SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 115: fine I will find it myself

Chapter 115: fine I will find it myself

From the smoking crater, framed by jagged rubble and drifting ash, a figure emerged—graceful, yet shrouded in deathly silence.

A woman in a flowing black gown, her steps slow and measured, stepped into the ruined corridor. Every movement she made radiated solemnity and grace, but the cold fire burning in her eyes betrayed the storm within.

She was none other than the Blue Hammer Queen.

Tick... tick, tick.

Her heels echoed like war drums, each one louder than the last, as if the walls themselves were paying respect—or perhaps issuing a warning. The air grew heavier with each of her steps, weighed down by an invisible pressure.

Damien, who had been dusting off the hem of his shredded pants with casual disdain, looked up with curiosity.

His eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and intrigue.

There was something different about this woman—something regal, dignified... and useful.

Very useful.

He tilted his head, a charming grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Hey, kind lady, would you like to help this lost young man and guide me to the royal treasury?"

His voice was light, even playful, like someone asking for directions on a lazy afternoon stroll.

But the Queen’s face remained unmoved. Her expression was carved from stone.

Instead of answering, she asked her own question. Her voice was low, controlled, yet laced with deadly edge.

"Did you kill my son?"

A pause.

Damien’s gaze shifted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. But his expression remained calm, almost serene.

He replied with a casual shrug, "Which son?"

The moment the words left his lips, the Queen’s restraint shattered.

Her face contorted in a snarl of grief and fury. Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling with suppressed rage. Every inch of her posture screamed hatred as her voice tore through the silence—

"You will regret this! I will make sure—"

BANG!

A single, sharp crack split the air.

A bullet of condensed mana had already left Epoch Breaker’s barrel, faster than thought, faster than mercy.

The Queen’s body jerked mid-sentence, blood blooming from her chest like a withered rose in the snow.

Time seemed to freeze.

Her form, once proud and composed, collapsed to the ground with a muted thud, the echoes swallowed by the dust-choked silence of the castle.

Damien sighed and lowered his weapon.

His expression wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t kind either.

Just... indifferent.

"Tch. Looks like I’ll have to find the treasury on my own."

His footsteps resumed, steady and unhurried, as if he hadn’t just assassinated royalty mid-conversation. Rubble crunched beneath his boots as he disappeared into the shadows of the ruined palace.

With that, Damien didn’t waste another second. His silhouette flickered and vanished into the darkened hallways, each step carrying purpose.

Now, there was only one way to locate the royal treasury—instinct and mana sense.

Damien slowed his pace, closing his eyes for a brief moment as his spiritual field expanded outward like invisible ripples on a calm lake. His senses sharpened, cutting through stone and silence alike, tracing the pulse of energy flowing through the castle’s foundations.

He opened his eyes. They gleamed with clarity.

Beneath.

Deeper underground, nestled in the roots of the palace, the concentration of mana was several times denser than anywhere else nearby. Like a heart buried beneath a body of stone, it called to him.

Without hesitation, Damien followed the unseen current, his feet moving soundlessly over cracked marble and broken tiles. Moments later, he arrived before a massive, steel door embedded into the wall like a stubborn scar.

He tilted his head, admiring the craftsmanship.

"This should be it."

The vault door was monstrous—ten feet tall, six feet wide, and covered in a complex lattice of carved runes and shimmering formation arrays, all pulsing with residual energy. Protective enchantments layered over it like chainmail, glowing faintly even now.

Still, the treasury wasn’t hidden at all. It sat right here, waiting—like a challenge.

Damien smirked. "I see... they thought the formations alone were enough. Makes sense. If I had this many defense arrays, I wouldn’t bother hiding it either."

Then his knuckles cracked, echoing like distant thunder.

"But let’s see if it can withstand one punch."

He stepped forward, drawing in a deep breath. The acceleration marble inside his spiritual space howled with power. A silvery aura surged across his body, flowing through his limbs like liquid lightning. His muscles tensed, charged with raw force.

Time seemed to slow.

In the next instant, he launched his fist forward.

BOOOOOOM!

The explosion rocked the underground chamber. The steel door, despite its magical reinforcement, cracked apart like cheap porcelain. Runes shattered like glass under the impact. A brilliant burst of silver and blue light illuminated the corridor as the door was launched into the air, spinning like a meteor.

Dust clouded the space—and then cleared.

What lay beyond was something out of legend.

Damien stepped forward, stunned despite himself.

A treasury so vast it defied imagination stretched out before him. Towering piles of gold bricks, mana crystals, and enchanted artifacts glistened in ambient light. Ancient relics

But at this moment, Damien didn’t have the luxury to marvel at the sheer size of the treasury. His sharp eyes locked onto something else—something far more mesmerizing.

Gold.

Piles upon piles of gold coins were scattered like rubble, spilling across the stone floor in rivers of shimmering light. They reflected the silvery glow of his acceleration aura, casting dancing patterns on the surrounding walls.

Their bright golden gleam nearly blinded him.

"Damn... such wealth."

The words escaped him in a low murmur, tinged with awe. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of untold riches settling into his vision.

For a moment, he allowed himself to feel it—the excitement, the triumph, the giddy disbelief of standing atop a kingdom’s plunder.

But the thrill faded quickly.

As dazzling as the sight was, Damien knew better. No matter how much gold filled the room, in the end, it meant little to a cultivator.

Wealth without power was useless.

What truly mattered... were mana stones.

Still, the gold wasn’t completely without value. Damien rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"This much gold... I could pay entire battalions for years," he muttered, eyes scanning the massive stacks.

It would be more than enough to pay the salaries of his low-ranking soldiers, grease the hands of greedy nobles, or buy influence in weaker provinces. Coins had their place—even in a world ruled by power.

Satisfied with that conclusion, Damien ignored the glittering mounds for now and continued his search.

He moved deeper into the treasury, his steps echoing faintly in the vault’s vast emptiness. After only a few moments, something caught his attention.

A large steel box, nearly half-buried beneath the mountain of coins.

His eyes narrowed.

He crouched and placed his hand on the cool metal surface. It was old—heavy—and locked tight with a subtle enchantment seal that flickered faintly under his touch.

Damien hesitated for only a second, then pushed it free from the pile and pried it open.

Clink!

The sharp sound of crystal against steel rang out.

Inside, a deep purple glow pulsed faintly. The box was filled to the brim with perfectly cut mana stones, their translucent bodies glowing with potent energy. The air in the chamber thickened almost instantly, and Damien felt his spiritual field react instinctively to the dense Amma now saturating the air.

His lips curled into a rare, satisfied smile.

"Jackpot."

To his surprise, there was nothing inside the box—it was completely empty.

Damien didn’t think much about it and continued searching.

After ten minutes, he found five more such steel boxes, but like the last, they were also empty.

At this point, Damien was starting to have a bad feeling.

Something definitely isn’t adding up.

Still, he continued to search, once again finding another box, but unlike the others, this one didn’t seem to be made out of steel but seemed to be constructed entirely out of glass. Moreover, not just that—it was smaller in size as well.

The size caused the hope that had ignited in his chest to die down.

Still, even though he wasn’t entirely confident, Damien decided to go ahead and open it.

With a satisfying click, the ancient box sprang open, its hinges groaning faintly with age.

A faint whiff of old parchment and dried ink escaped into the air, carried on a subtle breeze of mana that drifted out like a breath held for centuries. The smell was earthy, aged—like something untouched for decades.

"What’s this?" Damien murmured.

He leaned down and gently picked up a tightly rolled scroll, bound by a brittle red thread. The material crackled softly under his fingers as if warning him how fragile it was.

Carefully, he untied it and began to unroll the parchment. Inked letters stretched out across the page—thin, deliberate strokes written in a neat but ancient hand. Some of the writing had faded with time, the ink now more of a shadow than a mark, but the words were still decipherable.

And as his eyes scanned the title, his eyebrows shot upward in surprise.

"Basic Alchemical Fire Recipe."

A spark of intrigue flashed in his eyes.

Damien tilted his head slightly, rereading the words again just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. A recipe—in the royal treasury? He hadn’t expected that.

Alchemical Fire wasn’t just any flame—it was a dangerous, highly volatile concoction. Even a small vial could melt steel or turn a stone wall into rubble. It was banned in some provinces, hoarded in others.

And now, right in front of him, was a guide to making it.

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