Apocalypse Gachapon

“Clang!”

A crisp sound rang out as the stone hammer struck the Soaring Crystal before flying out of the black man’s grip. Many of the evolved watching shook their heads in disbelief.

Even if he was nervous, how could he be this shaky? Could he even be considered an evolved if he couldn’t even hold onto a hammer?

“I—”

The black man tried to say something, but the Soaring Crystal, now also sent flying, had already crashed into the three-dimensional wheel surface, producing the second crisp sound of the day.

Instantly, everyone’s attention was drawn to it.

From the perspective of the onlookers, the Soaring Crystal hadn’t traveled very far or very fast within the starry, three-dimensional space.

But visually, it gave everyone the impression that it had flown an unimaginable distance—perhaps hundreds or even thousands of light-years away.

Many of the lower-level evolved, or those with weaker mental fortitude, began trembling after watching for just a few moments, their backs drenched in cold sweat. It was as if they had been dragged into a mysterious cosmic void, drifting alone for tens of thousands of years.

The apocalypse had brought many things beyond human comprehension, but this sensation of “one glance spanning millennia” was something no one could rationalize—only fear.

“The Soaring Crystal has reached the Bright Star. Please choose: Purchase or Challenge?”

The wheel space’s cryptic announcement only deepened the confusion.

What was a Bright Star? What did Purchase mean? And what kind of Challenge was this?

Even those who hadn’t lived two lives like Ye Zhongming—who harbored deep resentment toward the apocalypse’s cruel games—now felt nothing but frustration toward the Mountain King Wheel’s absurd trial.

Wasn’t this just toying with them? No explanations, just forcing a choice—who knew what kind of trap lay hidden behind it?

“W-what does this mean?”

The black man’s voice trembled as he spoke.

Though he had been chosen as Great America’s representative, that didn’t mean he was strong. On the contrary, he was utterly expendable within their ranks.

Naturally, he wasn’t some high-ranking leader or powerhouse. After multiple rounds of battles and eliminations, he was simply the most suitable cannon fodder.

That’s why he had been picked. If striking the Soaring Crystal was harmless, he could do it. If there were risk, he would bear it—his death wouldn’t weaken Great America.

Courage often correlates with strength. The black man knew he wasn’t cut out for this. Helpless, he turned to look back at Governor Spade, the mountainous, obese leader of Great America.

“You choose Challenge!”

Governor Spade’s face darkened as he issued the command.

“No! I won’t! I—I can’t do it!”

If not for Cloud Peak and Mechanical Genius’s interference during the Death Staircase, allowing Great America to slip through by sheer luck, this black man might already be dead. Now, he clung to his life desperately.

Governor Spade ordering him to Challenge? Only an idiot wouldn’t realize he was being sent as a sacrificial scout. And in the Mountain King Wheel’s trial, scouting meant death.

The black man wanted to scream, “Why don’t YOU try it then?” But though terrified, he hadn’t lost all reason—he still had to live under Governor Spade’s rule afterward. So he could only keep repeating:

“No, no, NO!”

“You’re the first one. The Challenge won’t be too difficult. Don’t worry—nothing will happen.”

Governor Spade forced a greasy smile, trying to reassure his subordinate.

But the black man kept shaking his head, even backing away as if trying to retreat into Great America’s energy dome.

“You cannot leave before making a selection.”

An invisible force seized the six-star evolved, dragging him back in front of the stone platform to choose between Purchase or Challenge.

“I WON’T CHOOSE!”

The black man’s composure shattered as he began shouting hysterically.

“Countdown initiated. If no selection is made within ten seconds, the selector will be deemed to have voluntarily forfeited their life, and their faction will suffer a random penalty.”

A dead end.

No choice meant certain doom. Instantly, the entire Great America faction erupted into frantic pleas, urging him to pick something—anything—before they all suffered for his refusal.

“You’re all selfish bastards! Fine! I won’t Challenge—I’ll choose PURCHASE!”

The man snapped, ignoring his faction’s demands. But since he had to choose, he went with the option that at least sounded safer.

“Purchase selection confirmed. Please present equivalent payment.”

The prompt caught the black man off guard.

“Equivalent payment? What’s that?”

This time, the wheel space actually answered:

“Each Bright Star has its price. Every item has its value. If the value of your items matches the price of the Bright Star, the purchase will succeed.”

The crowd began to understand. Essentially, anything could be offered—but the space alone would decide its worth. If deemed sufficient, the payment would allow the purchase to go through.

But this raised a new problem:

What if everything he had wasn’t enough to buy even a single Bright Star?

“Then you may choose Challenge.”

Couldn’t afford it? Then fight for it. The rules were that simple.

The black man frantically pulled out his belongings—a small pouch from inside his clothes (he had no spatial equipment). Most of his resources had already been spent on scrolls and potions, leaving this pouch as his entire net worth.

“Please present equivalent payment.”

The space’s voice sounded icy to his ears. He held up a piece of magic crystal.

“Level three demon crystal—submission accepted. Please continue submitting…”

The crystal vanished instantly.

He pulled out another—this time, a tier-four crystal.

“Level three crystal—submission accepted. Please continue submitting…”

Like a nightmare on loop, the phrase “Please continue submitting” repeated endlessly, signaling that he still hadn’t met the price.

Soon, he exhausted all his magic crystals—including six level seven crystals he had painstakingly saved.

Those were his most valuable possessions.

Panic set in. Desperate, he started offering anything—item after item disappearing into the void, yet the demand for more never ceased.

Finally, he even stripped off his equipment—his armor, his boots, even his weapon—but it still wasn’t enough.

“I have NOTHING left! What the hell is a Bright Star worth?! How much more do I need?!”

With nothing left to give, the man screamed in despair.

“Remaining payment required for Bright Star (Zone One): 67.5%.”