Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 49: Confrontation

Alex’s gaze sharpened as he noticed Thompson heading straight toward him, his face set in a mix of anger and suspicion. His footsteps were heavy, his posture tense, and it didn’t take a genius to tell that confrontation was inevitable.

"You! What did you do?" Thompson barked, loud enough to draw everyone’s attention.

Alex’s frown deepened. Here we go. He vaguely remembered threatening to beat the man up if he interfered, and shortly after, the system had descended.

Before Alex could say anything, Jonah stepped in, his tone equal parts curious and defensive. "Whoa, what are you talking about? What did he do?"

Thompson’s accusing glare didn’t waver as he pointed a shaking finger at Alex. "He assaulted Mr. Ethan! And then—then all of a sudden this happened!"

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the group. Jonah’s expression twisted in disbelief as he turned to Alex. "You assaulted Ethan? Like... the head of the company?"

Alex hesitated. He didn’t want to explain himself to these people—not here, not now—but the weight of their stares pressed on him. He muttered under his breath, just loud enough to be heard, "You seriously think that matters now?"

"What?!" Thompson roared, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. "You don’t think it matters? You assaulted the head of the company!"

Alex met Thompson’s gaze, his expression unyielding. A flicker of annoyance crossed his features.

Nancy chimed in, her tone firm yet calm.

"He’s right. It doesn’t matter."

Thompson spun toward her, his expression twisted in frustration.

He raised a dismissive hand.

"Huh... you butt out of it! This doesn’t concern you!"

Jonah stepped in next, his voice steady but tinged with disbelief.

"Mr. Thompson, you’re getting your priorities all wrong here. Think about it for a second—what’s the connection between Alex supposedly doing that and us all ending up here?"

Thompson turned to Jonah, his face flushed. "You… you don’t know! What he did probably caused all of this!"

Jonah raised an eyebrow, folding his arms as he replied with slow, deliberate sarcasm. "So, let me get this straight. You’re saying that Alex punching Ethan was so catastrophic, it broke the laws of reality, shattered the matrix, and somehow triggered a rabbit in a suit to drag us into this bizarre place to ’train’ us as citizens of a new world? Is that what you’re saying, Mr. Thompson?"

The group around them went quiet. All eyes were on Thompson as Jonah’s words hung in the air.

Thompson froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. The logic—or lack of it—began to dawn on him. He stammered, trying to find a response, but he couldn’t.

"…I…" he muttered, clearly flustered.

Alex watched the scene unfold, his sharp gaze noting the flicker of realization in Thompson’s eyes. The man had blurted out his accusation out of panic, scrambling for someone to blame, and Alex had just been his convenient scapegoat.

Because that’s what Thompson always did—shove responsibility onto someone else the moment things got tough.

Thompson clicked his tongue in frustration, the sharp sound cutting through the tense silence.

He turned toward Alex, his expression twisting into one of disdain.

Alex was an easy target, after all.

"You’re such a piece of shit," Thompson spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Acting all arrogant earlier, like you’re above everyone else. But let’s face it—you’re still the same wimp, hiding behind other people. Letting them speak for you. Just wait… when we get back, you’ll pay for what you did to Ethan."

Alex stood still, his face betraying no emotion as he watched Thompson rant. He didn’t flinch, didn’t respond, didn’t even blink.

But inside? Inside, Alex was boiling.

Should I just blow him up? The thought came unbidden, simmering in the back of his mind. It would be so easy—he could do it in an instant. Heck, if he wanted to, he could wipe out everyone here in seconds.

But Alex clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms to ground himself. He wasn’t a psychopath. Killing Thompson—or anyone else here—wouldn’t do him any good. It wouldn’t solve anything. And deep down, he knew Thompson’s words had struck a nerve.

Because Thompson wasn’t entirely wrong.

Alex had let others fight his battles for far too long. He’d stayed quiet, kept his head down, hoping to avoid conflict. It was pathetic, and he hated himself for it.

As the anger churned inside him, Alex felt a sharp tug of awareness—Nancy’s gaze was on him again.

He turned his head, meeting her eyes.

Her expression wasn’t harsh like Thompson’s or worried like Jonah’s had been. It was… curious. Searching. She was studying him, almost like she was trying to figure him out.

Alex furrowed his brow, confused.

Nancy’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before she looked away, as if pretending she hadn’t been staring.

Alex’s mind raced. What the hell was that look about? he wondered.

It felt like her gaze was saying, I’m watching you.

But why?

Alex shifted uncomfortably. The attention was unsettling, something he actively avoided. He didn’t want eyes on him, especially now.

Should I just disappear? he thought, imagining himself slipping away from the group to figure things out on his own. It wasn’t like he needed anyone here—they’d probably be better off without him anyway.

But deep down, Alex knew there was a reason they’d all been brought here together. The system had gathered them for something bigger than personal grudges. For now, he’d stay. He wanted to see how things unfolded before making any rash decisions.

Meanwhile, Nancy found her eyes drawn to Alex again, her thoughts lingering on him.

He seemed… different.

Not just because of his rough appearance, but the way he carried himself. There was a weight to him, like someone who had been through more than anyone else here could imagine.

Nancy had overheard whispers in the office about how Alex was treated, but she’d never known the details. Watching him now, it became painfully clear that those rumors hadn’t been exaggerated.

The way Thompson had spoken to him, the judgmental glances from their co-workers, and the oppressive silence surrounding him all pointed to someone who had been ostracized for far too long.

Nancy frowned. How had he put up with all of this?

Before she could dwell on it further, a man stepped forward, breaking the tension.

He was tall and athletic, dressed in a sleek archer’s outfit, a bow slung over his back. His expression was one of frustration, his voice carrying a mix of desperation and confusion.

"Can someone please explain what’s going on here?" he asked, his tone edged with impatience. "I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this, but no matter how much I think about it, nothing makes sense!"

The atmosphere was tense, filled with restless murmurs and shifting eyes. Suddenly, a soft sob broke the silence, a haunting, emotional sound that filled the air.

Alex’s eyes flickered toward the source of the noise. It was Evelyn, a girl he barely knew, dressed in flowing robes, holding a wand that trembled in her grasp.

"Sob, sob… I don’t want to be here. I want to go back," Evelyn whimpered, her voice quivering as tears streamed down her face.

"Stop crying, dammit. It wouldn’t solve anything." A harsh voice cut through the air.

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It woman, dressed in dark, form-fitting clothes looking like an assassin.

"Everyone, calm down," a towering figure, clad in heavy armor said, his voice still steady. "This is probably some illusion or prank… a dream?"

But Evelyn’s sobs only grew louder, and her despair seemed contagious.

Alex watched the crowd panicking.

He couldn’t give more or less of a shit about any worries but as he glanced around at the others, he noticed something that he hadn’t paid more attention to due to his nervousness.

Unlike him, who had been thrust into the thick of it, everyone else was prepared, somewhat.

They weren’t thrown into the chaos with just a suit and empty hands.

No—most were armored, weapons slung across their backs or at their sides.

Swords, axes, wands—every one of them had some kind of tool for survival.

Even Evelyn, who was sobbing uncontrollably, had a wand clutched tightly.

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Meanwhile, Alex had landed here his business suit.

He had fought tooth and nail for everything he had—no fancy gear, no convenient weapons—but here, they were fully equipped from the start.

’Seriously, why didn’t I get this when I first appeared here?’

Alex thought, his frustration bubbling just below the surface.

The question bounced around his mind, both confusing and infuriating.

Jonah’s voice then cut through the rising tension and then began to speak:

"I don’t think this is a dream or an illusion or anything like that. It’s real—real as it gets. But I believe this is survivable— if we stick together. Let’s focus on what we know and start from there."

The group hesitated, but Jonah’s confidence seemed to anchor them. Slowly, the chaos subsided as people began speaking up, each sharing the knowledge they had.

"We get a skill every ten levels."

"Ranking up gives you +5 to all attributes."

"Defeating boss monsters drops skills or weapons."

"There’s a shop—apparently, you can trade items and buy items there."

As more people talked, the panic drained from the room.

These weren’t ordinary people—they were professionals, and they were starting to act like it.

Calm logic replaced fear, and the group began piecing together how this world worked.

But Alex wasn’t calming down. If anything, with every new detail revealed, his anger burned hotter. His mind raced as he listened.

’All of this... the damned Overseer didn’t tell me any of it!"’