Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 64: A Demon: Plea

The thought consumed Luther, and his breathing quickened, ragged and shallow.

How… how did he level up so fast?

Did Alex slay some high-ranking beast? Was he being supported by a god?

The questions tumbled through Luther’s mind, one after another, but no answers came.

Each possibility felt more impossible than the last.

His confusion turned to dread.

He couldn’t understand the stranger’s intentions. What did Alex want? What was he going to do next?

But one thing was certain—this stranger wasn’t going to let him live.

The weight of Alex’s gaze bore down on Luther, suffocating and unrelenting.

It wasn’t just the pain in his body that paralyzed him; it was the overwhelming presence of the man in front of him.

Alex wasn’t human.

He felt like something entirely otherworldly.

A demon. A deity.

Luther couldn’t tell which, but the aura Alex exuded was inhuman and unstoppable.

The stranger’s eyes stayed fixed on him, sharp and all-encompassing.

Luther tried—wanted—to meet Alex’s gaze, to show even a shred of defiance.

But he couldn’t.

It was as though looking into those eyes would pull him into an endless void, a darkness from which he’d never return.

The feeling struck him deeply, eerily similar to the terror he had felt when standing before the Blood Monarch.

And then, something shifted.

Reality seemed to tear apart at the edges, and Luther suddenly found himself somewhere else entirely.

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The space was surreal, an eerie realm bathed in crimson.

Thick, twisting red vines pulsated around him, their surfaces slick and dripping with blood.

The air was heavy, suffused with a pressure so intense it made his knees buckle.

Then came the voice.

Deep, guttural, and otherworldly, it echoed through the strange space, penetrating Luther’s very soul.

The eerie voice had promised Luther power, but at a cost:

Kill other players as sacrifices.

Luther hadn’t hesitated.

He and his group had already taken lives before—what was a few more if it meant gaining divine favor?

But now, as he lay beaten and broken, all his companions dead within a single day of making the pact, a flood of doubts consumed him.

Was it worth it?

The question echoed in his mind, tormenting him.

Am I going to die like this?

Surely not. He had the backing of a god. That had to count for something, right?

Unless… the Blood Monarch was a fraud.

Luther’s mind raced, desperate for answers.

The god he had sworn loyalty to had to intervene, had to grant him the strength to deal with the demon standing before him.

He just needed to ask.

As these thoughts filled his head, a flicker of hope sparked in his eyes.

Alex noticed the shift immediately.

Luther’s once defeated expression now carried a glimmer of determination, and Alex’s sharp gaze narrowed.

That hope... It wasn’t allowed.

Alex’s expression darkened like a storm cloud.

Hope was something he intended to crush completely.

Without a word, Alex stepped closer, his every movement deliberate. His hand reached down and grabbed one of Luther’s trembling fingers.

Luther froze, a chill running through him.

With a quick motion, Alex snapped the finger back.

CRACK.

"AAARGH!" Luther screamed, the searing pain ripping through his body like fire.

Alex crouched to eye level, his voice cold and taunting. "Still holding onto hope, are we? Let’s see how long that lasts."

The flicker of hope in Luther’s eyes began to waver, replaced by a growing fear.

Alex’s expression didn’t soften.

"AARGH!"

Luther’s scream tore through the forest, his voice raw and filled with agony.

Alex didn’t flinch. He didn’t pause. His hand moved to the next finger, gripping it tightly.

CRACK.

Another finger broken.

Luther’s cries grew louder, desperate, and unrelenting. The forest seemed to absorb the sound, amplifying the torment.

But Alex’s expression remained cold, his face devoid of sympathy. He wasn’t done yet.

Finger after finger, the brutal snapping continued, each break accompanied by Luther’s anguished screams.

By the time Alex reached Luther’s pinky—the last unbroken finger—Luther’s body was trembling uncontrollably. His face was soaked with sweat and tears.

"Please... stop!" Luther’s voice cracked, his plea weak and pitiful.

Alex crouched closer, his eyes dark and unyielding as he grabbed the pinky.

"Stop?" Alex said, his voice eerily calm. "A dead man doesn’t need fingers."

SNAP.

The pinky broke like the others.

Luther collapsed to the ground, clutching his mangled hand as tears streamed down his face. The pain was unbearable, radiating through his entire body.

He sobbed uncontrollably, his pride and composure shattered. For the first time, he felt completely powerless.

"Why... why are you doing this?" Luther managed to choke out between gasps and cries, his voice trembling.

Alex stood over him, towering like a shadow of judgment. His cold, unfeeling eyes locked onto Luther’s.

"There’s no ’why,’" Alex said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "This isn’t torment. It’s a lesson."

Luther stared up at him, his broken hand cradled to his chest.

The words made no sense, and yet, the cold finality in Alex’s tone sent shivers through him.

"I see your left hand still has all its fingers intact," Alex said, his voice calm but laced with menace. He tilted his head, his cold gaze fixed on Luther.

"We should continue with that."

Luther’s entire body trembled at the statement. The thought of enduring another round of finger-breaking was unbearable. Panic surged through him as his eyes darted around, finally landing on the dagger lying just out of reach.

Desperation overtook him. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, he lunged for the blade and gripped it tightly. His breathing was ragged as he raised it, aiming directly for Alex’s neck.

But before he could even think about striking, his wrist twisted sharply.

CRACK!

The sound echoed in his ears.

Luther’s fingers went numb as the dagger slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground.

He stared in horror at his arm, now bent at an unnatural angle.

A guttural sound escaped his throat as his brain registered the injury, but the shock delayed the pain.

His arm dangled uselessly at his side, and his wide eyes locked onto Alex in terror.

"Seriously?" Alex said, shaking his head.

"How are you this stupid? If you were truly desperate to avoid more pain, you should’ve just used that dagger to end yourself."

Luther’s lips parted as if to respond, but before he could say a word, Alex’s backhand struck him with brutal force.

WHAM!

Luther’s body flew through the air like a rag doll, slamming into the ground several feet away.

Dirt and debris scattered upon impact, and a weak groan escaped him as he struggled to move.

Alex let out a heavy sigh as stood up slowly, brushing nonexistent dust off his pants, shaking his head as if bored with the entire ordeal.

He looked down at Luther with a mix of disdain and mild annoyance.

Then, his expression darkened.

"It’s time to finish this."

Luther squirmed on the ground, his body convulsing with pain and his groans echoing through the forest.

His vision blurred from the sheer agony, but his mind latched onto a desperate thought.

I can’t die like this.

He bit his lip so hard it drew blood, his entire body trembling.

His resolve hardened.

It didn’t matter what he had to do or how much it would cost—not even his own life. If it meant taking Alex down, he’d pay any price.

Through clenched teeth, he began to whisper, his voice low but filled with desperation.

"I know you can hear me. I don’t care what I have to sacrifice. Give me the strength to take down the demon in front of me."

Alex, standing a short distance away, tilted his head, his sharp hearing picking up Luther’s words.

His lips curved into a mocking grin as his eyes gleamed with cold amusement.

"Oh, you’re praying," Alex said, his tone dripping with disdain.

He raised his hand, fingers poised as though preparing to snap.

"How quaint. But it’s futile. No god can save you."

Luther ignored him, his lips moving feverishly as he continued his plea.

He had no other choice.

Against Alex, he was powerless.

He had nothing left to lose.

And then it happened.

The air shifted.

Time itself seemed to screech to a halt.

The vibrant colors of the forest drained away, replaced by a stark black-and-white world.

Falling leaves froze mid-air, suspended like still frames in a picture.

Even Alex stood motionless, his mocking grin frozen on his face.

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Luther’s labored breaths slowed as a wicked grin spread across his face.

It worked.

The Blood Monarch had responded.

The oppressive silence was then broken by a deep, resonant voice echoing in his ears, a voice that carried the weight of dread and power.

[Why is a dead man calling out to me?]

Luther’s grin faltered, confusion flickering across his face.

"…What?"

Luther muttered, his voice barely audible.

The voice spoke again, its tone dripping with contempt.

[Get lost.]