Dark Warlock in the Apocalypse

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"The more I look at you, the more I'm convinced you won't live long. You won't die from a monster; you're fated to have your head crushed by a weapon wielded by another human."

"S-shut up!" the tattooed man stammered, trying to hide his fear.

"By the way, don't forget that I'm still after you. If I see you leaving the safe zone, I'll follow you out and kill you. Keep that in mind," Justin warned.

The tattooed man's face turned pale, his fear evident as Justin turned away and re-entered his house. There was no quest for now, but who knew when another would come? It was better to rest while he could.

"Only ten more survivors?"

Justin woke up from a nap, surprised to see only fifteen survivors had arrived in total. In a neighborhood as big as this, only fifteen people had made it to the safe zone? Even considering the possibility of other safe zones being scattered around, the number was still too low.

There were so few survivors that every person could pick the best house, and two were still left vacant.

"I didn't think people would stay idle until evening," Justin muttered.

It was the height of summer, with unusually long days. There were still at least 10 hours before nightfall. Yet, by the time the sun was setting and darkness was just moments away, only fifteen people had arrived. Instead of moving, most had chosen to hide for over ten hours.

"As expected, but... is this really okay?"

The World Breaker game Justin knew was never lenient to those who remained idle. This was supposed to be "Apocalypse Day," as the system had warned. Could it really end with just a few goblins showing up? And why had the weakest monsters, goblins, been the ones to appear? That bothered him.

"Goblins are weak enough for normal people to defeat. If the system sent out such low-tier monsters on 'Apocalypse Day,' then the purpose is clear."

This wasn't the real start of the end, but a preliminary selection process. A small crisis to sift out those willing to act, to ensure that people with the determination to rise higher wouldn't die in vain. And now, those people were all inside the safe zone.

"The system's given up on the people who didn't act by now."

But regardless of expectations, human resources were crucial for rebuilding civilization. If people refused to move, the system would drag them out by force. Justin doubted the method would be gentle. The system had likely already finished selecting those it considered valuable.

As the red sunset faded and the sky turned a dark violet, the system's message appeared.

"Ding! A certain amount of time has passed since the beginning of Apocalypse Day."

"Ding! The main quest 'Find Shelter' has been removed due to exceeding the time limit."

"Ding! Those who failed the quest have been cursed with 'Sloth.'"

"Ding! From now on, a monster wave will occur at regular intervals."

"The cursed star has awakened the dead. The 'Undead Wave' begins."

"...!"

As Justin feared, his predictions had been spot-on. The rapid-fire system messages were followed by bones rising from the ground. The bones hovered in the air, assembling themselves into humanoid skeletons.

No flesh, no muscle, no organs—just animated human skeletons.

"S-skeletons!" one of the survivors gasped.

"Shit!" another cursed.

"What the hell is this!?" a third yelled, panic spreading among the survivors as they grabbed weapons from their inventories. The streets, which had been empty moments ago, were suddenly filled with skeleton warriors armed with swords.

For a moment, tension filled the air, but the skeletons didn't approach the village. In fact, whenever they got too close, they quickly retreated.

"What's going on? They're not attacking?"

"Oh, right, this is a safe zone, isn't it?"

"Phew, what a scare."

The survivors breathed a collective sigh of relief, sheathing their weapons. But the brief sense of security vanished in an instant.

"Aaah! Help! Somebody help me!""Run! Run through the door!""Don't come here! If you come here, you'll—" gurgle"Dad! You bastards!

Aaaah!"

Screams and cries for help echoed from all directions. It was similar to the chaos from when the goblins had appeared earlier, but this time the screams were different. These weren't just cries of fear—they were the dying screams of people being torn apart.

"Gasp! Help! Help me, please!"

Justin saw a man running toward the village from a distance. The man must have had good night vision because he spotted the village despite the fading light. It wasn't a bad decision to run this way, but it wasn't the right time.

Creak, clatter

As the man got closer, the red glow in the skeletons' eye sockets flared to life. The skeletons moved to surround him, cutting off his escape.

The man tried to dodge through the skeletons, but there were simply too many.

"Get away! Get away from me, you freaks!" the man screamed.

Slash

"....!"

With a sickening sound, the man's right hand was severed, flying through the air. One of the skeletons had swung its sword and cut clean through. The survivors within the village stared in horror at the scene.

Unlike the weak goblins, the skeletons were fast and powerful. Their sword strikes had the same force and speed as a healthy adult human.

"Help me! Please, help me! Aaaaaaah!"

Thwack, thwack, thwack

Despite the man's desperate screams, the skeletons continued slashing him with silent efficiency. After what felt like an eternity of chopping, the skeletons stopped as the man's cries faded. They stepped back, their work done.

"Oh my god..."

"W-who's got a strong stomach, because I don't!"

Some of the survivors gagged at the sight of the mangled corpse. A few collapsed to the ground, retching, while others actually vomited. Even those who had killed goblins to get this far found the human body far more difficult to stomach.

As someone who prided himself on having a strong stomach, even Justin was left momentarily speechless.

All around him, the air was filled with screams and death throes.

Apocalypse Day.

For the non-beta testers, this wasn't just the start of the end—it was the end itself.

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