Entering Apocalypse in Easy-Mode-Chapter 582: A Kid

Clyde staggered forward as the path solidified beneath his feet. His jaw clenched hard.

"Shit," he thought while grimacing. "If I hadn’t underestimated her, I wouldn’t be this torn up."

The burns and cuts throbbed in unison, each step pulling a sharp reminder from his body. He had expected resistance. He had not expected skills and strength like that. He had held back. Actually worse, he had hesitated.

"I didn’t use the Demonic sword’s real power from the start," he admitted to himself. "Part of me didn’t believe I could."

Demonic power was volatile and unstable by nature. It twisted its wielder as often as it empowered them. And more than that, Clyde had avoided drawing too much attention by using a Demonic power. Power like that never went unnoticed.

But now it was too late.

"I’ve already shown my hand," he thought bitterly. "All I can do now is accept it."

The stairway ended.

Clyde stepped onto the tenth floor.

He stopped in his step.

At the center of the floor stood a child.

A boy, maybe ten years old, was there. He was small and round-faced. His cheeks still carried traces of baby fat.

He wore armor made of layered and pulsing fleshy material. Greenish smoke seeped from the seams, curling lazily around his feet.

The boy looked up. Then he smiled.

It was a natural and human-like smile. Warm enough to twist something deep in Clyde’s chest.

Clyde’s brows knitted together.

This was wrong. Worse than wrong.

"He’s not human," Clyde thought. "He can’t be."

Killing monsters was one thing. Killing something that looked like a child was another entirely. His grip tightened around the Demonic sword, knuckles whitening.

His arms refused to move.

"Is this really what I’m supposed to do?" he thought. "Is this what clearing the tower means?"

Anger surged, hot and suffocating inside his heart. He didn’t know that his anger toward that World Master could get any higher.

"That bastard," he thought. "That World Master... I swear, if I ever find you..."

"You came to save me?" the boy asked.

His voice was bright. Hopeful.

Clyde didn’t answer.

He stared at the child, eyes flat, taking in the green smoke, the faint Demonic pressure beneath the innocent exterior.

He could see it now. The truth beneath the shape. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

This was a monster. Not pretending to be a child.

A child turned into a monster or the other way around.

His jaw tightened.

"You have the mind of a kid," Clyde thought. "But you’ll still kill me if I hesitate."

—

Far away, inside the white room, laughter rang out.

"Hahahaha!"

The World Master leaned back, kicking his legs lightly, eyes gleaming as he watched the scene unfold on the floating monitor.

Of course he had designed this floor. Of course he had chosen a child.

Or rather, a human child remade into something else.

Hesitation made people commit mistakes. Mistakes meant death in this situation.

Many had died there before Clyde. The weak. The strong. Or anyone who still clung to hesitation.

"Now then," he muttered with a grin. "Let’s see what you’ll do."

—

The boy tilted his head, still smiling like a child.

Clyde didn’t answer because any words felt useless here.

He raised the Demonic sword instead.

Demonic aura poured from his body, no longer restrained.

Magic power surged through his veins and into the blade. The black veins along the bone sword lit up, crimson color also spreading fast, and then the fire ignited.

Dense coiling flames wrapped around the edge, heat pressing outward and warping the air.

The boy’s smile vanished.

His expression crumpled, eyes trembling as his lips parted. He became sad.

"So you don’t want to save me either," he said quietly.

There was no accusation in his voice. Just sadness.

Then he disappeared.

Clyde’s eyes widened a fraction.

"He is as fast as that woman," he thought.

The child reappeared directly in front of him. His movement was identical to the woman before but sharper and cleaner. Acid-coated claws slammed into the Demonic blade.

The impact detonated outward, fire and green smoke exploding together.

The wall behind Clyde cracked. The stone screamed.

Clyde slid back several meters, boots carving trenches into the floor.

He barely stabilized before the boy was on him again.

Greenish smoke burst from the child’s armor, thicker and darker than before. It burned on contact, eating into Clyde’s skin even through his resistance skill.

"This poison is stronger. More refined," Clyde realized.

He swung. Fire met acid. The collision shook the floor.

Stone shattered and chunks of the tower wall blew outward, dissolving into dust and corrupted mist.

The boy darted through the chaos. His small body weaving with terrifying precision.

Claws tore across Clyde’s shoulder.

Clyde grunted and countered, blade carving a burning arc through the air.

The child twisted away, flames grazing his armor and igniting it.

Instead of screaming, the boy’s face tightened in pain, teeth clenched as he endured it.

He attacked again.

Acid surged, no longer coating a weapon but erupting directly from his body.

The smoke thickened, corrosive and choking.

Clyde’s lungs burned as he forced himself forward.

"He’s not holding back," Clyde thought. "Neither can I."

He slammed the Demonic power deeper into the sword.

The fire intensified, turning darker and heavier. Each step Clyde took cracked the floor beneath him.

He met the child, sword and claws colliding again and again, each clash sending shockwaves through the tower.

The walls couldn’t withstand it so the stone collapsed. Entire sections of the tower burst apart, revealing writhing flesh beneath before being burned away by Demonic fire. The battlefield widened into ruin.

The child leapt high, green smoke trailing like a comet, then descended with claws aimed straight for Clyde’s head.

Clyde gritted his teeth and swung upward. Fire swallowed the impact.

BOOM!

The explosion ripped through the floor, tearing a massive crater beneath them.

The boy was thrown back, slamming into a broken wall. His armor cracked, acid hissing as it leaked out.

He looked up at Clyde, eyes wet, breathing uneven.

"Does it hurt?" the boy asked softly.

Clyde stepped forward, flames raging along his blade, eyes cold and unwavering.

"Yes," he replied. "But not as much as letting you live like this."

The tower groaned around them. The tenth floor was breaking. Before long, they would fall down.

—