Law of the Apocalypse

The Blood Leech lay coiled, its grotesque, bloated body slick with slimy plasma, exuding a suffocating aura of decay and menace. Its unnaturally long limbs twitched in erratic spasms, asserting its dominance over this forsaken territory. But it was no longer the undisputed predator here. Another terror stalked these halls: the Thunder Scorpion.

"Kill it."

Chen Feng's voice was cold, devoid of emotion, the command falling like a death sentence.

The Harbinger leaned forward, its monstrous frame radiating a chilling intent. Its hulking body, scarred and disfigured, loomed over the Blood Leech like an executioner preparing to strike. As it inched closer, the air around them seemed to tighten. At seven meters, the Harbinger kicked off the ground with terrifying force, muscles bulging grotesquely as it lunged toward its prey, a force of unrelenting brutality.

The sound of the Harbinger's charge tore through the silence, but the Blood Leech had no time to react. Even as it flinched, the strike was already upon it.

Thud!

The air was filled with the wet, visceral sound of tearing flesh. The Harbinger's blow had cleaved through the Blood Leech's grotesque tail, severing it cleanly. A torrent of thick, rotting plasma sprayed from the wound, pooling on the floor in a sickening flood. The acidic liquid splattered onto the Harbinger's body.

Ssszzz...

The Harbinger's skin began to sizzle and smoke, the blue-gray flesh turning black as the leech's corrosive blood ate into it like acid. The toxic plasma had been festering within the leech for who knew how long, turning into something far more lethal than mere venom—an acidic fluid strong enough to melt through flesh, capable of reducing bone to ash.

In this world, once mundane insects had transformed into something far more terrifying. Evolution had twisted them into monstrous predators, their genes altered, their bodies mutated beyond recognition. And the Blood Leech was no exception, its grotesque form embodying the brutal efficiency of the apocalypse.

The leech let out a hissing screech, a sound filled with terror. For the first time, it sensed its doom. Its bulbous body quivered in a grotesque parody of fear, its legs scrambling frantically, the once-mighty predator now reduced to a panicked, fleeing wretch.

The Harbinger's presence had shattered the Blood Leech's confidence.

Overcome with fear, the leech turned to flee, desperate to escape the monstrous force bearing down on it. But it was too late.

The Harbinger, its skin still smoking from the acid, snarled through clenched teeth, dark blood oozing from its twisted, scarred lips. With a guttural growl, it launched itself into the air, casting a massive shadow over the fleeing leech.

Thud!

The Epic Fang in the Harbinger's hands came crashing down, cleaving through the Blood Leech's spine with a sickening crunch. The room was sprayed with dark, foul-smelling blood as the creature's back was torn open, its body convulsing in agony.

Once a powerful predator in its own right, the Blood Leech had been utterly overwhelmed. Its strength, its poison, its grotesque resilience—all meant nothing in the face of the Harbinger's brutal assault.

Now, it lay broken on the ground, twitching feebly in its final moments of life.

Crunch!

The Harbinger brought its foot down with terrifying force, crushing the leech's head beneath its boot. A wet splatter echoed through the hall, the once-feared creature reduced to nothing more than a mutilated corpse.

Chen Feng barely spared the crumpled body a glance, shaking his head. The Blood Leech's remains held no value. It was nothing more than an obstacle on his path.

---

The 17th floor.

As Chen Feng ascended, the oppressive weight in the air grew stronger, wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud. Each step felt heavier, the atmosphere thick with malice.

At last, he stood before a large set of double doors, the only thing separating him from the creature that had claimed this floor. The ominous energy emanating from within made the air itself feel heavy, like a dark presence pressing down on his chest.

No other insects dared to venture onto this floor.

Chen Feng's eyes narrowed, his breath slowing as his senses sharpened. He knew this was no ordinary enemy. A single misstep here would mean death, and Chen Feng had no intention of falling prey to carelessness.

Slowly, cautiously, he pushed the door open.

Creeeeak...

The door groaned as it swung ajar, revealing the room within.

A vast conference room stretched before him, silent and foreboding. But it was what lay at the center that froze the blood in his veins—a massive scorpion, its monstrous form dominating the space.

The creature was a thing of nightmares. Its two enormous pincers gleamed with the cold, sharp precision of a predator. Its carapace was dark and jagged, and its massive body seemed to pulse with barely contained energy. Arcs of electricity flickered around it, casting the room in a dazzling, terrifying glow.

Thunder Scorpion.

There it was, the fearsome creature Chen Feng had been expecting.

But something was wrong.

The Thunder Scorpion was in distress, its massive body trembling, panting heavily as though enduring unbearable pain. Its usual aura of control and dominance had fractured.

"What's happening?"

Chen Feng's eyes narrowed. The Thunder Scorpion was typically a solitary predator, favoring darkness and silence after a hunt. It would feed, then retreat to some hidden place to rest in peace. As the apex predator of this domain, it had no lack of food, yet now it seemed restless—agitated and on edge.

Chen Feng didn't act. Instead, he lingered at the threshold, quietly observing the creature's unusual behavior.

Then, a sickening tearing sound echoed through the room.

Chen Feng froze, his gaze locked onto the scorpion's back. Slowly, the armored exoskeleton began to split, the jagged edges cracking open like a grotesque wound. From within the ruptured flesh, pale white creatures crawled forth.

Larvae.

The Thunder Scorpion was female—and it was in the throes of reproduction.

The unsettling truth fell into place in Chen Feng's mind. That explained the scorpion's erratic behavior—it wasn't just in pain; it was undergoing the brutal agony of giving birth.

Images flickered in Chen Feng's memory, recalling the grim details of the Thunder Scorpion's reproductive cycle.

A monstrous process.

After mating, the male Thunder Scorpion becomes a lifeless offering, paralyzed and helpless as the female consumes his body. Only after devouring him does she fully mature, her own body splitting open as her brood begins to tear their way out.

But there was no mercy in this birth.

The larvae, each about the size of a fist, latched onto their mother's flesh, their tiny mandibles ripping into her hide, feeding hungrily on her life force.

A cannibalistic inheritance.

Under normal circumstances, the female would be dead within a day, devoured by her own offspring—her body reduced to a hollow shell.

But nature was never predictable.

Suddenly, a sharp crack of lightning surged across the Thunder Scorpion's body. The larvae, though somewhat resistant to electricity, were still vulnerable. Their small bodies twitched in paralysis, momentarily stunned by the shock.

It was all the opening the mother needed.

With a violent shake, the Thunder Scorpion dislodged her brood, the larvae falling to the ground in a writhing heap.

Crunch.

The mother's eyes gleamed with malice as her pincers snapped around one of the helpless larvae. She crushed it between her jaws, blood spilling in thick, dark rivulets from her mandibles.

The remaining larvae tried to flee, but their bodies were still rigid from the lightning's aftershock. One by one, the mother seized them, consuming them in a grotesque reversal of fate. Within moments, every last one was gone, their small, twitching forms devoured by the very creature that had birthed them.

Nature's rules had twisted once again.

Instead of allowing her young to consume her, the Thunder Scorpion had devoured her offspring, reclaiming the very life essence they had tried to take. Scholars had once speculated that some female scorpions intentionally conceived, knowing that their larvae held potent life energy, imbued with the affinity for lightning that could restore their strength. In the wasteland, these children were more than a curse—they were sustenance.

This land was full of horrors that defied reason.

Children born to consume their mother's flesh.

Mothers who turned on their offspring to survive.

Survival of the fittest—in its most nightmarish form.

This was the law of the Apocalypse.