned seven clones.

But now…this.

This isn't just difficult, Sylen thought, sweat trailing down his temple. This is impossible.

He clenched his fist and quickly pulled out a dark orb from his inventory—sealed weapons of last resort, each humming with unstable shadow energy.

He had planned to save them.

For his fight against Malik, whom he believed was the biggest threat.

But now?

At this rate… he wouldn't even make it past Alex.

Meanwhile, Alex stood calm.

Unshaken.

Watching his masterpiece rise with quiet awe.

This wasn't the same Varkos he had fought in the nightmare.

This was an evolved version of the fiend.

An S-Rank Varkos.

Hellmarch perfected.

Its presence wasn't just intimidating, it was also haunting.

The crowd had gone silent.

And the arena felt like a graveyard.

The horrific display terrified the crowd. Even with the barrier, the chilling aura of death still prickled at their skin.

Varkos was fully present, then turned his monstrous head toward Alex, his chains rattling.

Awaiting orders.

Alex then raised one hand and pointed at Sylen, whose heart skipped a beat on seeing this gesture. Then he grinned:

"I want his head."

A single sentence.

A command laced with conviction.

And Varkos, eager to serve, roared in response.

A sound so deep and primal that it made the barriers around the arena vibrate.

Then, dragging his sword behind him like an executioner's guillotine, he began to move, each step thundering with violent sparks.

Sylen's heart thudded once more.

Louder this time.

Faster.

He gritted his teeth, eyes blazing with determination.

He needed to act past his fear.

Sylen then took a step forward and screamed out his own command to his summons, his voice echoing like a war horn.

"ATTACK!!"

His summoned army responded as one, surging towards Varkos, and the clash was about to begin.

But then, in one second, Varkos stopped lightning singing off him.

And in the next, a distortion, then he was gone.