Apocalypse Baby

Chapter 104 Blighted Path

The air was heavy with tension, and the group was on edge after witnessing Bart's gruesome death.

Each of them stood frozen, the reality of the situation sinking in deeper with every passing second.

Ezekiel's sharp gaze remained locked on the beast, analyzing its every twitch and aura.

He muttered under his breath, loud enough for those nearby to hear:

"You heard the rules. Let's not be brash. That's how we survive this."

The woman who had screamed earlier clutched her arms, her voice trembling as she spoke, "D-Do we really have to face this thing now? It's… it's too scary."

Dorion scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"That's why it's called a nightmare, idiot. If you can't handle it, you should've just stayed outside and let the blight monsters kill you. Better that than standing here screaming and crying like a—"

"Watch your mouth, kid!" Freya snapped, his face tight with anger. "Her reaction's totally normal! Someone just died in front of us!"

Dorion smirked, shrugging as if it didn't matter.

"Well, praise the lord, we lost a fool. You told him not to go, and he still ran straight into his death. Why should I give a damn?"

"What are you, a psychopath?" the woman shot back, her voice rising. "How can you not be affected by seeing someone die like that? He burned alive! We all saw it!"

Dorion and the woman's argument continued to escalate, their voices echoing through the chamber.

Ezekiel stood to the side, silent but observant.

His sharp gaze never left Dorion.

The way the teenager's eyes narrowed, the way his fingers twitched at the hilt of his weapon—it was clear as day.

Dorion wanted to kill her.

Ezekiel wasn't surprised.

He had known from the beginning.

The kid carried himself with an unmistakable aura.

The kind of aura Ezekiel had come to know all too well.

He had spent years surrounded by killers, and they all had a distinct air about them. It wasn't something you could fake or hide. It clung to them like a second skin, a scent of violence and death that lingered even when they were calm.

And Dorion?

He reeked of it.

Ezekiel's stomach churned with disgust.

He couldn't fathom how someone so young could already carry the stench of a seasoned murderer.

It wasn't just unsettling—it was wrong.

But Ezekiel buried the thought.

This place was hell, and only monsters could survive here.

And there was no one more monstrous than the kid standing in front of him.

Dorion and the woman were inches from each other now, their argument boiling over. Their faces were flushed with anger, their voices sharp and biting.

The two were teetering on the edge, and Ezekiel could see it—one wrong word, one wrong move, and blood would be spilled.

So he clenched his jaw and stepped forward, like he always did and raised his hand sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Enough! Both of you!" he snapped, glaring at Dorion and Freya in turn.

"We've got bigger problems than your petty arguments. If we start killing each other now, none of us are making it out alive. The more we waste time-fighting, the lower our chances of survival get."

His tone dropped, firm but edged with urgency.

"Time is running out. Many of us only have a few days left before... well, you know what happens."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

Ezekiel's sharp eyes darted between Freya and Dorion.

"So bury your grudges. Set aside your hatred. We need to get past this first stage, or none of it will matter."

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Freya clenched her fists, her jaw tight, but she nodded first. "You're right."

Dorion rolled his eyes and said with a shrug.

"Whatever, unlike you guys, I'm not under any pressure. So I don't really care."

Choosing not to escalate the situation, Ezekiel turned back to the rest of the group.

"Alright, listen up. Let's focus on what we know."

He gestured toward the scorched line on the ground and the faint, blackened remnants where Bart had stood. The group shifted uncomfortably, some glancing at the monster, others looking at the floor to avoid the chilling sight.

"From what we've seen, stepping past the line triggers the monster's attention. If you take a step beyond that, you're set on fire—instantly. There's no time to dodge or react. It's game over."

The players exchanged uneasy glances, murmurs of fear rippling through the group.

"So how do we move forward?" asked the woman who had been crying earlier.

Desperation clear in her voice.

Freya stepped forward, her expression resolute. "I have an idea," she said, drawing everyone's attention. "From what we've seen, the monster can only focus on one person at a time. When Bart stepped past the line, it immediately locked onto him."

"I believe that if one person steps past the line, the monster's attention will turn to them. That would give someone else a chance to move forward while the monster is distracted. Once the monster shifts its focus to the second person, the first can keep moving. We can leapfrog our way forward, one at a time."

The group mulled over her words, some nodding in agreement, others still skeptical.

"But it's just a theory," Freya admitted. "We'd have to test it to be sure. And even then, there's no guarantee it'll work for all of us. If someone messes up, it could be a disaster."

Ezekiel crossed his arms, his face thoughtful. "It's risky, but it's the best plan we have right now."

Freya met his eyes, her voice firm. "One thing's for sure: no one can do this alone."

The group fell into silence again, the weight of the challenge ahead pressing down on them. Their eyes darting nervously toward the monstrous creature.

Dorion then broke the silence with a sharp, mocking tone.

"Okay... so, who's going first?"

His eyes scanned the group, daring anyone to step up.

No one moved.

They averted their gazes, shuffling awkwardly.

"You're the crazy one," Freya muttered. "You should go first."

Dorion glared at her, his lips curling into a sneer. "You bitch!"

"Enough," Ezekiel interrupted, his voice firm but calm. "I'll go first."

Everyone turned to him, their expressions a mix of relief and anxiety.

"As the leader, it's my responsibility," Ezekiel continued. "But everyone else will have to follow. Like Freya said, no one can do this alone."

The group fell silent again, the weight of his words sinking in.

Ezekiel took a deep breath, steeling himself.

He stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat like a drum echoing in his ears.

His hands felt clammy, his palms slick with sweat despite the freezing cold.

He kept his eyes locked on the creature, studying its every twitch and breath. It hadn't moved yet, but its presence was suffocating.

As he neared the line, the others watched him intently, their breaths held.

Ezekiel halted just in front of the visible boundary, which looked like a line drawn with chalk. Ahead of him was another drawn line most like the finish line.

And the distance to get there was about 50 yards. It wasn't too long. But Ezekiel knew once he started it would feel endless.

His foot hovered above the ground, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

If he crossed this line, there was no turning back.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath.

And with a final exhale, he stepped forward, his boot crossing the line.