Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 257: Caught In An Hurricane.

Alex's eyes locked on Tharnok's broken form—sprawled at the far edge of the arena, a monstrous silhouette half-buried in fractured stone.

The aftermath of Arcane Dominion's rebound had launched him like a meteor, carving a brutal trail of destruction across the battlefield.

Cracks, dust, and debris marked the path of devastation.

And yet…

He wasn't unconscious.

Somehow—somehow—the Vorakan was still awake.

Alex's brows tightened.

His eyes glowed faintly as [Omni View] activated, zooming in with crystal clarity.

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He saw it.

Tharnok's body was trembling.

His massive chest rose and fell with jagged, pained breaths.

Cracks ran across his armored skin like shattered glass. His muscles twitched, spasming under the strain of his own unstoppable strength.

And then Alex spotted it.

Just ahead of Tharnok's hand—a deep groove, dug straight into the stone.

A clawed finger, thick and brutal, had scraped through the solid arena floor, gouging out a trench. Not by accident.

Deliberately.

Tharnok had clawed the ground to slow himself down—to stop his momentum just enough to keep from falling off the edge.

Insane.

That was the only word to describe Tharnok's tenacity.

Insane.

The crowd—who moments ago had been screaming for blood and battle—fell into a stunned, collective silence.

Not because they didn't want to cheer…

But because they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Then, slowly, the murmurs began.

"Did anyone see that?"

"What was that shield?"

"It reflected Tharnok's attack…"

Whispers spread like wildfire, picking up speed with every second. Eyes widened. Minds raced. What had looked like a one-sided massacre... suddenly wasn't.

For the first time—they started looking at Alex differently.

Not just as a brave challenger.

But as a real contender.

"Maybe this won't be so one-sided after all…"

The atmosphere shifted.

Like a spark catching dry leaves—anticipation lit up the air.

A flicker of respect passed through the crowd.

But not all were convinced.

Some still held doubt.

"It was a lucky shot."

"It's a Vorakan we're talking about."

"They don't lose to anyone. Ever."

"He isn't done yet."

Alex didn't care for the comments.

He wasn't about to give Tharnok a second chance.

So he stepped forward, arm outstretched, palm glowing with power.

He used Exploding Touch—several crackling, invisible explosion disks forming in the air, each one humming with concentrated force—as he AMPED them.

His target? Tharnok's battered body.

To finish it before the beast could recover.

But then—

"Ghhhrrhhh…"

A low, guttural groan cut through the battlefield like a blade.

Alex's eyes snapped to the source.

Tharnok was moving.

Slowly. Painfully.

But rising.

One hand dug into the ground. Muscles tensed as blood dripped down his chin.

But still—he stood.

"No way," Alex exclaimed, directing the disk toward Tharnok.

He could still end this.

The explosion disk was just inches from reaching Tharnok's body—when suddenly, his entire frame tensed.

Like a spring coiling tight.

Then—

BOOM!

He launched forward like a missile, the ground beneath him cracking from the force.

A blur of raw muscle and rage tore through the air, heading straight for Alex.

Alex clicked his teeth in frustration but was ready to react.

Tharnok's hand reached out, fingers wide, aiming to clamp around Alex's throat.

But he wasn't as fast as before.

The damage from earlier had slowed him—just enough for Alex to strike first.

Alex, unfazed, uttered the word:

"Dominus."

The word left his lips like a command from a king.

The air shimmered for a heartbeat—and everything stopped.

Tharnok's body froze mid-air, suspended in motion.

Muscles strained. Veins bulged.

His eyes burned with fury—

But he couldn't move.

It was like time itself had grabbed him by the throat.

His limbs twitched, fighting to move.

But the ability held strong.

Alex's eyes then flared—twin stars igniting in his sockets, blazing with raw, unfiltered power—as he used Solar Judgement.

Then—

FWOOSH!

Two beams of searing energy burst from his gaze, slicing through the air like divine wrath.

They slammed into Tharnok's chest—

Direct hit.

The force blasted him backward, flipping the massive warrior like a ragdoll. He crashed hard into the arena floor, armor hissing and cracking, smoke trailing off his scorched body.

His chest was a mess of blackened, glowing molten lines—like lightning had been etched into his skin.

Tharnok groaned, raising his head slowly. Ash and steam curled off his flesh.

His eyes locked on Alex.

But Alex was gone.

His body had vanished in a blink, slipping into the shadows like smoke in the wind as he activated Void Shroud.

Tharnok sprang to his feet, body still smoldering, breaths coming hard and heavy.

His head snapped left, then right.

Searching.

But there was no trace of Alex.

Not a footstep. Not a shadow.

And that's when the storm began—from nowhere.

CLANG!

A spectral blade slammed into Tharnok's shoulder from the left—the impact jarring, sharp, and vicious.

He snarled, spinning to strike back—

But there was nothing there.

Just empty air.

SHINK!

Another blade sliced into his thigh from behind. Tharnok let out a guttural roar of pain, staggering forward.

Then—the sky lit up.

White-hot beams of energy came raining down from above—homing streaks of magic, like arrows fired by the gods themselves—along with dozens of spectral blades.

Tharnok raised his arms, bracing.

CRACK!BOOM!SLASH!

The beams tore through his guard, striking his armor, his skin, and his pride.

The air shook with every hit.

And the assault didn't stop.

It just kept coming.

Relentless. Precise. Unseen.

Alex was everywhere and nowhere—and Tharnok was being picked apart, piece by piece.

Then came the ice shards—razor-sharp lances of frozen death, slicing through the air at breakneck speed.

They whistled like daggers and exploded on impact, each one bursting in a spray of frost and crystal.

The barrage was relentless.

CRACK!BOOM!SHHHHH!

Tharnok growled like a cornered beast, his body spinning and shifting as he tried to parry and dodge the incoming storm.

But it was chaos.

A symphony of destruction playing at full volume.

Alex was like a ghost.

Unseen and silent.

A phantom puppeteer, striking from every direction with surgical precision.

And Tharnok?

He was a tank caught in a hurricane.

His body staggered, blasted by fire, ice, and raw force—cuts across his chest, burns along his back, and frostbite creeping up his limbs.

And still…

He didn't fall.

Blood dripped from his elbows, running in thin streams. Steam hissed from his mouth with every breath, his lungs working like engines on the brink of collapse.

But Tharnok wouldn't give in.

Because losing...

Losing didn't come easy for him.