SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 107: Desperate belief

Chapter 107: Desperate belief

"So, in the end... you’re telling me that Damien was the one who set up this so-called bank?"

Queen Violet’s voice echoed through the hall, her eyes widening in astonishment as the pieces clicked together.

"That he created it to address the financial crisis that was slowly strangling the kingdom... and also to secure the citizens’ wealth from corrupt nobles and outside interference?"

She blinked once. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face—

genuine and filled with awe.

"Simply genius! Why did I never think of this?"

Her tone was that of someone who had just witnessed the impossible, only to realize it had been made possible by her own son. Her gaze softened, no longer that of a queen or diplomat, but of a mother whose faith had finally been validated.

All those years, everyone had whispered that Damien was crazy—reckless, unstable, dangerous.

But she had refused to believe them.

Even when his ideas defied tradition.

Even when his actions stirred conflict within the noble houses.

Even when he had pushed boundaries others dared not approach.

She had stood by him, quietly, and let him find his own way.

Though, in hindsight, perhaps she had been a bit too permissive.

A faint, rueful smile tugged at her lips.

That same unwavering belief had made Damien bold—rampant, even. Bold enough to nearly seduce the strongest woman in the Harrier family castle.

What was her name again?

Violet tried to recall, but it slipped away like a leaf in the wind.

Her smile dimmed slightly, replaced by a hint of melancholy.

She remembered that woman—how gifted she was, how effortlessly she seemed to eclipse everything Violet had worked for. No matter how hard Violet had tried, she could never quite catch up.

That quiet rivalry, that shadow of always being one step behind... it had lingered in her heart for years.

But then, with a sharp breath, she shook her head.

Now wasn’t the time for regrets or ghosts of the past.

There were more pressing concerns. Like—

"Where is my little cutie?" she asked suddenly, her voice brightening with a note of mischief. "Damien didn’t tell me he was outside the city. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he have come out to meet me?"

Her question hung in the air like a blade cloaked in silk.

The room tensed.

Devrok’s jaw tightened. Niomi looked away. The atmosphere shifted from nostalgic warmth to uncomfortable silence.

And then, like a crack forming in a frozen lake, the strained smiles appeared—one by one.

Because the answer was painfully simple.

If Damien were in the city, he would have run to greet her.

He wasn’t the type to miss such a moment.

But he wasn’t here.

Because he had gone to war.

Alone.

Marching into the forbidden Blue Hammer Kingdom—a place every general and strategist had warned them not to provoke.

And Violet... had no idea.

Yet.

Although every person in the hallway was screaming the truth internally, not a single soul dared voice it aloud.

Who had the courage to look Queen Violet in the eye and tell her that her son had walked alone into the jaws of death?

Thankfully for them, Violet remained focused on the entrance to the hall, her expression expectant.

Her posture, regal yet soft, gave the impression that Damien would walk in any moment now, smiling as he always did, full of unruly confidence and reckless charm.

But moments passed.

And no one came.

She continued waiting, her gaze unwavering, as if sheer willpower could make him appear. But even as the doors remained still and the shadows unchanged, Damien didn’t arrive.

Slowly, painfully, five minutes crawled by—

minutes that felt like an eternity wrapped in silence.

And by the end of them, Violet’s calm was gone.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes narrowed.

The smile she once wore had completely vanished, replaced by the quiet severity of a queen—and a mother who knew something was terribly wrong.

He wasn’t here.

If Damien had been in the city—he would have been the first to greet her.

Of that, she was absolutely certain.

Her voice, low and cold, echoed through the marble-floored corridor.

"Where is he?"

No one responded.

The silence was no longer awkward.

It was suffocating.

Because if Violet couldn’t sense the danger by now, she might as well get her head checked—that was the unspoken thought on everyone’s mind.

Still, no one said a word.

She turned sharply toward Devrok and Niomi—but the moment her eyes landed on them, they both looked away, their expressions taut with guilt and hesitation.

And that was all the confirmation she needed.

Her gaze sharpened into a glare.

Violet’s expression turned glacial, her features cold enough to freeze the room.

She whirled toward the nearest guard and spoke, her voice coated in ice:

"You there. Tell me the whereabouts of Crown Prince Damien."

The soldier stiffened. Every instinct screamed at him to flee—but his training wouldn’t allow it.

He was one of the elite—one of the guards chosen to serve inside the Harrier castle itself. He had faced assassins, ambushes, even spirit beasts.

But this... this was something else.

He had watched Prince Devrok dodge that very question moments ago.

How could a mere guard answer what the prince himself dared not?

And so he stood there, frozen in place, caught between the wrath of a queen...

and the secret they all wished to avoid.

He had been nothing more than a normal resident not long ago—

just another young man trying to survive in the back alleys of Valthorn City.

But everything changed a few months ago.

One day, without warning, his name was chosen—handpicked to serve as a palace guard. The moment he put on that silver-plated uniform, his world flipped on its head.

Everywhere he went, people who once ignored him now greeted him with awe.

Neighbors bowed their heads.

Old friends offered drinks.

Even his bitter relatives—who used to grumble at the sight of him—suddenly sang his praises, treating him like some kind of noble scion.

The sheer difference in treatment had left him stunned.

From forgotten to revered. From mocked to admired.

The palace uniform was more than metal and cloth—it was power.

But now... now that same uniform felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

Because at this moment, in the presence of Queen Violet,

he had a terrifying premonition—

his good fortune was coming to an end.

As the hall plunged into tense silence, the young guard stood stiffly in place, his thoughts racing.

He could feel her gaze shift toward him again.

And this time, it was no longer a passive glance.

It was a glacier carving its way through his soul.

Her piercing blue eyes locked onto him like a predator sizing up prey.

His spine went rigid. A chill spread through his limbs.

Unconsciously, his knees began to shake.

Small tremors that rattled the very armor he wore.

Beads of cold sweat traced down the sides of his forehead, his breath stuck between his lungs and lips.

He wanted to say something—anything—but fear crushed his voice.

From the side, Devrok watched the entire scene unfold.

He could only sigh inwardly.

The thing he had tried to avoid was unraveling right before his eyes.

The guard’s lips trembled as he finally opened his mouth, his voice barely steady enough to speak.

"R-Replying to Her Highness the Queen... the Crown Prince is currently leading the royal army to deal with the Blue Hammer Kingdom."

The words echoed through the corridor like thunder.

And the moment they left his mouth, Queen Violet’s gaze snapped to Devrok.

It was sharp, precise—like a dagger made of pure mana.

Devrok’s shoulders tensed.

His lips twitched involuntarily, and he let out another long, resigned sigh.

Today was going to be a very long day.

He barely had time to prepare himself when a voice, filled with raw fury, erupted through the hallway:

"What is the meaning of this?!"

The voice was so loud it made Devrok’s ears ring.

It was less a question and more an explosion of disbelief wrapped in rage.

"Went to war?!" she repeated, her tone rising with every syllable.

"Tell me this is some sort of prank."

There was a dangerous tremor in her voice now—

a mother clinging to the hope that this was some elaborate misunderstanding.

She took a step forward, her gown flowing like a stormcloud behind her, eyes flashing with blue fire.

"Because if it is... then I assure you—I’m not even slightly amused."

Her words dropped into silence like a blade hitting stone.

No one dared speak.

Violet stood like an enraged lioness—a sovereign in both blood and wrath.

Her cold, piercing gaze was so sharp that Devrok couldn’t even meet her eyes directly. His usual composure faltered under the weight of that glare, and for a moment, it felt like even the air in the corridor had frozen.

Just as the tension reached its peak, hanging like a blade suspended by a thread—

a soft voice echoed, breaking through the suffocating silence.

"Mother... don’t worry."

It was Niomi.

Her voice trembled slightly at first, but she pressed on, forcing calm into every word.

"Damien will return... completely unharmed."

There was a faint quiver in her tone, betraying her doubt.

And yet, at the very end, her voice turned hopeful—

as if, by speaking those words aloud, she could will them into truth.

But even she knew—

deep down—

that her confidence wasn’t rooted in certainty, but in desperate belief.

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