33: Apostle of Apocalypse—Death, That's It?

Amidst the ranks of skeletal soldiers, Death rode atop his gray steed, the skeletons parting before him.

"Is it a warrior's intuition?" He mused, a playful lift at the corners of his mouth visible beneath the hood shrouding his eyes.

"However, Lord Apocalypse has truly given me a trifling task—apprehending a character as insignificant as you."

His strong jaw received a contemplative touch, accompanied by a derisive snort.

"I don't even need to handle you myself. I have all these underlings to deal with you." With that, Death shook his head and reengaged with the skeletal army's encirclement.

The skeletal soldiers surrounding Rhodes pressed in, seeking to subdue him in their midst.

"Hmph!" Rhodes emitted a cold snort, sweeping his spear in front of him. He pivoted, creating a gust of wind that blew away the skeletal soldiers surrounding him.

Although these skeletal soldiers' bodies couldn't burn and their resilience against heat was substantial, under Rhodes' overwhelming power, their frail skeletal forms couldn't endure.

Death glanced over his shoulder, drawing his gray horse to a halt.

"These were all dolls I meticulously crafted in the past few days. You've ruined everything for me. It's such a pity." He plucked a skeletal soldier from the ground, his fingers brushing its cheekbones.

"Don't you see? They were once innocent and lovely young women in life."

Rhodes' eyes twitched. "Are you implying that these skeletons were acquired through the murder of innocent civilians?"

Death erupted in a shrill laugh, resembling the wails of a banshee—a sound that grated on the ears.

A series of diminutive skeletons emerged from behind him, exuding an appearance fair and youthful, akin to newborns.

These short skeletons brandished their daggers, forming a defensive line before Death.

"Could it be all of them!" Sig exclaimed, his gaze fixed on Death.

"Hahaha, indeed. Lord Apocalypse requires young blood, and the lives of individuals like them fit his requirements."

Sig's eyes burned with fury. "You fiend!"

With his spear held like a dragon, Sig advanced with agility, thrusting toward Death.

The diminutive skeletons lunged, their mouths agape, emitting cries that sounded like young girls. They seemed to cast Sig as their murderer.

Sig quickly retracted his spear as the skeletons mechanically snapped their jaws shut. The skeletal figures then lunged toward him, their trajectory bewildering.

These skeletons clung to Sig's form, and a vortex materialized within their hollow eye sockets, greedily absorbing a light green radiance from Sig's being.

Death transformed into a shadow, exploiting the cover provided by the skeletons obstructing his view. He stealthily closed in on Sig, his raised scythe poised to end Sig's life.

In that moment, Rhodes intervened—his fist deftly evading the strike, slamming into the side of Death's head, forcing him to the ground.

"It's all an illusion. Don't be ensnared," Rhodes advised as he peeled a skeleton from Sig and cast it aside.

Sig recovered from his daze, his chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Rod! Be cautious. This skeleton seems to possess the ability to drain life force." Sig remained on the ground, visibly drained.

Rhodes helped him up, shielding him from harm's way.

"If things get difficult, retreat. This is their domain, and we're at a disadvantage." Sig cautioned before exiting the scene.

"Hmph~ Eliminating you is as effortless as extinguishing a dog. Two Asgardian lackeys dispatched to pester the master! Perish!" Death lunged at Rhodes, wielding the black scythe.

Skeletons flanked him, converging on Rhodes like ravenous wolves, bodies poised to obstruct Rhodes.

Rhodes stood firm, clenching his fists, flames kindling on his knuckles.

"Child's play!" He unleashed a dual-fisted strike, propelling a spiraling vortex forward with a gust of wind.

The skeletons were sucked into the vortex, whirling amidst the gale, ultimately liquefying into bone marrow-like magma upon contact with the scorching tempest. White smoke hissed from the fallen bone remnants.

Scores of skeletons were reduced to ash in an instant.

"How can this be!" Death retreated a half-step, incredulous at the sight. Rhodes employed only his fist and the air, yet the resultant inferno rivaled the sun's heat.

And this fire's intensity matched that of the sun's. What sort of flame was this?

Obedient to Apocalypse's command, Death believed he'd witnessed every manner of superpower. However, facing Rhodes, he recognized the extent of his ignorance.

As the realization set in, Rhodes already stood before him, fist pressed against Death's jaw.

"Hmph!" A scornful smirk played on Death's lips. "Aren't you underestimating me at such close proximity!"

With a sweep of his black scythe, Death released a black shockwave that surged toward Rhodes' waist.

"Hmph! Mortal! Feel the power of Lord Apocalypse!"

Rhodes maintained an unwavering gaze, his head lifting high before descending with force—fragmenting the shockwave on impact.

He then met Death's eyes, arching an eyebrow that seemed to question, "Is that all?"

Death stood suspended, dumbfounded. The shockwave—contact with which was death itself—failed to harm Rhodes.

Could it be that within Rhodes resided something mightier than the abilities conferred by Lord Apocalypse, a force capable of resisting death's curse?