Lord of the Apocalypse Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1: The Day Everything Ended

  Chapter 2: Man Versus Minotaur

  Chapter 3: The Martyr

  Chapter 4: Life as a Goblin

  Chapter 5: Hierarchy of Monsters

  Chapter 6: First Evolution

  Chapter 7: Back in the Human Realm

  Chapter 8: The Other Humans

  Chapter 9: The First Meeting

  Chapter 10: The Deviant Goblin

  Chapter 11: Small but Terrible

  Chapter 12: Like a Blown Candle

  Chapter 13: Climbing the Ranks

  Chapter 14: Plight of a Magician

  Chapter 15: A Declaration of War

  Chapter 16: Stepping Stones Part I

  Chapter 17: Stepping Stones Part II

  Chapter 18: Stepping Stones Part III

  Chapter 19: Goblin Leader

  Author’s notes:

  Lord of the Apocalypse

  By Michael Sisa

  Chapter 1: The Day Everything Ended

  I rubbed my crooked nose as I blinked back the tears that started to form at the corner of my eyes. How long had it been since we last met each other? The days I spent within the iron cell were the most horrible days of my life. Not because of the lack of proper meals, the rock-hard bed and smelly inmates, the nauseating smell of iron, or even the constant beatings from the smug-faced guards that would bet on which of us prisoners would last the longest, but because of the longing for the both of them. There was not a single moment when I did not long to be with them.

  “Mommy! Look!” an angelic voice said as he tugged the dress of the blonde woman beside him. His brown eyes were like saucers, pure and untainted. His neatly trimmed red hair flowed nicely towards the back. “The new game is out! It’s out!”

  “We’ve already brought you one last week, right?” the woman said with a smile, revealing the dimple in her left cheeks. She placed her frail arms onto the child’s head, ruffling it in mischievous strokes.

  A satisfied smile formed onto my sunken face as I watched the two from a distance. My red hair was covered by the hood of my overcoat, eyes staring longingly at the two figures. I kept resisting the urge to approach them, to talk to them, to embrace them, to kiss them, but my willpower emerged victorious as I stood there like a statue.

  “Did you wait long?” said the man that came out of the bakeshop right across the street. The mother of my son immediately turned his way then smiled. Her smile was dazzling, almost stunning, but the fact that it was meant for another gripped my heart, crushing it, tearing it. I bitterly smiled as I watched the three enter inside the mall. Like a stalker in the middle of the night, I quickly followed.

  The three certainly looked like a family from a bystander’s point of view, and they actually were. Except that the man was not the biological father of my son. He was someone my wife met after I was convicted of murder and was imprisoned for seven years. Luckily, the false charge was lifted and I was granted freedom. Seven years – that was the amount of time they took from me and from my family. Moreover, those years had cost me my wife – something I could not blame her for. Every woman needed a man to lean on, to love, and to cherish. It was something I understood deep within my heart, and I did not have the slightest intention of blaming her.

  “Bro, that man is crying,” I heard a whisper from my left. Upon looking, I saw the cursory glances of two teenagers. Their faces were filled with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. The older of the two gave the other one a nudge before they eventually walked forward and vanished from my sight.

  I wiped the tears that had come out unnoticed. To my surprise, a familiar mellifluous voice rang out from my rear. It was followed by a tap on my thin, almost skeletal shoulders.

  “Nicholas?” the voice was skeptical. Upon turning around, I was stunned when I met the gaze of the woman that I had loved the most in my life. Her features remained the same as when we first met years ago, so mesmerizing that you could not help but stare at her. No, she was more beautiful right now. My heart literally jumped a beat the moment our eyes met. I guess the fact that she had married a millionaire was something that made her bloom like flower in the middle of the spring. Not worrying about money—that was one less thing.

  “Nicholas!” Her voice was now filled with certainty. To my surprise, she leapt and hugged me tight. I almost cried and wailed when my body felt her warmth. It was nostalgic, and I would exchange anything just for time to stop right now, for the fleeting seconds to last forever.

  I firmed my cheeks as I willed back the tears from forming. I smiled gently as my hands wrapped around her, hugging her back.

  “Hey—how are you?” I tried to say as nonchalantly as possible.

  I wanted to tell her how much I missed her, how much I longed to be with her, and how there was not a single day when I did not think of her, but I knew that doing so would break the bond that we have right now: the bond of friendship.

  “I thought… I thought… I thought that it’ll be ten more days till…,” she said in almost a whisper. At her back, I could see her new husband, Richard, smugly glaring at my direction. The way his lips wordlessly moved and cursed remained unnoticed by the woman I currently held in my hands.

  “That’s the plan, but I got released earlier. It’s the decision of the higher ups.” I slightly moved back, initiating our break of body contact. She had a new husband now, and I was sure that she would have a better future ahead of her with him. I would rather bleed alone than break their family.

  “Francesca—I’m really glad to see you… that you are doing fine,” I breathed. I probably looked like a madman with my sunken appearance and creepy, crooked smile, but I did not mind. All that mattered was now. All that mattered was that I was able to see her, able to talk to her.

  Tears started forming at the corner of her eyes, and I saw her firm and resolute expression as she tried to will it back. Our son was watching, and she would rather not cry in front of him, to appear strong and reliable. She turned around then gently grabbed our eight-year-old son’s hand.

  Unsure of what to say, her eyes swiveled from me then to our son, then back. She almost stuttered when she introduced the child. “T-This is Marco.” I smiled for I already knew. She turned to our son then added, “That man is Nicholas—your….,”

  Your father, was what she wanted to say, but was something she could not convey. When she remarried, it was written in the contract that I would no longer be connected with the both of them. It was the condition given by the millionaire bastard before the wedding ceremony.

  “Who is he, Mommy?” our son, Marco, asked as he stared at me, filled with wonder, not at my sunken face’s strangeness, but probably at my inexplicable familiarity. He smiled, revealing a missing tooth. “He seems nice! Is he a friend?”

  My heart stopped for a moment when I heard the words that came out of my son’s mouth. He had never met me before, but the way he spoke such words made it seem like he was comfortable with my presence. I pulled the hood tightly over my head, shadowing the tears that had uncontrollably fallen down my cheeks.

  “Yes, a friend,” Richard said with emphasis on the last word. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were glaring. He grabbed my son towards him and added, “Just a friend. Now—there was this certain game you wanted to buy, right? Tell me. I’ll get it for you.”

  Immediately, my presence vanished like wisp and smoke as Marco’s eyes glittered with excitement from the mention of the game. My wife cast an apologetic glance as she slightly lowered her heard, unable to do anything.

  “I understand. Go,” I mumbled, just loud enough for the new husband to hear, grateful for the fact that the hood lightly shrouded my face. I repeatedly told m
yself that I should be grateful just for the fact that I was able to meet them, that I conversed with them. I should be content with just that much.

  After a smile that conveyed seven years’ worth of emotions, I turned around and vanished amidst the sea of people.

  ***

  Half an hour had passed since then, and I sat motionlessly inside a coffee shop inside the mall. I tugged out the hood and revealed my face, brooding and blatantly filled with nothingness. I had lost seven years of my life and along with it, my family. But I knew that I had lost more than just that. I had lost my reason for existence. I had lost my reason for living. I was drunk in grief as I gulped down the coffee before me in one go. At the corner of my eyes, I saw the surprised look of the waitress. It was the strongest black coffee in the house.

  “So… this is what it feels like to start over again,” I mumbled, lips smiling in inexplicable irony. I wiped my lips with the napkin and placed a few paper bills onto the table then left. Just right after I exited the shop, a surprising scenario unfolded before my very eyes. The ground shook and formed cracks, dusts and detritus falling down the ceiling. The lights vanished and turned day into night, then blinked back into life like broken bulb in its last flicker. I fell down butt-first onto the ground as my almost skeletal body lost its balance. Numerous shrieking sounds were heard as the unexpected quake suddenly hit us. The alarms went on and everyone crouched as they stabilized their footholds. Eventually, after a few more seconds, the quake stopped.

  I heard numerous sighs of relief as people got onto their feet one after another. A loud, almost mechanical voice echoed inside the mall, “To everyone—please proceed outside in an orderly manner. Please do not panic. Do not run. Do not use the elevators. Just follow the guidance of our staffs and seek a safe shelter outside the building.”

  Suddenly, to everyone’s surprise and horror, a blue window popped before our very eyes. The words written were incomprehensible but ominous, definitely diabolical.

  The East District has now become the territory of Lak ‘Amesh

  The message lingered there for a few more seconds before it eventually faded away and vanished, leaving nothing but the curious looks of those that witnessed it.

  The ground rumbled again, and to my absolute terror, numerous beasts that spanned around four meters in size came rampaging inside the mall. Glasses were shattered, and woods were splintered as their hairy bodies with limbs as thick as tree trunks ravaged everything the eyes could see. Blood splattered and painted the walls as the bodies of those inside the mall flew in all directions. Cries of despair, horror, and agony reverberated, with the tearing of flesh and breaking of bones as background.

  The monsters roared, signaling the event that would later on change my very life. Black circular horns, black furs, head of a cow, muscular body of a man: they were undoubtedly beasts called Minotaurs.

  Chapter 2: Man Versus Minotaur

  I stiffened. My eyes were glued to the massacre unfolding before my very eyes. The cries of anguish from the carnage further intensified, followed by frequent roars from the cow-like monsters. I heard gunshots from the outside for a few seconds, but it immediately died down and were followed by the sound of bodies crashing against concrete. It was only then that reality finally struck me.

  My son and my wife—they were also inside this mall-turned-hell-hole. I choked as the thought of them dying crossed my mind. I cannot let it happen. I cannot let it happen. I cannot let it happen!

  I bit my lips, sending a thin line of red down my chin, as I ran forward. My body whizzed by the pile of corpses that had been thrown by the abhorrent monsters. Shards of glass, broken tables, and disfigured corpses: I jumped over each and every one of them as my eyes frantically turned left and right as it scanned the surroundings for familiar figures.

  Odd sounds were heard from my left, and I deemed that it was the sound of walls cracking and breaking. A second after, a large shadow loomed over me as a hand flew towards my direction and crushed the man beside me, sending the insides of his head splattering in all directions.

  My sunken face turned even paler as a momentary sense of relief washed over me; I had brushed with death just a second ago. The stomping sounds from before got louder as I craned my neck to the rear, and to my horror, I saw the beast chasing after me, drools dripping down its mouth.

  A deafening roar that muffled every other sound made me cringe as I resisted the urge to cover my ears. My hands would definitely be more useful for other purposes. I ran. I ran. I ran. I ran through slabs of broken walls, pieces of furniture, and disfigured bodies. I ran until my lungs were exploding, crying and begging for me to stop and recuperate.

  I afforded a cursory glance at my rear and checked the status of the monster: still chasing. At the corner of my eyes, I saw the entrance towards the comfort room, thin and seemingly decrepit from the numerous cracks from the quake. A second of hesitation hit me before my body eventually leapt to the left, crashing into the entrance of the comfort room. It was wide enough for a person or two to pass through, but definitely small for a four-meter tall monster to traverse.

  The beast roared in frustration as it tried to squeeze its way inside, but to no avail. It kept reaching out its thick arms out towards me as I crawled my way backwards, eventually bumping onto the tiled walls.

  For a moment, I was worried that the entrance would break as I noticed cracks forming from each of the Minotaur’s futile struggles. After around five more minutes, something that seemed like eternity of roars and deathblows, the Minotaur stopped then snorted, creating a steam in its wake. It glared at me before it eventually turned around and squeezed its way out. I had never been so grateful for comfort rooms in my entire life.

  The roars and cries of anguish from the outside continued as I sat there, my head underneath the sink. The smelly, almost putrid room felt like home; pleasant, friendly, and welcoming. It had become my haven, a temporary haven.

  “Francesca… Marco,” I mumbled the two names repeatedly like mantra. They were my source of strength in this pandemonium, and I would do anything just to ensure their safety.

  I lingered inside for five more minutes, catching my breath, before I eventually craned my neck outside, checking for any pursuer. To my relief, the Minotaur had left entirely. I wasted no time as I immediately ran with my life on the line, eyes desperately again searching for the familiar figures.

  I skidded to a halt when a disfigured corpse caught my attention. I stared at it for a moment as I witnessed its last moments, dry tears evident on its cheeks. It was the waitress from the coffee shop before. Her arms were missing, probably ripped apart in a single stroke, and half her head was crushed like paste. Her corpse was disfigured, but I was sure that it was her. Her innards ornamented the cracked floor, painting it with red and green-yellow.

  My stomach churned and I puked on the ground. I turned around when I heard loud rumbling sounds coming towards my direction, and it was coming at a frightening speed. I almost lost my sanity when I saw three Minotaurs charging towards me, nostrils flaring up with occasional steams of rage.

  I ran. I ran. I ran.

  It was the only thing that I could do; the only thing that separated me from the soothing embrace called death. I have not valued life much before, but now that I was close to losing it, I realized how much I want to cling to dear life. I cannot die—at least not until I saved the both of them, until I had ensured their safety. Right now, they were my top priority. Everything else was secondary.

  Suddenly, series of gunshots echoed, and the three Minotaurs chasing after me stumbled backwards, only to again regain momentum as they continued with their chase. Their cowheads turned fiery and red, and roars erupted in a screeching pitch. My hairs stood on edge as I desperately gasped for air. At my left, I saw the man that shot the beasts: a policeman.

  “Keep running!” the policeman said in hysteria. He reloaded his gun then momentarily turned around as he again fired shots one after another.


  The shells from the pistol inflicted nothing but small cuts onto the bodies of the beasts, and it served as nothing but dried wood that fueled the burning rage of the monsters.

  Seconds ticked by, and the towering monsters eventually gained momentum, crashing corpses underneath their feet. A hand shot towards my left and I evaded by jumping to the side, making my body bump head-first onto the wall, my pallid face now blooming with a bruise on the forehead.

  “H-Help! Help!” The policeman from before was caught by the monsters, and he cast a pleading glance at my direction before his skull was eventually crushed by the gargantuan hands of the beasts.