Apocalypse with my SSS Harem Beauties

Red's anger surged violently and burned hotter than the pain that tore through his body. Humiliation pressed down on him with crushing weight.

He forced his arms to move. His muscles trembled as he tried to push himself up from the shattered ground. His grip tightening around his sword with desperate intent to fight back.

But that intent never fully turned into action. Before he could rise, Myles was already there again as a flash of black surged forward, followed by another slash that cut across his body to reopen wounds that had barely begun to close.

The moment Red tried to retaliate, Myles had already disappeared from that position, leaving nothing behind except the lingering distortion of his movement and the next attack arriving from another angle.

The pattern repeated without pause. His every attempt to stand ended in failure and his every effort to counter was cut apart before it could even begin.

Red's thoughts spiraled as frustration and fury fed into each other, growing more violent with every passing second as control slipped further away from him.

He no longer fought with clarity. He fought with instinct and rage alone pushing against someone he could not properly follow or predict now.

The gap between them became undeniable. That realization only drove his anger higher, boiling within him until it drowned out everything else.

The power inside him responded to that state.

The blood surrounding his body surged more violently as the heat intensified beyond what his flesh could withstand. The blisters that had covered his skin no longer remained as surface damage.

His flesh began to distort visibly as if something beneath it boiled and expanded, pushing out with unstable force.

The surface of his body warped slightly. His skin stretched and cracked in places as the heat continued to build from within. But Red did not notice that.

His focus remained locked entirely on Myles, blinded by the need to fight back, regain control, and crush the one who forced him into this state.

Then the force inside him pushed further.

A violent surge erupted from within his soul to drive power into his limbs with overwhelming intensity.

Red's body jerked as that strength forced its way through him, giving him the momentum he needed to finally push himself upward.

His form rose from the ground with a burst of power. The blood mist around him flaring like flame as if reacting to the sudden spike.

But the cost followed immediately.

As that power surged, his flesh broke further under the strain. Cracks spread along his skin as the unstable force inside him continued to expand, tearing through the limits of his body without restraint.

The strength lifted him, but it also pushed him closer to collapse.

His body was held together only by the same power that was now destroying him from within.

But again, Red didn't realize that.

Myles caught the change. His eyes narrowed slightly as his senses traced the violent surge within Red. It was not just the increase in raw strength but the way it moved in a reckless and consuming manner, as if the power no longer followed any concern for the body that contained it.

The presence beneath it pulsed more vast and distant, pressing forward with a will that did not belong to Red himself.

"That thing wants him to win. But it doesn't care if his body survives the process. It's just forcing everything out of him without restraint, using him until there's nothing left to break."

A faint cold resolve settled deeper within Myles as his grip tightened around his weapons.

"Heh… so be it."

He moved immediately.

The ground cracked beneath his step as he surged forward again. His body cuts through the space between them in a blur of black distortion.

This time, Red was able to meet his attack.

Their weapons collided the instant Myles reached him. Like before, the impact exploded as Red forced his body to hold. His serrated blade rose just in time to block the incoming strike. The force drove him back half a step, but he did not fall again.

Myles saw him clearly at that distance.

Red's face had changed. His skin no longer held its original shape as cracks spread across it in uneven lines while glowing faintly from the heat beneath it.

The flesh looked swollen in places and sunken in others, as if something inside continued to push and tear against it.

His expression twisted into a snarl that no longer resembled anything human. It stretched too far and too uneven, turning his face into a far more grotesque sight than before.

There was nothing human left in that expression.

Myles did not hesitate.

Fangblade moved first. The short sword shot forward in a sharp arc, the black mist trailing behind it as it aimed directly across Red's torso.

At the same time, Noctyrix followed from the opposite angle, the dagger flashing in a tight and precise motion meant to cut through any opening left behind.

Red reacted.

His blade moved again and again, faster than before, fueled by the violent surge inside him.

He caught the first strike, then twisted his body to intercept the second, forcing his weapon into position to block both attacks in rapid succession.

The clash rang out repeatedly as blade met blade.

But something else followed each impact.

Every time Red blocked, a faint crack spread across his skin. Small fragments broke away from the surface of his flesh, flaking off like brittle material that could no longer hold together.

Those fragments did not fall as normal pieces of flesh. They darkened the moment they separated and turned into ash before they even reached the ground.

The more he resisted, the more his body began to fall apart.

—

Not far from the center of the battlefield, Peter and the remaining eight elites stood at a distance. Their formation was no longer composed or steady as it had been before.

Their attention remained locked entirely on the clash ahead but now something else settled across their expressions. They have tightened jaws and furrowed brows. A growing tension that none of them could ignore anymore.

They saw it clearly that Red was losing.

The realization did not come all at once, but it built with every exchange they witnessed. Every block that tore more of his flesh away. Every movement that grew more unstable. Every moment where he failed to push Myles back.

That was not something they had ever prepared for.

Peter's teeth clenched hard enough to grind as his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.

His eyes burned with intensity as he tracked every motion in the distance, refusing to look away even as the truth became undeniable.

"We're not standing here and watching this," Peter said, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the tense silence around them. "We will move soon and help him."

The words barely settled before another voice pushed back.

"You're being stupid."

Varyn stepped forward slightly. His body still carried the marks of previous wounds that had not fully healed. His breathing remained uneven because of the pain, but his gaze stayed firm as he met Peter's eyes without hesitation.

"That fight will kill us before we even get close," Varyn continued. "You've seen it. That pressure alone is enough to crush us. That's not a battlefield we can enter anymore."

The air shifted instantly.

Peter moved without warning. His hand shot out and grabbed Varyn by the collar, yanking him forward with force.

Their faces came close as Peter's expression hardened further, something fierce and unyielding burning behind his eyes.

"I don't care," Peter said, his voice dropping and becoming colder. "We won't stand here while he fights like that!"

His grip tightened as he stared directly into Varyn's eyes, the intensity in his gaze refusing any argument.

"I won't let Red die here like this."

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Varyn held his stare, his jaw tightening as he said nothing in return.

The tension between them stretched, heavy and unresolved, before Peter finally released him with a sharp motion.

Varyn stepped back, steadying himself as his hand rose briefly to his collar. He didn't speak again. He only clenched his teeth and looked back toward the battle.

Peter turned away without another word. He raised his sword slightly, his focus locking once more onto the distant clash as his posture shifted into readiness.

"Get ready," he said, his voice firm, carrying clear authority. "We move on my command."

Around him, the others did not argue even when they were clearly doubtful about this plan.

"Move," he said, his voice cutting through the tension without hesitation. Peter's eyes hardened as he made his decision.

He stepped forward first and pushed into motion despite the danger ahead.

The others followed behind him but their movements slower and far less certain, but none of them chose to stay back.

Their formation tightened as they advanced. With every step closer, the pressure from the battlefield rose sharply and pressed against their bodies like an invisible force, tightening their muscles and weighing down their breaths.

—