SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 109: Horrifying

Chapter 109: Horrifying

Damien stood tall—straight as a spear—at the edge of the battlefield.

He was utterly alone.

His soldiers had already returned to Valthorn City with the spoils of war. There was no army at his back. No companions to share the burden of this final confrontation.

Only the howling wind whistled in his ears, whispering like spirits of fallen warriors, and above him, the sun hung low in the sky—sinking, golden, and solemn. It almost felt as if the celestial giant itself was watching... silently bearing witness to what was about to unfold.

Damien’s expression was cold—sharper than steel, his face unreadable.

His gaze was fixed on the massive stone walls before him—the outer defenses of Blue Hammer Kingdom’s capital.

They were colossal, constructed by the group of Divine Researchers, according to the rumours the king paid a hefty price.

Towers and walls stacked high like a fortress meant to defy the heavens themselves.

But Damien felt nothing.

No fear.

No awe.

Just resolve.

The time had come.

The final showdown was here.

"Almost perfect timing," Damien muttered under his breath. "The sun is about to set."

He tilted his head upward, just slightly, allowing himself one last look at the descending sun as it kissed the horizon with fire.

A rare smile touched the corner of his lips.

He had made it in time.

Every city he needed to conquer—every target on his path—had fallen before dusk.

His bold declaration, made earlier that day, would hold true:

By sunset, the Blue Hammer Kingdom would be no more.

With quiet steps, he advanced—closer and closer toward the towering walls.

In front of those gigantic ramparts, which soared tens of meters into the sky, Damien’s figure seemed laughably small. A lone figure against an empire. An ant challenging a mountain.

Yet...

That very ant made the soldiers atop the walls tremble.

Their eyes, once filled with disdain, now brimmed with dread.

They knew who this man was. The whispers had long reached the capital—all six major cities had fallen, one after another, like dominoes.

And the one responsible?

Him.

This lone man—this cold figure walking calmly toward their gates—was the harbinger of their kingdom’s fall.

Just then, atop the towering wall, a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and a bald, glinting head narrowed his eyes at the lone figure below.

Three golden stars stitched onto his shoulder pad marked his identity—a second-line general, ranked just below the true titans of the kingdom: the Supreme Golden General and the Blue Hammer King himself.

His arms were crossed. His posture casual. But his eyes burned with restrained tension.

"So this is the man who killed the Supreme Golden General..." he muttered coldly, voice like gravel scraping against stone.

"He doesn’t look like much."

Up close, Damien’s lean build and calm expression seemed unremarkable. He was no towering brute, no hulking monster radiating madness.

And yet...

This same man had toppled six cities in one day.

Still, standing here—watching him from the lofty perch of the wall—the general felt... underwhelmed. The dread that had gnawed at his gut for hours began to dissolve, replaced by something else.

Anger.

Deep, burning rage.

Why did I fear this man? This lone insect dares to challenge a kingdom?

His lips curled into a cold smirk.

He raised a single finger—pointed it down at Damien like a judge passing sentence.

"Open fire."

The words echoed across the ramparts like a war horn.

And then he turned away.

Dismissive.

As if Damien’s fate was already sealed.

---

What followed was chaos.

The massive city walls erupted in flame and thunder.

Thousands of hidden cannons, enchanted ballistas, and mana-charged turrets activated in perfect unison, each one spitting death at incredible speed. The sky turned black with smoke and fire, painted in crimson arcs of destruction as countless projectiles screamed downward.

It was like watching a meteor shower fall in reverse—from the ground upward.

No one could survive this.

Not a single soul believed otherwise.

Even the general, his back now turned, could already hear the mental sound of bones shattering and flesh being torn apart.

High above, in the crystal tower of the palace, the Blue Hammer King himself watched from a distance—his expression grim.

It’s over, he thought.

He may be strong... but no one could endure that.

Not even Damien Harrier.

High atop his throne—a regal seat sculpted from jade-black stone and etched with the ancient sigils of the Blue Hammer dynasty—the king sat watching.

His expression was unreadable, but the fingers on the armrest twitched slightly, betraying the unspoken tension building inside him.

Before him hovered a magical screen, glowing with ethereal blue light, casting flickering shadows across the vast royal chamber. On the screen, Damien Harrier walked—unflinching, unhurried—amid a storm of death.

Thousands of cannonballs screeched through the air, cutting arcs of fire and pressure...

And Damien?

He moved through them like he was strolling through a field of falling petals.

"He is the one...?" the king asked quietly, his deep voice echoing across the silent throne room. There was no one beside him, yet the words hung in the air like a question tossed into the void.

His majestic gaze narrowed, cutting across the magical screen like a blade. He peered at Damien’s aura—his posture, his stride, his confidence.

No Domain Manifestation. No silver bone shine. No golden gleam.

Just... Iron.

Peak Iron.

And yet...

His instincts screamed at him that this was not someone to take lightly.

The pressure that Damien radiated didn’t match his realm at all.

This is impossible, the king thought. A peak Iron ranker? Then how...

Just as confusion swirled in his eyes, Damien moved.

A blur.

A flicker of afterimages.

A ghost dancing through hellfire.

It wasn’t the fact that Damien moved that alarmed the king—but the speed.

His eyes narrowed to two razor-thin slits.

"No... that’s not movement. That’s teleportation."

---

Outside the capital walls...

The battlefield was chaos incarnate.

Explosions boomed like rolling thunder, turning dirt and stone into dust. Each shell was imbued with layered formations meant to vaporize silver-rank targets.

Yet, Damien was untouched.

He moved like a phantom—flickering left and right, zigzagging at impossible angles. Projectiles tore past him, shattered the earth, ignited the skies, but not a single cannonball came close enough to graze him.

To the untrained eye, it truly looked like teleportation.

To Damien, it was simply movement refined to the point of impossibility.

Inside, he could feel it—the boost after leveling up had transformed him. His already terrifying Acceleration Talent had gone from 500x to 600x. And with it came not just speed, but power. Precision. Control.

Even he was stunned.

A faint thought crept into his mind as he flickered through the barrage:

Is this what it feels like to transcend your limits?

It was exhilarating...

And horrifying.

Even to him.

This power...

This speed...

Damien clenched his fists as he dashed through the storm of cannon fire, his body a blur against the golden-red sky.

This... was the enhancement he had gained at Iron rank.

A chilling thought gripped his mind:

What would happen... once he reached Silver? Gold?

His current abilities were already bordering on insane. He could move faster than perception, strike faster than thought, and now even shrug off mana-saturated artillery fire.

If this was only the beginning...

Just how monstrous would he become?

The sheer potential of his path made even Damien’s usually stone-cold heart race.

He was so lost in the idea of his future strength, he almost didn’t notice the cannonball that cut through the air—so close it sliced a thin line across his cheek.

"Hmm," Damien exhaled with mild annoyance, a sharp snort escaping his nostrils.

His eyes narrowed, and Epoch Breaker materialized in his hands like a phantom forged from pure will.

The soul weapon pulsed with silent fury, the edges glowing faintly—it was on the verge of evolution.

A savage grin split across Damien’s face.

"Die."

That single word cracked like thunder.

With practiced ease, he raised Epoch Breaker and opened fire.

Instantly, the night blazed with blue light, searing arcs of pure mana racing forward like comets. The compressed energy rounds screamed through the air, each one precisely aimed at the cannons dotting the capital wall.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

One by one, the cannons exploded in flames, the defenses that once loomed with confidence now reduced to molten metal and shattered stone.

The massive wall—once an unbreakable barrier—was now a blazing inferno, engulfed in smoke and collapsing towers.

Panic spread like wildfire. Blue Hammer soldiers screamed as their stations burst apart, their formations broke, and chaos overtook discipline.

Some leapt from the walls in desperation. Others dropped their weapons and fled blindly into the inner city, stumbling over the charred remnants of their comrades.

Damien stood tall, unwavering, the only unmoving force in a world unraveling around him.

His gaze was locked onto the heart of the city beyond the crumbling wall.

The true enemy waited there.

And Damien...

He was coming.