SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 100: liberation

Chapter 100: liberation

"Speak."

Damien’s voice cut through the wind—calm, cold, and unquestionable.

He didn’t turn around.

His bloodstained figure stood tall amidst the wreckage, eyes locked on the horizon where clouds of dust roiled like an advancing storm.

Behind him, the Iron Dungeon Stronghold Leader immediately stepped forward, his head bowed in deference.

"Crown Prince," he began, his tone grim, "the main army of the Blue Hammer Kingdom has been sighted approaching. Judging by their formation and speed, they’re not here for negotiation."

He paused, gathering his breath.

"If I’m not mistaken... they’re led by one of the two Supreme Generals—likely the father of that girl."

But before he could finish the report, Damien raised a single hand.

A subtle gesture—yet the effect was immediate. The commander halted mid-sentence, lowering his gaze without resistance. In that moment, the only sound was the distant rumble of armored boots and the faint whistle of wind sweeping across the broken city.

Damien’s gaze never wavered.

His eyes, sharp and unwavering, tracked the rising dust cloud in the distance—its edges glinting faintly under the afternoon sun.

Despite the destruction, despite the blood staining his skin and the exhaustion still gnawing at his bones, his expression remained unshaken.

Now that his talent had leveled up, he felt no fear.

Only focus.

He inhaled deeply, letting the air fill his lungs like fuel poured onto a waiting fire.

Then, in a voice that brooked no hesitation, he spoke:

"Clean the entire city."

His tone was low, but carried weight—like iron scraping against stone.

"Anything of value—be it material, strategic, or arcane—must be seized and sorted."

He paused for a heartbeat.

"Search every noble family’s treasury. I want every False Path and hidden technique uncovered. If anything of importance is found... report to me immediately."

The Iron Dungeon leader nodded—but too quickly. A sharp, instinctual response. One that lacked intention.

Damien’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

A flicker of displeasure.

It was enough.

The commander, sensing it, immediately corrected himself—bowing with crisp military precision.

Only then did Damien’s expression ease, the lines of irritation smoothing from his face.

The man bowed once more, then turned and swiftly vanished into the ruins, his orders already being relayed.

Damien no longer watched him.

His gaze returned to the horizon—to the approaching army, stretching like a dark tide toward the battered bones of Dreamy Sky City.

He stood at the edge of the destruction, a lone figure amidst craters and crushed stone, his hair dancing in the wind.

And then...

He took one step forward.

The world blurred.

And just like that—he was gone.

After the brutal clash with John, Damien felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation coursing through him.

Liberation.

But it wasn’t the kind born of victory—it was deeper, more primal.

A liberation from fear.

A liberation from expectation.

For the first time in his life, Damien felt detached from the outcome—whether he lived or died, won or lost. None of it mattered anymore.

What mattered was the now.

The present.

Not the past filled with dirt and struggle. Not the future clouded with uncertainty.

As long as he gave his all—truly everything—that was enough.

His thoughts were abruptly silenced as a thunderous sonic boom cracked through the sky.

His body hurtled forward, faster than the eye could follow, his movement breaking the hypersonic barrier. Trees blurred past like green streaks of light, the air rippling violently in his wake.

Yet, under the effects of Accelerated Cognition, his mind remained perfectly calm.

At more than 6,000 kilometers per hour, even a stray branch should have turned him into red mist. But with his mental faculties running at hundreds of times the normal speed, he navigated flawlessly—threading the needle through space and death.

Then—without warning—he stopped.

Damien’s feet met the ground with a heavy boom, the dirt cracking beneath him.

In the blink of an eye, he stood at the outskirts of the city, directly facing the main force of the Blue Hammer Kingdom’s army.

They had arrived in full splendor—columns of gleaming armor, rows of mounted war beasts, the banners of Blue Hammer fluttering like a tide of thunderclouds.

But Damien only had eyes for one man.

At the very front stood a warrior in resplendent golden armor, radiating an oppressive aura that distorted the air around him.

From time to time, golden rings shimmered into existence around him—rippling out like echoes of a divine heartbeat. The rings weren’t ornamental. They were leaks—fleeting distortions created by the intense interaction between his domain and the surrounding mana.

Without that friction, the domain would have been invisible.

Damien’s skin, already burned and torn from the earlier fight, began to smoke again. His wounds were closing rapidly, but each healing burst only added to the internal heat. The blood in his veins threatened to boil, steam rising from beneath his cracked skin.

He stood tall, back straight, soul weapon gripped tight.

"He’s strong."

The words left Damien’s mouth in a low murmur.

His eyes, narrowed and focused, locked onto the enemy commander.

The leader of the Rosewood Family.

A man whose very presence warped the battlefield.

A man who might have come to bury Damien once and for all.

But Damien no longer cared.

The outcome was irrelevant.

Only the battle ahead held meaning.

The man’s presence loomed like a gilded monolith.

His aura was even more oppressive than John’s—the Channel Forging Realm expert Damien had barely survived against.

But only slightly.

Damien’s knuckles cracked as his fists clenched tighter.

"I should be able to deal with him," he muttered, his voice steady, eyes burning with renewed purpose.

Across the battlefield, the Supreme Golden General of the Blue Hammer Kingdom stood unmoving—until he felt it. That gaze. Piercing. Focused. Unflinching.

His head turned sharply.

His golden eyes met Damien’s with a look that could melt steel.

Fire. Rage. Wrath.

They weren’t just eyes—they were flames, barely restrained behind the helmet’s narrow slit. For a brief moment, the general had expected another Channel Forging Realm expert—perhaps that rumored guardian from the Three Pill School, the one always trailing the Crown Prince.

But what he saw instead was a young man.

Torn and bloodstained.

Alone.

And yet... his presence, his gaze, his aura, it all whispered of something terrifying.

Then, the general’s eyes sharpened into slits.

A memory surged forward.

That scent—the faint trace of it in Damien’s blood-covered skin. The remnants of his daughter’s aura. Her final moments, etched into this man’s soul like an invisible brand.

The man standing before him was no mystery anymore.

He was the killer.

The one who had ended his daughter.

The stain on the Rosewood name.

Instantly, a grave, murderous resolve overtook the general.

He didn’t know who Damien was.

He didn’t care.

He simply had to die.

Without hesitation, the general’s domain flared outward, a golden halo erupting around him like a solar flare. The air screamed with a high-pitched whine, distorted by the sheer intensity of mana circulating through the man’s body.

It was as if the very atmosphere bowed in reverence to his will.

Damien’s senses flared.

Mana flow: abnormal. Circulation speed: exponential.

Before he could process the warning signs, the Supreme General vanished.

Not a single sound. Not a flicker. Not even a breeze.

Just... gone.

Damien blinked—once, then twice.

Nothing.

The battlefield was empty before him.

But every instinct in his body screamed otherwise.

Danger was near. Danger was real. Danger was absolute.

His eyes widened, not with fear, but with cold, honed awareness.

He didn’t know where the enemy was.

But he knew one thing for certain—

He was about to strike.

"Thinking of attacking me from behind?"

Damien’s thoughts sharpened into a blade’s edge as his eyes narrowed, scanning the battlefield.

The air was thick with tension—heavy, charged, and volatile.

And yet, his lips curled upward slightly, a faint smirk blooming on his bloodstained face.

Let him try.

He had plenty of ways to force the bastard out of hiding.

Without warning, Damien moved.

A sharp crack shattered the silence as the earth beneath his feet split from the force of his acceleration.

In the next instant, he was gone—vanished like a shadow under noonlight.

And then—

Boom!

He reappeared right in the middle of the Blue Hammer Kingdom’s army, Epoch Breaker clenched tightly in his right hand, its surface humming with restrained mana.

Gasps erupted from the ranks.

Soldiers staggered back in confusion and horror, forming a ring around the lone figure who had dropped into their midst like a meteor from the heavens.

His cloak billowed behind him, soaked in blood and dust, eyes glowing faintly with silver traces of mana. Burnt flesh steamed as it healed in real time, muscles tightening beneath his skin like coiled steel.

Damien raised his head slowly and looked around.

His gaze was calm—too calm—the calm of a storm right before it tore everything apart.

"Come out," he whispered under his breath. "Or I’ll force you to."

Booom! Thunder rumbled as if angered by his words.