Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 166: Never Killed
Onigi was launched off his feet, gritting his teeth as his body tumbled through the air.
But before he could fully crash, he lunged forward, twisting midair at the last second.
His boots skidded across the frozen ground, absorbing most of the impact.
He slid back a few meters before coming to a halt, one knee bent, hand pressing into the ice to steady himself.
He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the frigid air.
That was close.
Lifting his head, he finally took a proper look at his attacker.
A massive, skeletal undead, its hollow eyes burning with eerie light.
Onigi’s frown deepened.
He had been so focused on fighting Dorion that he hadn’t realized what was happening around him.
His sharp eyes scanned the battlefield.
Alex and his clone were still locked in combat with the Grim.
Freya and Ezekiel fought alongside them, their weapons flashing as they struck down lesser undead.
The battle was raging on.
His chest heaved, his body shaking from exhaustion.
Their fight had drained him.
The undead were charging toward him, their rotting forms sprinting across the icy battlefield.
Onigi glanced at them, but he wasn’t worried.
He still had enough strength to deal with the lesser undead.
The Grimlord, however…
His gaze flicked back to Dorion, eyes narrowing.
Dorion’s severed head lay still on the ground. His body remained motionless, lifeless.
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The undead ignored him completely.
That meant only one thing:
He was truly dead.
Onigi let out a slow, relieved exhale, his breath visible in the cold air.
It’s over.
He had won. He had gotten his revenge.
But there was no time to celebrate.
The battle wasn’t finished.
He gripped his katana tightly, feeling the strain in his tired muscles.
With what little mana he had left, he channeled it into his body, reinforcing his movements. His limbs felt heavier than before, exhaustion creeping in, but he forced himself to move.
His sharp eyes locked onto the undead beast barreling toward him.
With a thunderous roar, it swung its massive arm down, aiming to crush him.
Onigi dodged in a blur, sliding to the side with practiced ease.
Then...
SHING!
His blade sliced clean through the monster, parting flesh and bone like butter.
The beast didn’t even have time to react—its body fell apart, collapsing in a heap.
But more monsters emerged, their grotesque forms closing in on him.
Onigi remained calm.
Unlike his fight with Dorion, where he had pushed himself to his absolute limit, this time, he conserved his energy.
His movements were sharp and efficient.
Minimal steps. Precise slashes.
Each swing of his blade cut down an enemy in a single stroke.
He moved like a seasoned warrior, his every motion flowing like poetry—lethal, yet beautiful.
In a matter of moments, the battlefield was littered with corpses.
Only one enemy remained.
A lava giant.
Its molten body crackled with heat, glowing like a living furnace.
Onigi steadied his breath, raising his blade once more.
He sidestepped the stream of molten lava the giant unleashed, the scorching heat singeing the air around him.
With a swift motion, he swung his katana, slicing through the lava giant’s bony limb.
CRACK!
The severed limb crashed to the ground, molten rock splattering in all directions.
But the monster wasn’t finished.
Its mouth bubbled, flames surging from within its throat, building up for a devastating attack.
Onigi’s eyes narrowed.
I have to end this now.
He dashed forward, his blade poised to strike.
With a single, powerful swing—
SHING!
His sword cut through the beast.
But, something was wrong.
Onigi’s instincts screamed.
A presence—dangerous, familiar—right behind him.
And before he could react...
SHNK!
A curved blade burst through his chest, piercing straight through his body.
Cough—!
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Onigi’s breath hitched. Blood spilled from his mouth.
His vision blurred, his body paralyzed in shock.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his head.
Dorion.
Alive. Smirking. Eyes filled with malice.
The young warrior grinned wickedly, his scythe still impaled through Onigi.
Blood dripped from the blade.
Dorion lifted Onigi off the ground, his grip unrelenting.
The old man winced, feeling his strength fading.
He had been so sure Dorion was dead.
But he had been wrong.
Dorion tilted his head, a smug smirk curling on his bloodstained lips.
"I don’t think you’re dumb enough not to realize," he said, voice dripping with mockery.
Onigi gritted his teeth, struggling to breathe as blood trickled from his mouth.
Dorion leaned in slightly, his voice lowering into a chilling whisper.
"Or don’t tell me… you’ve never killed here before?"
Onigi’s eyes widened slightly.
Dorion chuckled darkly.
"That’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t know… because you’ve never done it."
The old man remained silent, his body trembling from pain and realization.
Dorion’s smirk deepened.
"Whenever you kill someone, you get a notification. Didn’t see one, did you?"
Onigi frowned, his mind racing.
A notification?
He was supposed to see a notification. He never knew that.
Onigi sighed in deafed.
He had never killed anyone in the Nightmare.
Not even in the Tutorial.
He had always avoided unnecessary bloodshed, preferring to hunt monsters instead of taking another person’s life.
Whenever there was conflict, he left it to Kato.
But this time was different.
His daughter had been killed.
Murdered.
For Nightmare Points.
And he had snapped.
For the first time, he had wanted revenge—not just any revenge, but death.
Dorion’s death.
And yet… he had failed.
Because he misunderstood.
Because he had been careless.
Because he had underestimated the boy’s ability.
He thought Dorion’s regeneration was automatic.
But now he realized—Dorion could control the timing.
Onigi let out a weak, bitter laugh, despite the agony searing through his body.
What a broken ability.
Dorion’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the grin spreading across Onigi’s bloodied face.
His frown deepened.
Why the hell was this old man grinning?
Inside, Dorion was boiling with rage.
His body tensed, and his fingers tightened around the bloodstained scythe.
Then, he opened his system window—and his heart sank.
[12 Immortal Body]—gone.
Not on cooldown.
Not disabled.
Completely erased.
His breath hitched.
That was his last revival—his ultimate trump card.
The skill granted by the Blood Monarch himself meant to make him unstoppable.
A warrior who could never truly die.
And he had burned through all of it in a single fight.
His teeth clenched hard.
"Damn it!"
Dorion could hardly believe it. He had wasted his most powerful ability—one that should have made him invincible.
And the worst part?
It was all thanks to this old man.
Just thinking about Onigi made his blood boil.
He had planned to be the unkillable nightmare, the enemy who always came back, but now—
Now, if he died...
He would die for good.
Dorion exhaled sharply, forcing himself to push the frustration down.
Then...
THUD
THUD
THUD
Heavy footsteps echoed through the battlefield.
Dorion’s gaze snapped to the side—more undead were approaching.
He stiffened.
He wasn’t at full strength, and his chances of survival had just plummeted.
"Damn it."
Frustration burned inside him as he jerked his scythe free, sending Onigi flying off the blade.
THUD!
The old man groaned in pain, tumbling across the ground before slamming into a wall with a sickening crunch.
Dorion didn’t waste another second.
He whirled around—his eyes locked onto the horde of undead advancing toward him.
His grip on the scythe tightened.
He had already lost his strongest skill—the one thing that made him unstoppable.
His frustration boiled over, his teeth gritting hard as he cursed under his breath.
Damn it!
With a fierce roar, Dorion lunged forward, scythe raised high, charging straight at the undead horde.
*
Meanwhile…
Freya and Ezekiel were locked in battle, their movements a blur as they cut down the undead one after another.
But no matter how many they killed, more kept coming.
The battlefield was becoming a nightmare.
And there was no end in sight.
Ezekiel swung his blade, cleaving through the wave of undead skeletons swarming in front of him.
CRACK!
He bashed another with his shield, shattering its ribcage into a spray of brittle bone.
But in the heat of battle, he missed one.
WHAM!
A skeleton on his blind side swung a massive hammer—slamming it into his side with bone-crushing force.
Ezekiel was launched off his feet—his body hurtling through the air before crashing hard onto the ground.
THUD!
Pain exploded through his body. Blood dripped from his lips. His muscles throbbed in agony.
More undead were closing in.
He had to move. Now.
But his body wouldn’t respond.
Freya saw it happen.
Her eyes flashed cold.
She instantly activated Ghost Mode—her form flickering like a phantom as she vanished from sight and reappeared mid-dash.
SLASH!
She cut down two skeletons without breaking stride, their bodies collapsing into dust behind her.
She reached the attacker in an instant.
SHINK!
Her blade pierced its skull, the undead jerking before going limp.
But then...
A massive shadow loomed over her.
Freya’s eyes snapped upward.
Above her, a giant undead had raised a colossal hammer, ready to bring it crashing down on her.
She had no time to dodge.
WHOOSH!
SLICE!
