Apocalypse Baby
Chapter 317 - 317: Alex vs Malik [4]

The blazing crescent of [Cinder Divide] screamed across the battlefield, tearing a molten trench into the arena as it hurtled toward Alex. Heat shimmered like glass, and the edges of the blast melted stone in its wake, turning solid rock into rivers of glowing slag.

Spectators leaned forward, breath caught in their throats.

Was this a repeat of Vess?

Another combatant swallowed whole by fire?

Like hell it was.

Just before the attack hit, Alex vanished.

FWOOSH!

With a pulse of brown light and a flicker of runes beneath his boots, Alex activated [Terra Phase] and melted into the earth like a ghost.

The fiery guillotine of Malik's attack surged overhead, grazing the stone with apocalyptic fury but striking nothing.

The audience gasped in shock.

The molten crescent screamed forward, its heat warping the very air, its core a blinding mass of white-orange light that melted everything in its path. The arena floor split, stone boiling into slag as the wave surged toward the edge.

And then—

BOOOOOM!

It slammed into the base of the audience stands.

The protective barrier—ancient, reinforced, powered by layers of enchantment—flared instantly, a dome of translucent blue energy bursting into view.

The impact rocked it.

The entire stadium shuddered, a low, bone-deep rumble echoing across every seat.

Audience members screamed—some staggered back from the front row, clutching their arms against the sudden heat.

Others gritted their teeth as mana shields flickered in defense, robes and hair whipping back from the shockwave.

But the barrier held.

It groaned. Hissed. Cracked with light along its hexagonal veins.

But it held.

And when the smoke cleared, the front of the audience zone was scorched black, but the ground beneath the stands remained intact.

A blink later, Alex emerged from underground.

Not even the fringe of his coat was touched.

Malik's eyes narrowed in confusion, but he didn't get the chance to process it—Alex was already on to the next move.

He flicked his hand subtly and whispered one word beneath his breath.

"[Doppelking]."

With a flash of light, five versions of Alex burst into existence around him, exploding from thin air as though they'd always been waiting—held in stasis until called.

Each clone landed in sync, and without a flicker of delay, they moved instantly.

Like predators.

Each charged with lethal purpose, blades drawn, aura humming with faint golden light.

While the original Alex stood behind, watching.

Malik snarled, fire bubbling under his boots as the temperature surged around him.

"Hiding behind numbers?" he barked. "You're just like the rest. Coward!"

One of Alex's clones answered without breaking stride.

"You're wrong. Those people weren't cowards. They fought despite knowing they were outmatched. That is bravery."

"Shut up! I'm not getting lectured by a clone!"

The speaking clone lashed forward, blade carving a precise arc toward Malik's ribs.

The second spun in from the left, low and fast, aiming for his ankles.

The third leapt high, sword raised, targeting his blind spot.

The remaining two circled wide, flanking him like wolves.

Their movements were seamless.

Malik spun, reacting fast.

He ducked under the high swing, swept his foot into the low attacker, and fired a burst of flame that detonated midair—erasing one of the clones in a burst of golden particles.

BOOM!

"ENOUGH!"

He slammed his palms together, then whirled.

Fire burst from his limbs in a spiraling vortex.

"[Inferno Spiral]!"

A blast wave of heat erupted from his core in a perfect circle. The floor cracked and cratered beneath him. Stone shattered.

One more clone, caught mid-dash, disintegrated into arcs of fading gold—burned out of existence before it could scream.

The arena trembled.

Flames roared high into the dome.

The audience screamed in delight.

The air tasted of smoke and ozone.

But not all the clones were gone.

One of them ducked under the spiral, rolled across molten stone, and emerged behind Malik in a blur of motion—fast, razor-precise, raising his blade as he aimed for Malik's side.

But Malik pivoted.

His eyes flared.

He caught the blade barehanded.

The steel hissed against his molten grip, glowing red from contact.

But he didn't flinch.

He twisted, ripped the blade from the clone's hand, and unleashed a net of flame that engulfed the attacker in a whirling inferno—bursting him apart in a scream of light.

Just two clones remained.

Plus the original, who Malik still had his eye on.

Why the real Alex wasn't attacking, Malik didn't know.

But he decided to ignore the fact that Alex could jump in at any time.

Malik slammed his palm against the arena floor.

The earth responded.

Veins of red lightning crawled outward—ancient runes glowing beneath the cracked ground like a heart about to rupture.

"You want a real summon?" he snarled.

"Let's see you dodge this."

And the arena erupted.

A massive, serpentine column of fire exploded from the earth, twisting into a living beast—a dragon forged of flame and molten stone. Its jaws split wide, teeth glowing like magma, and it roared.

A soundless, searing cry that sent ripples across the dome.

The clone tried to run.

But it didn't matter.

The dragon surged forward, jaws snapping like the collapse of a volcano, and swallowed the clone whole.

The crowd gasped.

The fire serpent twisted higher, fangs carving a glowing arc across the sky before circling back toward the last clone in the distance.

But Malik wasn't depending on the dragon to finish the job.

He was already on the move.

He charged toward where he expected the clone to retreat.

He darted across floating platforms of stone, boots glowing red as they skidded across broken terrain like a comet—pure fire and rage.

But halfway through the sprint—

Something in his gut twisted.

A flicker of instinct.

The kind forged from real combat—the kind that whispers just before the blade reaches your throat.

He froze mid-dash, then turned his head.

Toward where the original Alex had stood during the battle.

But it was empty.

"No," Malik muttered, eyes scanning wildly.

There was no sign of him.

He hadn't used [Terra Phase] again.

Malik's chest rose and fell, the rush of fire still pulsing in his limbs, but the anger in his eyes was giving way to something else.

Uncertainty.

He had kept his eyes trained on the real Alex for most of the battle—he'd learned from what happened to the elf, Sylen, in the previous round.

He'd watched as Alex used misdirection to bait Sylen, only to nuke him when the opening came.

Now the same thing was happening.

But he was no elf.

Malik spun in a slow circle, fire coiling around his limbs again, aura flaring to maximum.

He scanned the smoke. The rubble. The shifting heatwave—ready to burn the entire arena down just to flush Alex out.

But while all this happened—

The final clone took advantage of Malik's distraction…

And drew close.

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