Apocalypse Baby

Chapter 77 Damn Monkey: Inferno

The monkey's corpse erupted into a fiery explosion, the flames roaring outward with enough force to consume everything in the room.

The shockwave blasted through the entrance, the intense heat and light spilling out like a violent beacon.

The explosion reverberated through the hill, shaking the ground and sending vibrations into the forest below.

Outside, the monkeys froze, their ears ringing as they stared wide-eyed at the summit.

Flames licked the sky, smoke curling ominously upward.

Panic set in immediately.

High-pitched hoots and frenzied screeches filled the air as the monkeys began to scatter in fear.

Others yelled in their guttural language, gesturing toward the blazing peak, their concern for their king clear.

The high-ranking monkeys acted swiftly, their sharp instincts cutting through the chaos.

Instead of wasting time with the winding stone stairs, they leaped onto the ropes hanging from the summit's edge, climbing rapidly toward the explosion to check the king's fate.

Hidden nearby, Alex grinned, crouched low among the shadows of the forest. "Perfect."

The trap had worked flawlessly.

Earlier, when he'd pinned the Monkey Acolyte to the ground, Alex had activated [Exploding Touch].

He set the delayed detonation so it would go off when the Acolyte got close to the king. And it had.

The level-up notifications came one after another, his stats climbing as kill after kill was confirmed.

Tutorial points racked up quickly, a satisfying bonus.

But one notification was missing: the death of the Monkey King.

Alex let out a disappointed sigh.

"So, the boss survived, huh? Too bad. I was hoping to wipe them all out in one go."

His grin returned, sharper than before, as he stood and rested his blade on his shoulder.

No matter. This just means I get to finish the job myself.

The Monkey King was strong—perhaps even stronger than the enhanced form of the Cockatrice King Alex had faced before.

Despite the nervous energy twisting in his chest, Alex felt a burning eagerness. He was ready to send this beast six feet under.

Alex's sharp gaze shifted to the monkeys milling about in the outer ring below.

Their panicked movements made it clear they were still distracted by the aftermath of the explosion.

They hooted and grunted in confusion, trying to piece together what had happened.

Alex smirked.

Perfect. Let's add to the chaos.

Reaching into his pouch, he grabbed a handful of Blastshards, the jagged stones cool and heavy in his palm.

Without hesitation, he flung them in a wide arc, scattering the shards toward the unsuspecting crowd below.

The first few monkeys noticed small objects pelting the ground, one even getting struck on the head by a shard.

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It let out a yelp and rubbed its skull, glancing upward in annoyance.

Others turned their attention skyward as the shards rained down, their expressions a mix of confusion and curiosity.

One monkey tilted its head as if wondering if this was some prank by a mischievous juvenile.

Then, a distinct sound cut through the air.

SCHICK

The monkeys froze, the noise chilling them to their core. Slowly, they turned their heads.

Standing amidst their group was a tall figure cloaked in a long coat, his blade glinting with fresh blood. In one hand, he held the severed heads of two of their own.

A savage grin spread across Alex's face as he locked eyes with the terrified crowd.

The decapitated monkey's body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud, its lifeless form stirring dust as it fell.

The remaining monkeys stared, their faces frozen in shock and disbelief. Fear spread like wildfire through the group. How had this human—a stranger—gotten so close without anyone noticing?

One of the monkeys, shaking off the paralyzing terror, let out a panicked cry. "Enemy!" it screeched, its hoot rising above the chaos.

The warning seemed to break the spell, and the others erupted into a frenzy of hoots and growls. Among them, a particularly burly monkey wielding a massive, jagged axe stomped forward, its face twisted in fury.

"Human!" the monkey snarled, its powerful voice cutting through the din.

"You'll pay for that!"

Alex, unfazed, let the severed heads he held drop to the ground.

They hit with a dull thump, the sight only heightening the monkeys' rage.

Calmly, he raised a single finger, his expression ice-cold.

"Unlikely."

BOOM!

Another explosion tore through the base, shaking the ground violently.

The shockwave sent debris flying, and a cloud of dust and smoke rose into the air.

The blast was so loud it echoed throughout the entire hill.

Monkeys in the middle ring of the base froze at first, their eyes wide as the realization set in: they were under attack.

Their instincts took over.

High-pitched hoots filled the air as they scrambled for weapons—clubs, axes, and even makeshift shields—grabbing anything they could find.

Chaos erupted as they geared up, barking orders to one another while hurrying toward the source of the explosion.

Meanwhile, at the summit, the high-ranking monkeys stood in uneasy silence, staring at the burning pavilion.

Flames danced wildly, casting long, flickering shadows across the rocky ground.

The once-proud structure creaked ominously, threatening to collapse at any moment.

They paced nervously, their anxious murmurs barely audible over the crackling fire.

One of the monkeys, a shaman draped in tattered robes, stepped forward.

Leaning on his intricately carved staff, he muttered an incantation.

The air around him shimmered as he prepared to summon water magic to extinguish the flames.

But before he could finish, a shadow emerged from the inferno.

The figure walked with deliberate, measured steps, its outline growing clearer as it moved through the haze.

Small in stature but commanding in presence, it carried a spear in one hand, its head held high.

A glint of gold reflected in the firelight—it was wearing a crown.

Gasps rippled through the assembled monkeys.

Some of the others let out quiet sighs, their bodies relaxing slightly.

But not all of them were pleased.

The more ambitious among them clenched their fists, their eyes narrowing.

They had hoped the fire would take care of the King, clearing the way for their own rise to power.

The Monkey King stepped into the open, his appearance both commanding and battered. Parts of his once-pristine fur were singed, scorched patches stark against his otherwise golden coat. His sharp eyes blazed with fury, reflecting the fire behind him.

His grip on the spear tightened as he scanned the gathered monkeys, his expression a mixture of anger and pain.

He had survived—but only barely.

The King had managed to use a powerful defensive skill to shield himself from the worst of the explosion. But the attack had caught him off guard, and he hadn't activated it in time to avoid injury.

The burns on his body were already healing, his regenerative abilities kicking in, but the sting of pain lingered, fueling his rage.

A mere D-rank human had caused this.

His teeth clenched, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his spear harder.

Unacceptable.

The King's gaze hardened. This wasn't just an attack on his kingdom; it was a humiliation.

Two more figures emerged from the smoke and flames, their movements slow and labored.

It was the Monkey King's personal guard and his shaman.

Both were injured, but the guard was in far worse condition.

His armor was scorched and dented, his breathing shallow, while the shaman, though burned, carried himself with eerie composure.

The shaman, a gaunt figure draped in dark robes adorned with feathers and bones, glanced at the fallen guard with a cold, calculating gaze.

Without hesitation, he walked over, his gnarled staff tapping the ground with each step.

Kneeling beside the guard, the shaman placed a skeletal hand on his companion's head.

At first, nothing happened. Then, a sickening change began.

The guard's body started to wither, his muscles shrinking as his fur dulled and fell away.

His eyes sunk into his skull, his breath rattling before ceasing altogether.

Meanwhile, the shaman's own form straightened, his wounds closing as vitality surged back into his body.

The burns on his skin faded as if they had never existed, and a cruel grin spread across his face.

The monkeys watching from the distance froze, their wide eyes betraying a mix of fear and disgust.

Some whispered nervously, while others gripped their weapons tighter, unsure whether to stay or run.

They all knew how cruel the shaman could be.

They had witnessed his experiments firsthand—twisted trials where fellow monkeys were used as nothing more than test subjects.

This shaman was second only to the Monkey King in rank, and he respected no one but his liege.

His cruel methods and disregard for the lives of others were tolerated because of his power.

The Monkey King allowed him to act freely, knowing the shaman's abilities were a weapon in their arsenal.

As the shaman rose to his feet, his voice dripped with venom as he addressed the King.

"A mere human dares to come here alone? Don't worry, my King. We will...

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Authors Note:

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