Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 271: Grugrim Sword

There were no doubt less painful ways to end the fight—quick ones, clean ones—but the plant, for some reason, had chosen to cook her opponent alive.

Horrific... That was the only way to describe it.

No one seemed concerned, though.

Not the proctor, the crowd, the deity, or the three in the room with him.

The how didn't matter—only the win.

Alex stared at the Tranagrian still in the arena.

His jaw clenched.

If the two ever met, he'd make sure her death was just as horrific as Kira's.

But looking at the next opponent Vess was likely to face, he knew it was unlikely they'd ever meet in the arena.

Tap... tap...

The sound of footsteps broke his focus, and he frowned.

"Seriously? Another one looking for trouble," Alex muttered.

The footsteps were measured and light compared to Brakka's, but still carried weight.

Alex didn't need to look back to see who it was—Godeyes had already shown him.

It wasn't Brakka, or the demon Malik.

Nor the elf.

It was the broad-shouldered, short figure with a massive beard:

Grugrim the dwarf.

Alex wondered what the little man wanted.

But one thing was certain:

Whatever the dwarf wanted, it wasn't a fight. That much was clear. The aura rolling off him held no hostility. No killing intent. Just presence—solid and grounded.

So he kept his gaze on the arena, not reacting until the dwarf approached and revealed his intention.

The footsteps stopped beside him.

Then turned to face the screen as well.

Now, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, was the dwarf—the scent of forge smoke and iron clinging to him like a second skin.

Alex didn't turn.

He just let the noise from the crowd below wash over him.

He found himself surprised that he wasn't anxious or tense in any way.

He usually was around new presences—especially potential threats.

But from this one, he sensed no danger. No bloodlust. No animosity.

Just… stillness.

The kind that made him relax.

Alex was almost convinced the dwarf was using a skill. But he wasn't.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

They simply stood there in the fading noise of a battlefield—two strangers with nothing in common except the promise of future violence.

Then, without shifting his stance, Alex broke the silence.

"You're up against Malik, right?"

The words just came out. He didn't plan them.

Didn't even know why he said them.

It just… felt natural.

Grugrim responded with a low hmm—a sound somewhere between a grunt and a breath.

Alex waited a second, then followed up.

"Are you nervous?"

He wasn't trying to dig or mock.

He was just curious.

There was a brief pause before the answer came in a short grunt.

"Yes."

Alex glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"How do you feel about facing Malik?"

Why was he asking these things?

He wasn't sure.

Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to.

Maybe the silence was too heavy.

Grugrim's expression was unreadable beneath the thick braids of his beard.

Then he replied plainly.

"Scared."

Alex raised a brow.

That was honest.

Then Grugrim added, still staring at the arena floor like it was calling his name:

"But I'm going to fight anyway. And I'm going to win."

There was no arrogance in his tone. No ego.

Just conviction. Simple. Pure.

"You're confident," Alex said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Grugrim shook his head.

"Confidence is thinking you'll win," he said quietly. "I just decided I would. That's different."

Alex gave a light scoff of amusement.

"How so?"

Grugrim responded in a low voice, like he was stating a universal law.

"The moment I let myself believe I've already lost, then I have."

Alex nodded, impressed by the dwarf's resolve.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't flashy.

But it was real.

For reasons Alex couldn't quite explain, he found himself liking Grugrim.

They didn't share blood. They didn't share an origin.

Hell, they barely shared a height category.

But something about Grugrim's steadiness anchored something in Alex.

He didn't have to talk to him.

Didn't even want to at first.

But doing it felt oddly easy.

Still... he didn't drop his guard.

Not fully.

He'd been fooled once before—lulled into ease by a mask of kindness.

Nancy had taught him that mistake, and he would never repeat it.

So he activated Godeyes—the active effect of the skill taking hold.

Now he could see the dwarf's action before it happened.

Grugrim then broke the silence.

"I have a proposition for you."

Alex turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing with interest.

"Oh?"

Grugrim didn't speak immediately.

Instead, he lifted one arm and opened his inventory with a quiet flick of his fingers.

There was a brief flash of light.

A long, rectangular shape formed in the air before dropping into his waiting hand—a sword, still sheathed in dark leather.

Without a word, Grugrim gripped the hilt with his gloved hand and drew the blade.

Shhhk.

The sound of steel sliding free echoed faintly between them.

Alex didn't flinch at Grugrim drawing out a weapon.

He sensed no ill intent in the action. Instead, the moment the weapon cleared its scabbard, Alex's eyes widened a fraction.

It glowed.

Not with fire, not with lightning—but with power.

Pure, refined, ancient power.

The metal shimmered with veins of light—the kind that ran through the earth's crust and only revealed themselves under moonlight and magic. The edge looked sharp enough to cut through thought. Symbols lined the fuller of the blade—runes that pulsed softly, like a heartbeat in the steel.

Grugrim turned the hilt toward him, offering it with two hands.

"I want you to check the quality."

Alex blinked.

"...What?"

"Take it and see," the dwarf said simply.

Alex hesitated.

But then his hand reached forward, fingers brushing against the hilt.

The moment his skin made contact with the grip, a translucent interface popped into view—his system reacting instantly.

DING!

Lines of glowing text scrolled rapidly.

Then the sword's name appeared.

And beneath it… a series of attributes and words.

Alex's eyes darted across the info.

Then stopped.

He blinked hard, processing the first few lines.

And then, without even thinking, the words slipped out:

"Holy shit."