SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 111: Battle of kings

Chapter 111: Battle of kings

Crack!

The scorched stone beneath Damien’s boots finally gave in, splintering with a sharp crack before erupting into fragments. Bits of molten rock scattered across the battlefield, clinking against the cold corpses strewn like forgotten relics of a once-mighty army.

Damien stood motionless amidst it all, his eyes glinting like obsidian—icy, unreadable.

He said nothing.

He made no sound.

He simply waited.

The wind howled around him, dragging ash and burnt cloth through the air like ghostly banners. The scent of smoke, blood, and gunpowder lingered in the atmosphere, thick enough to choke a lesser man.

But Damien didn’t even flinch.

His gaze remained fixed ahead, unblinking—waiting. Whether the Blue Hammer King would truly arrive or not, he couldn’t say for sure. But his instincts whispered something different. Something deep inside—perhaps a remnant of battle-honed intuition—told him the confrontation wasn’t over yet.

So he waited.

And the world waited with him.

There was no hint of triumph on his face, no satisfaction for having single-handedly reduced one of the continent’s great powers to ash. No trace of disdain either. His was the quiet certainty of inevitability. The Blue Hammer Kingdom had brought this upon themselves the moment they decided to meddle in things beyond their depth.

Now, they would pay the price.

Damien’s royal battle attire hung in tatters, little more than burnt cloth and blood-streaked armor. Deep gashes ran across the sleeves and shoulders, exposing muscle taut with exhaustion and steel-honed tension. Dried blood crusted in streaks across his torso—some of it his own, much of it not.

The battlefield had long since fallen into silence, but Damien stood like a lone specter of war—a monument to vengeance yet to be fulfilled.

The sun sagged lower still, its final rays stretching across the charred ground like desperate hands clinging to the world. Behind Damien, a shadow stretched—long, crooked, and vast, almost inhuman in its shape. From the distance, it looked like the silhouette of a god standing at the gates of judgment.

And then—

BOOM!

A deafening explosion shattered the silence.

It didn’t come from the earth this time—but from the sky.

Thunder cracked like the sky had split open, and in the distance, dozens of blinding bolts of lightning crashed down from the heavens like spears hurled by an angry pantheon.

Each one was as thick as the trunk of an ancient forest tree. The air shimmered with raw energy, and for a moment, the dimming world brightened again—bathed not in sunlight, but in divine fury.

It felt as if the sun had reversed course and reclaimed the heavens.

Damien raised his head slowly.

His eyes narrowed.

The clouds above roared and writhed, swirling like a vortex torn into the heavens. And then, through the parting skies, a shadow emerged—massive, regal, crackling with electric might.

The Blue Hammer King had arrived.

And the true battle... was just about to begin.

Standing over eight feet tall, the Blue Hammer King descended like a god of war, his massive frame radiating oppressive heat with every breath, although he simply stood there but hai presence was like as if some sort of restrictions had been put on the surroundings causing the air unable to flow.

His muscles rippled beneath taut skin, each one thick as coiled serpents, glowing a molten crimson—like veins of lava coursing through his body. For a moment, as he hovered in the blood-drenched skies, it felt as if he had merged with the sun itself, becoming its avatar of fury and destruction.

The armor he wore was pristine—spotless and immaculate. Forged from refined soulsteel and polished to a mirror sheen, it reflected the devastated battlefield below with perfect clarity. Fire, corpses, and twisted ruins danced across its surface like a living mural of war.

His descent came to a halt just meters above the cracked stone, the wind whipping violently around him, stirring dust and ash into a frenzied vortex. Then his gaze locked onto Damien.

That gaze—

It wasn’t human.

His eyes burned with a wild, frenzied light—half divine madness, half caged rage long suppressed. A predator that had just found a worthy adversary.

Damien didn’t flinch.

Their eyes met—and the world itself responded.

BOOM!

A thunderous shockwave exploded outward from the space between them, cracking the ground and splitting the air like an invisible blade had cleaved reality in two. Dust shot up in twin walls along the invisible fault line that divided them.

This was no ordinary pressure. This was willpower made manifest—raw strength and unbending dominance clashing with equal force.

Neither man gave ground.

Neither blinked.

The storm above responded to the tension, clouds swirling violently as mana and atmospheric pressure coiled tighter and tighter, like a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit.

Then, through the gnashing silence, the Blue Hammer King spoke.

His voice was low—sharp and tight, like a blade straining against its scabbard.

"Did you kill my son?"

There was no grief in the words. No fury.

Just a flat, subdued tone—an unnerving calm that sent a strange chill through the air. As if he weren’t inquiring about a child’s death, but reciting a weather report or casualty list.

Damien’s expression shifted slightly.

He had expected this question—how could he not? But never in such a hollow tone. It was... disconcerting.

Still, he didn’t answer.

He merely returned the king’s gaze with an indifferent stare. Cold. Silent. Unflinching.

But the look said everything.

So what if I killed him? What are you going to do about it?

The Blue Hammer King stared at Damien, his eyes twitching.

And then he broke.

Laughter erupted—raw, feral, echoing like thunder rolling across the plains.

"Hahahahaha...!"

It wasn’t joy.

It wasn’t grief.

It was the sound of something snapping inside a man who had lost control of the narrative.

The sky responded once again—darkening further, as if mourning what was about to unfold.

The real war was about to begin.

"Hahahahaha!"

The Blue Hammer King howled like a lunatic, his laughter ricocheting across the ruined battlefield. It echoed against the shattered walls and rang through the blood-soaked air, a twisted melody of madness and fury.

Damien didn’t interrupt.

He stood there, unmoved, gaze calm and unblinking—as if observing a curious specimen in a glass cage.

He was genuinely interested in what the king found so funny.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the laughter ceased.

The king’s head snapped forward, and his eyes locked onto Damien with an intensity so cold it seemed to freeze the air between them. The twisted grin vanished, replaced by a snarl of pure hatred.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, you dirty little shit?" the king growled, each word laced with venom. "Just because you’ve clawed your way to some borrowed power, you think you’re invincible?"

The ground beneath him cracked as his aura surged.

"Let me show you... what real power truly means!"

His voice thundered like a storm front, shaking the stones beneath their feet.

Damien’s face remained placid. The crazed ranting confirmed what he already suspected:

The king had finally lost it.

After watching his kingdom fall, his cities crumble, and his bloodline severed—all within a single day—it was only a matter of time.

What was surprising was that he had held it together this long.

It only spoke to the sheer willpower of the man—of the king he used to be.

And now that will had shattered.

Suddenly, the heavens above rumbled.

KRRAAKKOOOM!

A massive streak of bluish lightning crackled across the crimson sky, tearing through the clouds like a divine spear. From its epicenter, a bolt descended—as thick as an elephant’s waist—and crashed directly atop the king.

BOOOOM!

The impact shook the entire capital like an earthquake.

But when the light faded, the Blue Hammer King stood unharmed—his body radiating divine fury, his armor crackling with electric arcs.

Clutched in both hands was a monstrous weapon—a hammer twice his size, its handle forged from the spine of a Leviabeast and its head pulsating with the rhythm of a thunderstorm.

Damien’s pupils narrowed.

"Seven Strikes of the Divine Hammer!"

The king’s voice was resolute—declaring war itself.

He raised the hammer high, and the air cried out in protest, rippling with pressure. Just one swing of the weapon sent a devastating shockwave howling outward, tearing nearby stone and soil from the earth like paper caught in a gale.

Damien watched with stillness.

His eyes calm.

His mind focused.

Inside his spiritual space, the acceleration marble began to spin violently—drawing in energy, compressing space and time itself.

The hum grew louder—a deep, pulsing rhythm that even the Blue Hammer soldiers hiding in bunkers could faintly hear.

A storm was brewing inside Damien.

And he was ready to unleash it.

Suddenly, the king vanished in a flash of blue lightning, reappearing mid-air above Damien with divine force crackling around him.

"First Strike—Blue Hammer: Crushing the Bones!"

The hammer came crashing down.

The sky split.

The earth screamed.

And the war between kings had truly begun.

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