Apocalypse Gachapon

The creature with no nose—just a patch of circular pores where one should be—grabbed a handful of soil, sniffed it, then ate it. Sitting cross-legged, its sparse hair fluttered in the breeze as it closed its eyes in concentration.

Dressed in tattered rags that barely covered its slime-coated greenish skin, this being radiated pure revulsion.

Around it, eight figures watched intently, the air thick with silence.

Soon, a blurry image materialized above its head: two figures battling a trio of parasites—one large, two small. The vision lasted mere seconds before dissipating.

The creature opened its eyes and stood, its voice like grinding metal. “This happened hours ago. They’ve moved on.”

The implication was clear: while traces had been found, tracking the targets wouldn’t be easy.

“Kuma, don’t worry. Ten points the moment we locate him. My word.”

A man clad head-to-toe in golden armor spoke coolly, though hatred dripped from every syllable.

The repulsive Kuma nodded. “And if I help kill him? What then?”

The question drew sharp attention from the others. Ten points just for tracking—what’s the price for murder?

The golden-armored man hesitated before answering, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“No. I will.”

A woman in sleek purple armor—design mirroring the man’s—cut in. Unexpectedly, the man fell silent, his gaze drifting to the bundle clutched tightly in her arms.

………………………………………………

Once recovered enough to move, Ye Zhongming and Jie Kui began looting the battlefield.

Potions? Neither dared use them.

With twenty-one days ahead and this being merely the first, every drop counted. Today’s intensity suggested they’d be spending hard-earned points on supplies soon.

“You skin them. I’ll handle the rest.”

Ye Zhongming took charge of the Spirit Fire Rhino horns—their most valuable material—requiring precision and time.

Jie Kui didn’t mind. Back on his homeworld, menial tasks like this were beneath him. But now, surveying the carnage—especially the four level-nine corpses—pride swelled in his chest.

When had he ever taken down four level nines in one fight? Never.

What truly delighted him, though, was his point tally.

Previously: 3. Now: 35.

Thirty-five points might seem modest, but Jie Kui knew their worth—enough to buy decent gear in the shops—or trade for far better deals privately.

With that in mind, the earlier near-death struggle felt justified.

Fortune favors the bold—universal truth.

“Ye, what’s your count?”

Ye Zhongming pried out an alpha’s horn and magic crystal. “Fifty-two.”

Jie Kui did the math: +48 for Ye Zhongming versus his own +32. A 16-point gap, yet he felt no envy.

The battle’s MVP was undeniable.

The ingenious traps. The phantom-like short-range teleportation. The fists that hit like meteors. The ability to animate plants. That mountainous spectral strike…

Jie Kui was certain now—he stood no chance against this man.

Oh, and that mysterious beam attack, plus the radiant aura during combat…

“Hey, Ye—what was that final…?” Jie Kui mimed an explosion with a “boom”.

While Ye Zhongming’s tactics had been pivotal, the detonations that crippled the rhinos sealed their victory.

“Life-Ignition.”

Jie Kui froze mid-motion, then gave a bloody-handed thumbs-up.

“Life-Ignition, huh…” He resumed skinning, muttering in awe.

He’d never known which Star-Eye ability Ye Zhongming had learned beyond Twin Poison Shadows. Now he did.

If his own Light-Stealing Heartstab was a killing move, then Life-Ignition was a trump card—one of the clan’s ultimate techniques.

Few in the Star-Eye Clan mastered it. Not because it was complex, but due to its brutal requirements.

Unlike direct-damage skills, Life-Ignition was a two-phase ability:

Energy Infusion: Imbue carriers (objects, traps, even living tissue) with stored power.

Detonation: Expend energy to trigger explosions.

The kicker? Power scaled with input. More energy in both phases meant bigger booms.

But here’s the catch: a minimum threshold existed. For a level nine, meeting it usually meant total energy depletion—leaving the user helpless post-blast.

Jie Kui grimaced. That Earth saying Ye mentioned—”Indulge now, die later”—fits this skill perfectly.

How much energy was needed to be able to blow up the skin of a defensive-type level nine lifeform? Yet Ye Zhongming had shattered level-nine defenses and was now casually harvesting crystals without even using potions.

Monstrous.

Jie Kui felt that he had made the right choice following Ye Zhongming.

Checking their rankings, Jie Kui couldn’t see Ye Zhongming and himself at the front. Even if he patiently searched, he would take a minute to find it.

Now, he found himself at 2,102nd, while Ye Zhongming sat at 1,950th.

Of the original 30,098 novices, 29914 remained.

184 deaths in half a day.

“Ye, about this meat—”

“Shh!”

Ye Zhongming’s sudden silence froze Jie Kui mid-sentence.

Someone’s coming.