Dark Warlock in the Apocalypse

"Hey! Get a grip, you idiots! Do you want to die that badly!?"

The sharp voice cut through the hesitation of the migrants, stopping them in their tracks. The one shouting was none other than Travis, who had served as Calvin's second-in-command for so long.

"Don't you know the easiest target is someone running away with their back turned? And even if you run, where would you go?"

"…!"

"If you don't want to die to monsters, then stop running and fight! If we kill them, the city will be ours! There's only half as many of them as us!"

Travis's rallying cry seemed to snap the migrants out of their panic. Their retreating steps halted, and the look in their eyes changed. Determination replaced fear.

Calvin, who had been spitting blood while lying on the ground, glared furiously, but Travis didn't even glance in his direction. Travis felt exhilarated, as if he were reclaiming the position of leader he had lost.

"Let's go! Kill them all!" Travis shouted.

"Wooahhh!"

"Unbelievable." Derek snorted as the bloodthirsty cheers rang out.

The other pioneers wore similar expressions. The approaching migrants didn't scare them—in fact, they found it laughable.

"Go for the chest and limbs if you can! Avoid the face! We don't want to accidentally kill them!" Derek shouted.

"Got it!" the pioneers responded as they advanced.

The migrants and pioneers clashed, and it was over in an instant.

Thud, thud, thud!

"Ugh…!"

"Guh!"

The migrants were knocked back all at once, as if they had charged into a solid wall. Those trailing behind stopped in their tracks, shocked by how their comrades had been thrown aside.

"What the… why did you stop?"

"Come on, keep going!"

Despite the pioneers' taunts, the migrants stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Travis, who had been at the forefront, was equally baffled.

'It hurts…!'

His left cheek throbbed, swelling from an impact he hadn't even seen coming. Despite the pain and the fear that began to creep in, his lust for power overpowered his terror. If he fell now, he'd never become the leader again!

"Ahhh!" Travis roared, grabbing a nearby wooden plank and swinging it.

The pioneer in front of him looked momentarily surprised, probably not expecting him to stand up and attack.

Travis thought he had the upper hand—until he didn't.

Wham!

"Guhh!"

The sound of his teeth shattering was followed by Travis's body spinning through the air. It felt like he had been hit in the temple, even though he had only been struck on the cheek. After two full rotations in the air, Travis crashed to the ground.

"Kuh! Guhhh!"

"Seriously, what are you doing, flailing around like that? You should have just stayed down," the pioneer said, looking down at Travis as he dusted his hands off.

The migrants finally understood why the ones at the front had been sent flying. They hadn't even seen the pioneers' punches.

The difference in physical strength was overwhelming. The pioneers had effortlessly countered their sudden assault, and the power gap wasn't limited to the leaders. Every single pioneer was this strong.

Realizing the situation, what little courage the migrants had left quickly vanished. Twice as many in number? That meant nothing when facing a group of 20 physically superior opponents. It was like comparing 50 crawling babies to a team of professional fighters.

"Screw this!"

One of the migrants cursed and turned to run. His actions set off a chain reaction, and soon the rest of the migrants were fleeing in panic. But no matter how hard they ran, their escape was laughably slow to the pioneers.

As he watched the retreat, Derek gave a simple order. "Round them all up."

And so, the hunt began.

The migrants' attempt to flee was short-lived and pitiful. The pioneers didn't even have to attack them—just catching up was enough to end it. The difference in physical ability between the two groups was overwhelming.

"Hah… haah! I can't… breathe!"n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Peek-a-boo! Where are you running?"

"Ahhh!"

No matter how hard the migrants ran, the pioneers easily caught up without even breaking a sweat. Each attempt to resist was quickly subdued, and the migrants were dragged back. Despite being outnumbered, the pioneers took down every last one of them.

Even those who managed to escape the first two rounds of capture were eventually caught. No one could escape the pioneers' pursuit.

"Let go of me! Let go, you bastards!"

"Shut up and follow us if you don't want to get hit."

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"

"Haah… you're making me hit you."

Smack, smack, smack!

"Guhhh!"

Some of the migrants resisted more than others, but those who did were swiftly silenced by three quick punches. The force of the blows was so brutal it felt like being hit by a club rather than a fist, and the migrants quickly realized they might actually die if they kept resisting.

"Are they all subdued? Let's bring them inside," Derek ordered.

"We don't have enough hands to carry them all, even if we drag them," a pioneer noted.

"Then call a few of the guards. They've got the same physical capabilities as these migrants, right?"

"Oh, yeah. I didn't think of that."

With the help of the guards, the pioneers dragged the captured migrants inside the gates. As the heavy gate slammed shut, the look of despair deepened on the migrants' faces. Their only chance of escape had been sealed off.

The pioneers gathered the migrants in a designated area, roughly shoving them to the ground.

"Ouch! Be gentle…!"

"Gentle? Shut up and kneel! The lord is coming."

"The lord?"

"I said kneel!"

Thud!

"Guh! Okay, okay! I'm kneeling! See?"

In pain, the migrants obeyed, kneeling as commanded. Though it had been a light kick, the impact reverberated through their bodies as if they had been hit with a metal rod. Only Calvin remained defiant, standing tall with a fierce look in his eyes.

Just as Derek was about to approach Calvin with a scowl, a voice interrupted. "Quick work, I see. Is it already over?"