Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 277: Shadow Knights
Alex leaned forward, eyes wide as smoke curled off the battlefield below.
His heart thumped loudly in his ears.
Whatever just happened... it wasn't a simple block.
A skeletal hand had caught Brakka's spiked mace, and the aura now emanating from Sylen was shifting the entire arena's energy. Like a different person—a predator—had entered the ring.
What the hell is that? he muttered to himself.
It seemed like a summon. Something like his own ability, Summon Archfiend.
Then, from beside Alex, a deep voice grunted.
"You're seein' somethin' rare, lad."
Alex turned to find a stocky figure now beside him, arms crossed, watching the arena with solemn intensity.
Grugrim.
He had finally finished all the tinkering he was doing in the corner and joined Alex to watch the rest of the battle between the elf and the Kruckle.
Grugrim's gaze flicked to the tall, bloodied elf now shrouded in a dark aura. Then he began to speak.
"That elf down there... he ain't just a good archer. He's a legacy holder," Grugrim said. "Carries the brand of Nuxaris—the Shadow Sovereign."
Alex blinked.
Nuxaris?
He remembered seeing that name on the list of deities that had contacted him when he upgraded all his skills to S-rank. He'd skipped it back then, along with all the other proposals from the deities.
But this was what being a legacy of Nuxaris looked like.
"And the bony hand?" Alex asked, eyes narrowing.
"One o' his shadow-forged," Grugrim said, voice low. "Necromancers transform the souls of the dead into elite shadows who treat their summoner like a king. It's really powerful—and also rare. An elf necromancer? Even rarer. Sylen becoming one came with a cost. His people pretty much disowned him. Put a bounty on his head. To elf-kind, he's an abomination."
Alex said nothing, eyes drifting back to the arena.
He wasn't interested in Sylen's backstory.
He was already thinking ahead.
That maybe—just maybe—he could copy Sylen's necromancy skill if they met in the next round.
Yeah...
Alex liked the idea.
He liked it a lot.
Down in the arena...
Sylen stood tall. Calm. Even regal. As if this had always been part of the plan. Then his voice echoed like a bell tolling across the battlefield.
"Arise, My Shadow Knights."
A shockwave pulsed from beneath his feet—dark, pulsing tendrils of energy weaving into the cracked ground, spreading like roots.
The skeletal hand still clutching Brakka's mace surged with black flame.
Then—
It moved.
The rest of the body launched upward in a single, fluid motion.
A towering figure emerged from the earth, fully formed. Eight feet tall. Boar-headed. Armored in jagged black metal that smoked at the edges. Glowing tusks curled forward like daggers. Its chest, stitched from shadows, pulsed with every step as it fully materialized.
A Shadow Knight.
Boar-born and death-bound.
Its eyes burned a furious violet as it ripped the mace from Brakka's grasp, then backhanded the massive Kruckle across the arena.
BOOM!
Brakka slammed into the ground, kicking up a crater of dirt.
The crowd gasped, awed by the sight.
To think they would witness a legacy holder of the notorious deity Nuxaris.
The legacy trial was truly something else.
Brakka, despite the hit, wasn't down for long.
With a growl, he twisted mid-skid, jammed his foot down, and launched back into the fray—fangs bared.
He came in swinging, a furious uppercut aimed at the Shadow Knight's throat.
WHAM!
The strike connected—but the knight didn't budge.
Instead, it caught the fist mid-air, twisted, and threw Brakka straight up like a doll.
Before Brakka could land, three more shadows erupted from the ground like living weapons.
A jackal knight. A multi-armed serpent. A lean, four-eyed harpy wreathed in black feathers.
They needed no commands.
They were born for war.
They struck together in perfect rhythm, tearing into Brakka mid-air.
SLASH!
CRACK!
THUD!
Brakka's body twisted under the barrage, crashing back into the arena with thunderous force. His blood hit the stone like raindrops.
But then...
He laughed.
Low and guttural at first—then full-throated and wild.
Red lightning exploded from his back, curling up his arms like angry veins.
"Yessss..." he growled, eyes wide with bloodlust. "Now we're talking!"
The arena trembled beneath the surge of power.
Crimson energy arced from his skin like wildfire, crackling against the dark.
His body grew—muscles thickening, bones popping, eyes glowing molten red.
The Boar summoned the rest of the shadows behind as the three new summons charged Brakka again.
Pumped with power, Brakka slammed his hands together.
BOOM!
A concussive blast blew the three shadow summons away with pure force.
One struck the barrier protecting the crowd—like a shattered puppet.
SPLAT.
Then slid off, falling into the endless expanse below.
The second and third tumbled toward the arena's edge—one falling, the other barely catching itself.
The surviving summon turned to face Brakka again—but Brakka was already behind it.
His hand, crackling with red energy, clamped around the summon's skull.
BOOM!
The head exploded in a burst of dark mist.
From across the battlefield, Sylen narrowed his eyes.
He realized Brakka was a beast that thrived in chaos.
The more he bled... the more dangerous he became.
So what could he do?
He could summon more knights—but he didn't want to reveal too much of his hand. So, he stuck with the four and re-summoned the ones that had fallen.
The boar-shadow knight charged, greatsword cleaving toward Brakka's ribs—
But the Kruckle caught the blade mid-swing. freewēbnoveℓ.com
There was a collective gasp.
Earlier, the summon had clearly displayed strength surpassing Brakka's, having caught the Kruckle's spiked mace.
So what was this now?
Brakka had gotten stronger—in that short span.
He caught the boar's arm and flipped the massive knight with a roar.
BOOM!
The creature slammed into the ground, its armor denting under the blow.
Brakka didn't stop.
He swung his fist down like a hammer, slamming it into the knight's skull.
Again.
And again.
And again.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Black ooze spurted from the cracks in the faceplate.
Then it dissolved into nothing.
Brakka stood, panting.
Blood leaked from his temple, but his grin only widened.
"Send more shadows?" he bellowed at Sylen. "I'll rip them all to dust!"
"All right."
Sylen obliged, re-summoning the shadow Brakka had just destroyed—and then, he too moved.
He gripped his bow and drew the string. An arrow—black, serrated, unstable—formed in his hand.
He let it fly.
THOOM!
The dark projectile split the air like a banshee's scream, spiraling toward Brakka at blistering speed.
The Kruckle, distracted by the summons, punched one aside, then snarled and planted his feet—
He punched the arrow mid-air.
But the moment it touched his skin—
It exploded.
A vortex of deathly wind and void energy engulfed him.
Brakka stumbled out, coughing, half-blinded.
That's when the second arrow struck.
From above.
KRACK!
It buried itself deep in Brakka's shoulder before detonating again, knocking the giant backward.
