Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 301: This Ends Now
Sylen didn't hesitate any longer.
His hand snapped up, fingers tightening into a rigid sigil—and power surged in response. Black energy flared along his forearm, searing ancient glyphs into the air like a brand carved by flame. The glyphs shimmered, spiraled, and burned, dancing in a pattern that called not just across space—but through the veil of spiritual restraint he had long sworn never to pierce.
And then—
He spoke.
A word. A name. A command.
"Boar Knight," Sylen snarled. "To me."
Across the smoking field, the summoned warrior—eight feet of tusked wrath locked in brutal combat—jerked violently mid-swing. Its opponent, one of Alex's clones, blinked in surprise as its blade scraped through empty air. But the knight was already gone.
A flash of crimson consumed its form.
And in the next heartbeat—
The Boar Knight landed beside Sylen like a meteor of steel and fury.
Stone exploded beneath its hooves. Dust and ash burst outward, swallowing them both in a swirling haze of shadowed mist. Cracked slabs of the arena rippled from the impact, and nearby flames snuffed out under the sheer pressure of its arrival.
The knight straightened slowly, smoke peeling from its joints.
Its plated chest expanded with every breath—each inhale guttural, each exhale a furnace's growl. Its boar skull helm twisted toward Sylen, glowing eye-slits flaring with restrained ferocity.
Sylen took a single step back.
His palm still blazed with dark energy, shadows coiling around his wrist like hungry serpents. Without blinking, he reached toward his waist and drew out a medallion—an obsidian relic engraved with the carving of a boar.
The seal etched into the medallion pulsed—then shattered.
**CRACK!**
A burst of red light erupted from the talisman like a blood-soaked scream. Chains—spectral, jagged, and etched with ancient runes—raced from Sylen's back like unleashed specters.
But they didn't wrap around the Boar Knight.
They fed it.
The chains struck the knight's limbs, coiling like manacles, and began to glow—pulsing with a rhythm older than time. Magic—dark, volatile, forbidden—poured into the summon, cracking through its armor like lightning through mountains.
The Boar Knight convulsed.
Once.
Twice.
And then—
It ignited.
A crimson aura exploded from its core, wild and alive, engulfing its massive form in a halo of cursed power. Its tusks glowed like molten iron. Muscles bulged, armor cracked, and glowing veins of blood-red mana crawled beneath its skin like a web of fury barely contained.
Its snarl deepened.
Now, each breath it took came out like a war engine roaring to life.
It grew.
Not drastically—but undeniably.
Larger. Heavier. More… feral.
And Sylen felt it—the cost etched in the air around him like a toll demanded by the gods.
Once this state ended, the Boar Knight's soul would burn out.
Its core would shatter.
It would never return.
No resurrection.
No recall.
Only loss.
The Boar Knight turned toward him, the infernos in its helm flickering like dying stars made of rage. The two locked eyes—man and summon, master and beast—and Sylen gave a single nod. That was enough.
The knight slammed its fists together.
**BOOM!**
Behind them, a second figure dropped from the sky.
Dreadlord.
His massive form, weathered and fractured, fell like a broken star. Smoke rose from his armor—scars from a dozen clashes. His greatsword was chipped along the edges, but his grip remained firm. He stood tall, unmoved—the walking embodiment of death's will.
Now they stood together:
Sylen.
Dreadlord.
Boar Knight.
And across from them—
Varkos.
The Archfiend loomed like an elemental storm, barely contained in the shape of a warrior. Lightning surged in coils around him. Void light shimmered along his blade.
His body was wounded—but not slowed. Blood leaked from dozens of gashes, but his eyes held clarity.
No fear.
No confusion.
Only focus.
He had seen their trick.
He wasn't impressed.
Sylen's voice sliced through the tension like a guillotine.
"Use everything," he said. "Hold him down. I'll finish this."
The words struck like a signal.
Dreadlord moved first—stepping forward with thunderous force. His greatsword glowed with renewed death energy, tendrils of shadow curling around the blade like reapers preparing for war.
The Boar Knight roared, a primal sound that made the ground quiver, and then launched beside him. Stone split under his charge. A trail of red-hot energy spiraled in his wake.
And Varkos—
Didn't back down.
He stepped forward.
**CLAAAAANG!!!**
The first clash erupted as Dreadlord's sword slammed into Varkos' weapon in a burst of sparks and force. A shockwave rippled out from the point of impact, hurling dust and debris into the air.
Varkos snarled, pivoted, and threw the knight's blade wide with a twist of his wrists, then surged forward—ramming a knee into Dreadlord's chestplate with brutal precision.
The knight stumbled back, armor dented.
Varkos turned—his blade arcing toward the Boar Knight.
**WHHHHKRAAANG!!!**
Steel met flesh.
The blade carved into the Boar Knight's shoulder—deep. Violent.
But the knight didn't block.
Didn't flinch.
The blow landed—
And the beast stepped through it.
A crimson rune flared along his gauntlet.
And then—
**CRACK!**
A thick, rune-etched chain fired from the Boar Knight's hand and *slammed* into Varkos' chest.
It didn't pierce.
It didn't tear.
It bound.
The Archfiend jolted—not from pain, but from the arcane surge coursing through the chain.
The sigils flared—lighting up the arena in a burst of cursed script. Energy funneled into Varkos' core—not to destroy, but to corrupt. This wasn't just damage—it was sabotage. Designed to overload systems meant to evolve.
And it worked.
Varkos faltered.
His stance wavered.
Void lightning flickered wildly.
His regeneration stuttered.
His breath—stopped for half a beat.
The Boar Knight slammed into him with a charge like a mountain breaking loose.
**CRAAASH!!!**
Varkos reeled—feet tearing trenches in the floor. His claws scraped stone in a desperate attempt to stay upright.
He didn't get the chance.
Dreadlord was already behind him.
**SLAAAM!!!**
The death knight's blade came down like divine judgment, slamming Varkos to one knee. His shoulders curled from the blow. His power lashed out—wild, untamed.
But it wasn't enough.
The Boar Knight lunged, locking both arms around Varkos' torso in a crushing bear hug.
Chains—those same cursed ones—snapped into place, anchoring them both to the earth like twin titans nailed to reality itself.
Varkos roared, his body convulsing, limbs flailing, power flaring—
The very air distorted.
Waves of force bent the battlefield like heat warping glass.
But the grip didn't break.
Dreadlord's blade pinned from above.
The Boar Knight crushed from below.
And Sylen—
Sylen stood behind them, calm amidst the chaos.
His fingers moved slowly, with purpose.
A death-forged bow materialized from shadow—its limbs sleek and cold like bone, wrapped in writhing whispers. No string. Just a thread of cursed light, humming with the weight of a thousand deaths.
Sylen drew.
An arrow formed—not of wood or steel, but raw hatred made matter. The shaft pulsed with deep violet energy. Runes danced along its length. The tip gleamed with judgment.
The arena fell silent.
Even the crowd—watching beyond the barrier through glass and spellwork—fell still.
No cheers.
No screams.
Just breathless silence.
The arrow glowed like the eye of the abyss.
Sylen didn't blink.
Didn't tremble.
He breathed in once.
Held it.
Then, cold as death, he spoke.
"This ends now."
