Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 159: Immortal Body

The moment Ezekiel saw Alex and Freya standing before the Grim Lord and its monstrous army, he froze.

His breath hitched.

His entire body went stiff.

The sheer horror on his face wasn’t just because of the nightmare-fueled creatures looming ahead.

It was Alex.

Alex scared him more than the Grim Lord itself.

A shiver ran down Ezekiel’s spine. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together.

No other players had appeared.

Only Alex and Freya.

Which meant…

Alex had killed them all.

Ezekiel swallowed hard, his throat dry as sand.

A part of him wanted to run.

To bolt in any direction, even if it meant throwing himself into the Grim Lord’s army.

But there was nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide.

They stood at the peak of the mountain.

The terrain was like a vast, circular arena, its edges glowing faintly with a shimmering magic barrier that loomed over them like an unbreakable dome.

There was no way out.

No hidden exits. No tricks. No escape.

One path remained.

Kill the final boss—Grim Lord.

That was the only way to survive.

The only way to leave this nightmare behind.

But for Ezekiel, that fight was already out of reach.

He wasn’t thinking about the Grim Lord.

He was thinking about Alex would do to him.

Slowly, Alex turned his head.

And he froze.

Alex was staring directly at him.

That gaze—cold, unreadable, piercing through him like a dagger.

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Ezekiel felt his body tense, a shudder running down his spine.

His instincts screamed at him to move.

To run.

To do something.

Because if Alex decided to kill him now—nothing could stop him.

Ezekiel had seen what he was capable of.

He knew what Alex had done to the others.

His breath came in shaky gasps.

He braced himself, waiting, expecting the worst.

But then, Alex looked away.

Just like that.

Ezekiel blinked, stunned.

Alex ignored him.

He turned his back and focused ahead—on the battlefield, on the towering beast waiting beyond.

Because to Alex, Ezekiel didn’t matter anymore.

After blasting the tank away, Alex had given the other players a chance to flee.

They didn’t take it.

They chose to attack him instead.

And now, they were dead.

Ezekiel didn’t attack and chose to flee.

And that—that single decision—would be what saved his life.

Alex had already noticed him when he first appeared.

But it wasn’t Ezekiel that made him turn.

It was the sound of battle.

The clash of steel.

The grunts of exertion.

The unmistakable sound of two warriors still fighting in the distance.

Alex’s gaze shifted.

Way behind them—Dorion and Onigi were still at it.

Still locked in combat.

Despite everything.

Despite the nightmare unfolding before them.

Despite the beast lord and his army waiting just ahead.

They fought as if none of it mattered.

Had they lost their minds?

Their weapons clashed again, sparks flying in the dim light of the twin moons.

Alex narrowed his eyes.

The old man—Onigi—was clearly in bad shape.

His breathing was ragged, his robes torn, and deep gashes marked his arms and legs. Blood dripped steadily onto the rocky ground beneath him.

And yet…

He looked thrilled.

Dorion, on the other hand, was physically fine.

His body was mostly untouched—only a few minor cuts on his clothes, barely a scratch compared to Onigi’s state.

By all logic, Dorion should have the advantage.

But his expression said otherwise.

He looked… uneasy.

Worried.

His stance was rigid, his grip on his weapon too tight.

Meanwhile, Onigi only grinned.

A wild, manic grin—like he had already won.

"It’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?" Onigi said, his voice eerily calm despite his wounds.

Dorion’s expression stiffened.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, struggling to keep his composure.

Onigi’s grin widened.

"At first, I thought you were immortal."

His bloodstained fingers twirled his blade, the motion smooth, almost casual.

"But then… I realized something."

"You’re not."

He took a step forward, his eyes sharp, predatory.

"You can only activate your immortality skill a certain number of times, can’t you?"

Dorion’s jaw clenched.

The amusement in Onigi’s eyes intensified.

"And once that limit is reached…All fatal injuries will remain fatal."

Dorion clicked his teeth in frustration.

His eyes narrowed, locking onto Onigi.

How…? How had this damn old man figured it out?

Dorion had been careful.

He hadn’t given away any tells—no hesitation, no slip-ups.

And yet… Onigi knew.

Dorion clenched his fists.

It wasn’t a guess.

Onigi had confirmed it with his own body.

This mad geezer.

Instead of playing it safe, he threw himself into the fight.

Taking reckless risks.

Letting himself get hit.

All just to see how many times Dorion could recover.

And because he was a far better fighter, he could land fatal hits—wounds that should have killed Dorion instantly.

But thanks to a skill Dorion possessed called [12 Immortal Body], Dorion had healed every time.

And Onigi had watched.

Studied.

Then struck again.

Again.

And again.

Pushing Dorion to activate his ability over and over.

Dorion’s stomach twisted.

He was running out.

The skill had a limit.

A fixed number of uses.

And now, he had burned through most of them…

And that terrified him.

Because now more than ever, he needed that skill as a backup.

Behind him stood the Grim Lord—the final boss.

A towering, unstoppable monster with hundreds of powerful creatures waiting at its command.

Dorion’s heart pounded.

He needed [12 Immortal Body] for that battle.

Not for this.

Not for some pointless fight with an old man who was willing to die just to prove a point.

And yet, here he was—burning through his last chances of survival.

It was frustrating.

But what pissed Dorion off even more was that the old man was holding something back.

Something powerful.

He could feel it.

A pressure lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.

Dorion’s grip on his scythe tightened.

If Onigi unleashed it, if he used up everything his body had left—That would be the end.

The old man grinned.

Then he attacked.

His blade became a blur.

Dorion barely had time to react.

His instincts screamed as he blocked, parried, and dodged with everything he had.

His scythe clashed against Onigi’s sword in rapid succession, sparks flying as metal met metal.

And all the while, Onigi was grinning.

Mocking him.

"What’s wrong young man?" Onigi teased between strikes. "I thought you were having fun earlier."

Dorion clicked his teeth.

Another flash of silver.

He narrowly avoided the blade, stepping back just in time.

He couldn’t counter.

Not without taking another fatal wound.

He was running out of options.

Onigi’s smirk widened.

"You fraud," he sneered. "You act like a maniac, but you’re not." Explore new worlds at novelbuddy

Dorion’s heart pounded.

"You only play the part," Onigi continued, his blade moving even faster. "But the moment your life is actually on the line..."

A heavy slash forced Dorion to retreat.

"...Your little facade breaks."

Onigi’s eyes gleamed.

"You’re easy to...