Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 279: Next Battle

The arena froze.

For a heartbeat, everything held its breath.

Then—

It exploded.

The silence shattered like glass as the crowd erupted.

Cheers surged like a tidal wave slamming into the cliffs.

Thousands of voices roared all at once, the sound rising into the sky in a storm of wild, thunderous praise.

Brakka's mangled body had vanished into the abyss—and the spectators lost their minds.

Some fans screamed Sylen's name, fists raised high.

Others just yelled, the kind of wordless, explosive shout that came from watching something unbelievable.

In the middle of the chaos—

Sylen didn't move. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

He stood at the arena's edge. One foot planted. The other still hovered in the air, mid-kick—the one that had sent Brakka flying.

His cloak rippled behind him, still caught in the aftershock.

Tendrils of shadow curled around his arms and legs, slow to fade, like they weren't ready to let go.

The wind howled past.

But Sylen was still.

Silent.

Eyes locked on the void.

He watched—calm, unmoving—as Brakka disappeared into the endless black.

Then, finally, he lowered his foot.

A quiet sigh left his lips.

His shoulders relaxed. The iron tension melted from his frame.

His hands uncurled.

The deathly haze on his bow shimmered once, then vanished.

The summoned shadows peeled off him like mist dissolving at dawn, slipping back to whatever realm they came from.

Then—

FLASH.

A proctor shimmered into the arena, his voice sharp and steady as it rang out over the cheering crowd.

"Match concluded. The winner of the match: Sylen Vael."

The words struck like a hammer.

The crowd roared even louder, the echo of their celebration shaking the stands.

The proctor turned toward Sylen, nodding once.

"You will return to the VIP combatant zone to recover and rest for your next match. Good job."

A column of pale-blue light surged around Sylen.

Magic hummed in the air.

He didn't smile.

Didn't bow.

Didn't raise his hand in victory.

He just looked... relieved.

Then there was a flicker.

The world shifted, and the arena vanished in a blink, swallowed by light.

A moment later, Sylen stood in the return zone.

The floor was cold stone.

Ancient runes glowed faintly along tall, carved pillars.

The sound of the crowd was still there, but distant now. Like thunder rumbling far beyond the mountains.

And in the corner, next to the viewing screen, two figures stood waiting:

Alex and Grugrim.

Clap. Clap.

Alex stood with a casual grin, giving a slow, deliberate clap. Then he tilted his head slightly.

"Nice fight."

Sylen's eyes flicked over to him, sharp as a blade, cold as frost. Totally unreadable.

Then with a snort, he turned away without a word, cloak shifting behind him.

Alex chuckled under his breath.

"Alright, ice prince."

Beside them, Grugrim stood with arms crossed, his thick beard tightly braided and hanging over his chest. He let out a long grunt and shook his head like a disappointed parent.

"Show a little gratitude, pointy-ears," he grumbled. "It's not like you won easily. You nearly got folded in half."

Sylen didn't react.

Didn't speak.

He just kept walking, silent as ever.

Grugrim sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up like this was the hundredth time.

Then he turned to Alex with a tired look.

"Don't mind him. Rudeness is in his blood. All elves are like that?"

Alex laughed, shrugging. That was... well, expected.

He glanced over at the giant arena screen, and his eyes narrowed.

Next Matchup: [Grugrim vs Malik]

Showtime.

Alex turned toward the dwarf, who now rolled his shoulders.

CRUNCH.

The sound of metal grinding echoed from his armor.

"You nervous?"

Grugrim didn't even blink. He gave a single, firm nod.

"Aye."

Grugrim's face was serious, gaze locked forward like a soldier heading into battle.

But then he spoke again, this time tightening the bracer on his forearm with a slow, deliberate pull.

"But I'm confident in my strength. Whether or not it's enough… well, that's what we're about to find out."

He stepped forward, resting a heavy, calloused hand on Alex's shoulder. Just for a moment.

It was brief, but solid. The kind of gesture that said a lot without needing the words.

"Put that sword to good use, lad. Only you can."

WHOOSH.

In an instant, blue runes flared beneath Grugrim's feet.

Magic symbols glowed brighter and brighter—

FLASH.

And just like that, the dwarf vanished in a swirl of glowing light, pulled into the arena for battle.

Alex then turned towards Malik across the chamber, who sat cross-legged, eyes closed, still as a statue. His skin shimmered with faint embers—like a coal just waiting to be disturbed.

Then he rose slowly with a smooth motion, and instantly there was a shift in the atmosphere.

The heat in the room spiked subtly.

Not unbearable—but noticeable, like standing a little too close to a forge.

Malik opened his eyes, and the faint fire within them pulsed.

Then he, too, vanished in a burst of light without a sound.

Alex then returned his attention to the viewing screen.

Below two figures below stood across from each other in the grand arena now—one broad and battle-scarred, armored in ancient dwarven steel laced with runes.

The other was tall and bare-chested, horns curling from his brow like a crown, black tattoos etched across crimson skin that pulsed with restrained power.

The crowd erupted once again, louder than before.

They knew they were going to see some insane display of power here.

Alex stepped closer to the viewing platform, heart pounding. Somewhere behind him, Vess let out a low whistle.

And even the stoic, silent Sylen had turned to watch, eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight.

All of them knew.

Malik was the strongest.

And they wanted to see what the Demon could do and how Grugrim fared.

Who knows, there might be an upset.

Anything could happen.

The projection flared brighter as Malik took one slow step forward, the stone beneath his feet sizzling faintly from the heat.

Grugrim stared at him without fear, hammer slung over his shoulder, eyes burning with ironclad resolve.

Alex's lips curled slightly.

"A battle between a dwarf and a demon," he muttered.

"This'll be fun."