Apocalypse Gachapon - Chapter 1806: First experience (2)

Ye Zhongming frowned as he stared at the bed before him, feeling thoroughly displeased.

In his past life, he’d slept in all sorts of places—once even spending two days and nights trapped in ruins filled with rotting flesh and excrement.

But that was his past life. In this life, he’d never suffered such indignities. While not exactly fastidious, his living conditions had never betrayed the apocalypse around him.

Now, not only was the bed filthy, but the bedding looked like it had been dredged from a swamp. Was this some perverse humor of the spacefaring races?

“I heard each novice planet rotates periodically, but the novice camp never replaces anything from start to finish. Except… the novices themselves.”

Shi Kangbo, slightly more tolerable than Bu Lanuo, shared this tidbit upon seeing Ye Zhongming’s hesitation. Though both harbored ulterior motives toward the Star-Eye Clan, at this moment, they shared a sense of solidarity.

Fetid air, grimy bedding, and predictably awful rations—this trifecta threatened to end their Novice Battlefield run before it began. How could anyone fight effectively under such conditions?

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A bell tolled outside the camp, followed by a voice projected through hollow metal poles stationed throughout the novice quarters—reminiscent of 1960s rural Earth, albeit with slightly more advanced acoustics.

“Don issued equipment and assemble at the central grounds within ten minutes. Latecomers will die.”

The authoritative voice sent a shiver through every novice—Ye Zhongming included. The speaker had infused the command with potent mental energy, strong enough to stagger even the Cloud Peak King before he recovered momentarily. His wariness spiked instantly.

However dilapidated the camp might appear, the reality was clear: the spacefaring races teemed with powerhouses, and his current strength placed him firmly among the lower ranks.

The group hastily donned their gear and bolted from the tent—not a second longer than necessary.

Though Ye Zhongming had expected hundreds of thousands given the myriad spacefaring races, only about thirty thousand beings congregated—far fewer than anticipated. Apparently, not every faction sent warriors.

Still, thirty thousand diverse lifeforms made for a staggering sight. Alongside humanoids, creatures of every imaginable configuration milled about—including a trio of dragon-like entities with massive wings, serpentine bodies, and dense scales that occupied a sizable area.

Could they be related to Yangos? Ye Zhongming mused, noting their identical morphology aside from missing magic crystals. The rest of the assembly resembled a cosmic menagerie—a zoo of nightmares.

Without military discipline, the gathering lacked order. Some stood quietly, others whispered, while many simply bellowed—until a single figure rose into the air and silenced them all.

As a level nine evolved, Ye Zhongming could briefly hover using techniques and equipment, but this being flew—effortlessly ascending a hundred meters to loom over the assembly.

“Welcome to the eve of death.”

His greeting plunged the atmosphere into icy dread.

“I am Zizikaba of the Kenrencuo Clan, overseer of this Novice Battlefield.”

He rotated slightly, revealing his grotesque physiology—three torsos branching from a single pair of legs (to Ye Zhongming, any non-humanoid qualified as a monster).

A different torso continued speaking:

“Your clans have explained the rules, so I’ll only emphasize key changes.”

“First: Private combat remains punishable by death. Second: No restrictions apply on the battlefield. Third: Daily rewards shift to tri-daily. Fourth: Bottom-tier elimination also occurs every three days. Fifth: Camp returns now happen tri-daily. Sixth: Duration extends to seven cycles—twenty-one cosmic days.”

Each rule etched itself into the novices’ minds—their survival depended on it.

Zizikaba rotated further, his third torso taking over:

“This iteration introduces… entertainments.”

The declaration elicited both excitement and dread.

“One: Expanded zones offer more options. Two: A bounty list will designate high-value parasites and mutants. Three: Killing rivals now transfers one-third of their points to you—alongside loot.”

The first two provoked murmurs, but the third sent shockwaves through the crowd. While the Novice Battlefield had always been lawless, its core purpose was hunting parasites—aligning with the spacefaring races’ greater war.

This new rule blatantly encouraged fratricide. Wouldn’t that undermine the event’s original purpose? More pressingly, everyone’s survival odds just plummeted.

“High rewards demand high risks,” Zizikaba continued, his expression taunting. “Kill three rivals, and your location broadcasts hourly to all. Hunt wisely.”

Ye Zhongming stroked his chin, arriving at a single conclusion:

We’re playthings.

These “novices” were clearly just toys for their overseers’ amusement.

“Four: Cooperative hunts earn bonuses. Bounty targets killed by multi-clan teams or groups over ten strong gain 10% extra points when split evenly. Each additional clan or ten members adds 5%, capping at double base value.”

The crowd reeled. Encouraging both betrayal and cooperation? Contemplating the implications, many fell into frantic calculation.

Zizikaba—his three arms clapping—recaptured their attention.

“This will be the most chaotic Novice Battlefield yet—forging stronger, smarter warriors. Other surprises await discovery.”

“Finally…”

“In twenty seconds, the camp comes under attack. Consider this your appetizer. Ready yourselves.”