SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 92: Contrast

Chapter 92: Contrast

"Steward John, there’s no need for you to waste your time. I can handle this matter myself..."

The Blue Hammer Crown Prince spoke with a polite smile, his voice even, though a faint trace of unease lurked beneath his words. His expression, refined and composed, hid the turmoil that churned quietly behind his eyes.

Beside him stood a man in his early thirties, dressed in immaculate white robes. His figure was broad and muscular, the posture of a seasoned cultivator, but it was his eyes—sharp and unreadable—that hinted at the layers of schemes behind his calm demeanor.

John.

He gave a small wave of his hand, his smile calm and unbothered. "Actually, it’s nothing much," he said with a chuckle, the wind fluttering the edges of his robes. "I was planning to head toward the Thousand Beast Forest anyway. I heard the Thousand Mile Toad recently appeared in the forest."

His voice was casual, but his words carried weight.

"Besides," he added, "you can consider this a small welcoming gift—for you officially joining our Three Alchemical School."

"This..." The Blue Hammer Crown Prince hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly in just the right amount. His acting was flawless, as though John’s generosity had put him in a difficult position.

But inwardly, he was far from calm.

Don’t play games with me, old fox.

He wasn’t some greenhorn fresh out of the palace walls. The brutal power struggle for the throne had long since stripped away his naivety. He had seen ministers sell their own blood for status, generals switch allegiance for a better future, and siblings plot one another’s deaths without blinking an eye.

And this man—this Steward John—he didn’t strike him as someone who would help without reason.

Why? That was the question echoing through his mind. Why was someone of John’s status accompanying him personally? What was he after?

The unknown was what truly made him uncomfortable.

He didn’t like not knowing.

But just as he was about to probe further, John gave him a carefree grin and pointed ahead.

"Hold on tight—we’re about to reach Dreamy Sky City."

A faint vibration rippled beneath their feet, the movement of the spirit beast carriage shifting as it adjusted course. The landscape ahead shimmered under the afternoon light, and in the distance, the city walls of Dreamy Sky City came into view—tall, majestic, and eerily quiet.

The Crown Prince exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening briefly on the edge of the seat.

There’s no point overthinking... not yet. He had learned when to bide his time.

For now, he would observe.

And when the time was right—he would strike.

He tilted his head upward, his gaze narrowing toward the turbulent sky above. A cold glint shimmered in his sharp eyes as his aura flared with restrained fury.

"How dare those lowly Valthorn dogs attack my Blue Hammer Kingdom..."

His voice was low, but laced with venom.

"Are they tired of living?"

A storm brewed in his heart, one that mirrored the dark clouds swirling above the mountain pass. Purple lightning slashed across the heavens like divine dragons, illuminating the narrow path ahead in violent flashes of light. The wind howled like a beast, whipping across the jagged rocks and old stone as if heralding the arrival of something ominous.

The Blue Hammer Crown Prince clenched his fists, his royal blue robe fluttering in the fierce wind. Though he seethed at the audacity of the Valthorn Kingdom, there was an almost twisted satisfaction flickering in his chest.

Perfect... now I have something to vent all this damn frustration on.

His eyes burned with anticipation, and a cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Just wait until I reach Dreamy Sky City... I’ll make you regret being born."

Far below the roaring clouds, a sleek carriage carved through the winding path at terrifying speed, drawn by two spirit-bred horses, their hooves pounding against the earth in rhythmic thunder. They were purebred chargers, their coats shimmering with faint silver runes that danced under the moonlight.

Ahead of them, the horizon slowly gave shape to a grand city—tall walls, elegant spires, and looming towers—Dreamy Sky City stood proud, silent... and unaware of the storm rushing toward it.

---

Meanwhile...

Inside the depths of the Dreamy Sky family’s ancestral treasury, Damien stood alone, surrounded by opulence few could even dream of.

Piles of glittering gemstones were stacked high against the ancient walls. Gold artifacts shimmered under soft spiritual lighting. Mana stones—glowing with an ethereal luster—lay in mountainous heaps, radiating pure energy into the air like soft whispers of power.

But Damien’s eyes swept past the dazzling treasure with barely a glance.

His gaze was focused, intent, searching.

"As expected of the treasury of a millennium-old clan," he muttered under his breath, his voice echoing softly in the vast chamber. "But how the hell am I going to carry all of this back to Valthorn City?"

Though the fortune laid before him would cause kingdoms to go to war, Damien was uninterested in greed. He was here for something else—something far more precious.

He moved quickly, weaving through golden pillars and enchanted relics, his senses reaching outward.

And then—he felt it.

A flicker of heat and A hint of power, pulsing gently like a heartbeat beneath stone and silence.

His eyes lit up.

"I finally found you."

He followed the source with swift, confident steps until he stood before a solitary golden pedestal. Resting atop it was a black box—plain in appearance, but exuding a quiet, heavy presence that pulled the air taut around it.

Without hesitation, Damien reached forward and forced the box open with a click.

A faint crimson glow escaped as the lid rose.

Immediately, a translucent window appeared before his eyes:

[Fire Essence x10]

His assumptions were correct—it was exactly what he had come for.

And yet...

Instead of relief or joy, a sharp frown settled over Damien’s face.

His brows furrowed slightly, his fingers tightening along the edge of the box.

"...Only ten?"

The number wasn’t the problem. It was the feeling—that this was only the beginning. Something about this place... felt unfinished.

And deep in his gut, Damien knew—something bigger was coming.

He had been hoping—no, counting—on finding Time Essence Crystals.

But it seemed luck had other plans.

Still, something was better than nothing.

According to the fatty, those Fire Essence Crystals were used to activate the defense system—Hellfire Flame. And every noble family was required to keep a few in reserve.

Damien’s expression remained unreadable as he swept his gaze across the overflowing vault. Mountains of precious stones, chests bursting with gold, ancient scrolls, and rare alchemical reagents glittered all around him. Yet despite all the glamor, it still lacked... weight.

The kind of weight an ancient family should carry.

This was wealth, yes—but not legacy.

"There has to be more," he muttered, almost to himself.

At that moment, Accelerated Cognition quietly activated.

His pupils shrank slightly as the world slowed around him. Every corner, every line of stone, every flicker of mana in the air began to dance in his vision like moving equations.

He combed through every shelf and corridor, scrutinized every curve in the architecture. But after nearly half an hour, he had seen it all—and still found nothing resembling a hidden cache.

A faint frown tugged at the corners of his lips.

"There has to be a secret compartment..."

He paused, standing still in the center of the hall. The treasury was immaculate—white arched walls flowed seamlessly into the ceiling, from which soft golden lamps bathed the space in warm light. The way the illumination merged with the jewel-toned reflections around him gave the entire chamber a majestic ambiance.

But something felt... off.

"Hmmm?"

Damien turned his gaze to one particular stretch of wall. At first glance, it looked no different from the others—white, polished, slightly curved. But then his trained senses caught it.

The mana flow here was... chaotic.

As if something powerful had recently disturbed it, leaving a faint ripple across the surroundings.

His eyes sharpened.

"What is this?" he whispered, stepping closer.

His hand reached out, pressing lightly against the wall as he walked its length, fingers gliding along the surface like a blind man reading braille.

Smooth... smooth...

Then, suddenly—rough.

The texture changed abruptly from sleek and creamy to coarse, grainy wood—weathered, worn down by age and constant use.

A spark flashed in Damien’s eyes.

"Found it."

Without hesitation, he applied light pressure.

Click.

A sharp metallic sound followed—a mechanism unlocking.

A deep, grinding noise echoed as a section of the wall began to part, slowly sliding to the sides like a pair of ancient curtains revealing a hidden stage.

Dust spilled out from the newly opened seam. Faint, cool air swept over him from the shadowed corridor beyond.

Damien’s smirk returned.

"I knew it..."

And without another word, he stepped forward into the darkness.

Tap! Tap!

Each of Damien’s footsteps echoed through the narrow passage, and with every step forward, the embedded lamps in the walls flared to life—one by one—casting a pale, cold glow across the space ahead.

The illumination revealed a small, unadorned chamber at the end of the corridor.

As Damien stepped inside, he paused.

A look of mild surprise flickered across his face.

The contrast was stark—almost unsettling.

Outside, the Dreamy Sky Family’s treasury had been the very definition of opulence: gilded walls, ornate carvings, mountain-sized piles of jewels, and a ceiling that radiated warmth and grandeur.

But here... here was the opposite.

A single wooden table stood in the center of the room. Faded scrolls were piled carelessly atop it. The walls were made of plain stone, chipped in places, with no carvings or decoration. A single lantern hung above—sputtering weakly, as if struggling to stay alive.

No velvet curtains. No golden chests. No mana crystal chandeliers.

Nothing.

Damien narrowed his eyes.

The room was so simple it felt deliberate.

As if whoever built it wanted it to appear worthless.

His gaze swept across every corner, every crack in the wall, every seemingly useless trinket on the shelf.

"This doesn’t belong in a noble treasury," Damien muttered, voice low.