Apocalypse: SSS-Rank Monster Breeder

The Central Fountain Confrontation

​CHAPTER 4:

​The Central Fountain Square—once the crown jewel of the Grand Plaza Mall with its towering glass skylight and palm trees—had become a slaughterhouse.

​Over fifty survivors were trapped inside a circular glass jewelry store at the center of the square. Outside the glass walls, a frenzied horde of thirty goblins and two massive, heavily muscled Level 5 Orc Warriors relentlessly hammered away at the security gates. The metal squealed under the impact, bending inward with every strike.

​Inside the shop, leading the crowd through pure intimidation, was Mr. Shola. His hands were wreathed in the sputtering orange flames of his B-Rank Blazing Blade talent. He clutched a bent metal pipe, his face pale and slick with sweat. At his feet sat the stolen purple System chest, pulsing with a rhythmic violet light.

​"Hold the line! Put your backs against the frame! Don't let them break the glass!" Mr. Shola screamed, shoving an unarmed male shopper toward a cracking window pane. "My fire talent will protect us, but I need time to unlock this chest! The System message says it takes ten minutes to bypass the lock!"

​"But Mr. Shola, the gate is collapsing right now!" a woman cried out from the floor, clutching her child. "Your fire isn't killing them! It’s only making them angrier!"

​CRACK.

​One of the Orcs smashed its rusted iron mace into the main glass door. Spiderweb cracks spread across the storefront. The survivors shrieked, backing away toward the heavy rear safes.

​"Someone go outside through the side door and distract them!" Mr. Shola yelled desperately, his eyes darting around like a trapped animal. "If someone volunteers to be bait, the rest of us can survive until this chest opens! It’s basic math!"

​Nobody moved. Everyone knew being "bait" meant a violent, agonizing death.

​Suddenly, a calm, chillingly clear voice cut through the roars of the monsters and the panic of the crowd.

​"If you wanted bait, Mr. Shola, you shouldn't have locked the door behind you. I make a terrible distraction."

​Mr. Shola’s head snapped up so fast his neck popped. Through the heavily cracked glass, his eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

​Walking casually out of the smoke-filled southern corridor was Mark. He wasn't panicked. He carried no weapon. His hands were casually tucked into his jeans pockets, his expression smooth and unreadable.

​"Mark?!" Mr. Shola gasped, his voice cracking. "How the hell are you alive? I saw that Orc corner you! You should be dead!"

​"I was supposed to be," Mark said, stopping twenty yards from the rear of the monster horde. He tilted his head slightly. "But it turns out monsters are far more reliable companions than human managers."

​The horde of goblins turned away from the jewelry store, yellow, bloodshot eyes locking onto the lone human. Hissing and baring rotten teeth, they brandished their rusted daggers and rushed toward Mark in a wave of green flesh.

​"Mark, you idiot, run!" a female shopper yelled through a gap in the glass.

​Mr. Shola, however, let out a trembling, sinister laugh as a cruel smile crept across his face. "Good! The arrogant brat came back just in time to be bait anyway! Let the monsters tear him to pieces—it buys us another two minutes!"

​Mark stood his ground as thirty goblins closed the distance with terrifying speed. Five yards. Three yards. He didn't flinch.

​"Shadow. Sly. Feed," Mark said softly.

​From the pitch-black darkness of the corridor behind Mark, a massive black shape blurred forward with the sound of tearing wind. Shadow intercepted the leading goblins, his crimson eyes flashing as [Shadow Step] melted him into the floor. He materialized directly in the thickest cluster of the horde. A tempest of freezing black fire and steel claws erupted among the goblins, sending green limbs flying through the air.

​At the exact same time, the acoustic ceiling tiles above the goblins exploded downward. Sly, the eighteen-foot iron-scaled Abyssal Viper, dropped like a fallen monolith into the center of the crowd. The sheer, crushing weight of the serpent flattened three goblins into wet paste instantly. Opening his massive crested jaws, Sly exhaled a thick, roiling green vapor—his active skill, [Toxic Cloud].

​The goblins caught inside the expanding cloud didn't even have time to scream. Their green skin blistered, their lungs dissolved, and they collapsed to the marble floor, dead before their bodies hit the tile.

​Within forty-five seconds, the entire pack of thirty goblins was eradicated. The Central Fountain Square fell dead silent, save for the wet sizzle of melting flesh. Only the two giant Level 5 Orc Warriors remained, backing away from the black wolf and the iron-plated snake in primordial terror.

​Inside the jewelry store, the silence was suffocating. Mr. Shola’s jaw hung open in shock. The orange flames on his hands sputtered, turned blue, and died out completely.