Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode-Chapter 504: Real Threat

Graemory stiffened when she heard Bael’s words. Her wine glass trembled faintly in her grip. The blood-red liquid rippling near the edge.

Her eyes widened for a split second, but she reined it in fast and become steady again.

She forced herself to breathe slowly and stay composed. "Maybe it’s just a test," she told herself. "Maybe he’s just bluffing."

"What do you mean, my lord?" she asked smoothly, her tone measured and calm. She took another sip of her wine to hide the dryness in her throat.

Bael chuckled with eyes gleaming. "I’m always impressed by how sly you are, Graemory. If I didn’t already know anything I would’ve been fooled again."

Graemory’s stomach clenched. Her heart pounded loud and fast in her chest.

"He knows... he knows something. If not everything!" Her thoughts raced but she couldn’t think of any safe way out of this.

Bael leaned back on the couch and studied her with that predatory amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"Look at you. That expression... you’re trying so hard not to crack. But I can see it. Your mask is slipping."

Cold sweat slid down her back. Her hands tightened into fists in her lap. She could barely keep her breathing steady.

"I like that look on you," Bael went on. "Like you’re about to explode. That little bit of fear... it’s delicious." He leaned forward, voice lower now. "So, let’s get to it. Since when did you start working with those anomalies?"

Graemory’s lips parted but no sound came out. Her thoughts churned searching for a lie or path as an escape. But there was none she can find right now.

She was caught. And she knew Bael wasn’t the type to offer mercy.

Bael waited, still smiling, but his tone grew darker. "The longer you stay silent, the longer your pain will last later when the torture begin."

The threat settled like a dagger at her throat.

Finally, Graemory let out a slow breath. Her shoulders sagged just slightly.

"I’ll talk," she whispered.

"I know," Bael said, grinning wider. "So, since when?"

"...Since the Selection Stage," she admitted.

Bael nodded slowly, satisfied but not surprised. That was what he had suspected.

The Selection Stage was chaotic, full of unseen alliances and maneuverings, all under the noses of Celestials, Angels, and Demons alike. It made sense.

"And what did you want from them? Why betray your own kind?"

Graemory’s gaze hardened. "You already know... I wanted more power."

Bael’s grin faded into a colder expression. "And you thought they’d give it to you?"

She said nothing, only stared into her glass.

Bael leaned back again, swirling his own wine lazily.

"Well," he said, "you’ve just made things much more interesting. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. Not yet."

Graemory’s heart sank.

"I’m going to let you march with us," Bael continued. "And fight alongside the very army that’s going to crush your little pets. You’ll be useful in the frontlines."

She blinked in disbelief. "You’re... sparing me?"

Bael laughed. "No. I’m sentencing you."

He stood and set his wine glass down.

"See you on the battlefield, Graemory. Do not try to do anything because it all will be futile."

And with that, Bael stand up, turned and walked out, the echo of his boots feels like war drums across the floor.

When the door closed, Graemory finally allowed herself to collapse into the chair. Her hands trembling as she pressed it to her face.

---

"AAARGH!"

Clyde’s scream tore through the mansion like a blade of raw energy. It wasn’t just sound but also shockwave of energy. The walls shook. The windows trembled in their frames. Even the floor beneath his bed pulsed with the vibration of his agony.

The sound came from two sources at once, his soul within the ash realm... and his physical body that lay within the sealed chamber beyond the door.

But Clyde didn’t know that. He wasn’t aware of anything beyond the pain. His mind was drowning in it.

This wasn’t like the first phase. This was worse. A deeper transformation was happening. A violent reshaping of his soul and body at once, like every nerve had been torn apart and stitched back together with thread of fire.

The magic in the air turned volatile. They swirled in wild spirals around the upper walls of the chamber.

The entire mansion began to groan as if it was being forced to endure the pain with him as well.

Outside, the Demon soldiers immediately stopped what they were doing. The scream reached even the farthest courtyard. A few of them flinched, others turned toward the mansion with alarm.

Within seconds, a squad of elite warriors rushed toward the source of the scream with weapons half-drawn.

But before they could reach the door to the inner chamber, they stopped. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

Asqa was already standing there in front of Clyde’s chamber. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t say anything at first and just looked at them.

Then, in a firm voice that allowed no argument, she said, "He’s fine."

The soldiers froze, exchanging glances. The vibration of power from beyond the door was still very present. For them it felt chaotic, alive, and dangerous.

"But, Lady Asqa..." one of them dared to say.

"I said he’s fine," she repeated, louder this time. "Do not interrupt him."

The lead warrior swallowed hard, then gave a stiff nod. "Yes, my lady."

The rest followed and slowly backing away. Their expressions were filled with confusion, fear, and awe. Whatever was happening inside that room they didn’t want to be anywhere near it without orders.

They turned and left in silence, returning to their posts, though none of them could shake the feeling of dread crawling up their spines.

Asqa remained standing at the door. But her heart wasn’t calm.

Her fingers clenched slightly, her jaw tight as another wave of Clyde’s screams echoed from within.

"He’s never screamed like this before," she thought, biting her lip. "Not even during the worst battles."

She could feel it.

The pain he was enduring wasn’t just physical. It was tearing through every layer of him like his will, his memories, and his soul. Like he was being unraveled and forged anew in a crucible no mortal should survive.

Asqa placed her hand gently on the door. She closed her eyes and whispered, "Please, Clyde... hold on."

---

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