SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 96: No way out

Chapter 96: No way out

"How...?"

Outwardly, John appeared calm—his robes unwrinkled, his expression placid. But inside, his mind churned like a raging storm. His legs felt slightly numb, and his heart thumped wildly against his ribcage.

Despite the composed facade, that single punch had shaken his very core.

For one terrifying moment, he genuinely believed he was going to die.

If not for his domain—that thin, invisible membrane of protection forged through years of mastering mana channels—his body would have exploded on the spot.

"If I had been a mere Golden Ranker... I would’ve been turned to paste."

John’s hands trembled slightly at the thought.

He took a shaky breath, trying to suppress the tremors inside his chest, and muttered under his breath.

"No wonder..."

It all made sense now.

No wonder the Valthorn Army had penetrated this deep into Blue Hammer Kingdom without resistance.

No wonder every scout team that tried to investigate had vanished without a trace.

With someone like this leading the charge, it was a miracle they weren’t already pounding on the capital gates.

But then... his train of thought derailed.

"Wait... expert?"

John’s pupils constricted.

He took a second, closer look at the young man standing across from him—his shirt torn, his hand still bleeding slightly from the blow.

The realization struck like a thunderclap.

"This brat... this monster... he’s not even Silver Rank?"

"Still in Iron Realm? Just iron bones?"

His face turned pale.

The world around him seemed to blur for a moment as his pride cracked. His knees almost buckled—not from pain but from the sheer absurdity of it.

A mere Iron Ranker had almost killed a Channel Forging Realm cultivator.

John staggered back half a step as the weight of the thought settled over him like a boulder.

"If this spreads... where will I even hide my face?"

"Which woman would still want to marry me?"

He bit his lip until it bled, forcing his racing thoughts to stop.

No. He couldn’t afford to spiral now.

"This isn’t about pride. I need answers."

He clenched his fists tightly.

"I must soul-search him. I have to understand how this boy—no, this demon—can generate such absurd force and speed. What secrets is he hiding?"

His eyes locked back on Damien with deadly intent.

Meanwhile, beyond the walls of the shattered palace...

---

Chaos had taken root.

The shockwave that erupted from their clash had traveled far, like an earthquake rippling through the veins of Dreamy Sky City.

The deafening explosion had shattered windows, blown apart merchant stalls, and caused buildings to sway dangerously.

The common people panicked.

Men, women, and children poured into the streets, screaming and pushing in every direction, a stampede of desperation. Shoes were trampled, carts overturned, and hundreds were crushed beneath the feet of terrified masses.

People didn’t wait for explanations—only survival mattered now.

"Run! It’s the end! The gods are angry!"

"It’s the Valthorn devils—they’ve summoned a calamity!"

The fear of the unknown spread faster than fire, devouring the city’s last semblance of calm.

And then—

Order returned.

Swift. Merciless. Unflinching.

The Valthorn Army, already stationed in key sectors, moved with ruthless precision. Commanders barked orders, and steel boots slammed against stone.

Anek, the Iron Dungeon Commander, stood at the front lines like an unmovable wall. Under his direction, escape routes were sealed, the worst chaos cordoned off, and the terrified herds funneled into safety.

Unlike kingdoms that played politics and worried about image, the Valthorn forces didn’t bother with apologies or public approval.

When you don’t have to worry about human rights violations...

Restoring order is a piece of cake.

Within minutes, what had seemed like the fall of the city turned into tense silence.

The soldiers stood tall, unbending. The citizens trembled—but they stopped moving.

Even terror could be tamed... if you applied enough steel.

Back at the heart of it all, the dust was still settling.

And Damien, battered and bloodstained, was still standing.

The dust had finally settled.

From the wreckage of the once-grand Dreamy Sky family hall, two figures emerged—Damien and John, standing amidst debris and flickering embers. The marble floor beneath their feet was cracked, smeared with soot and scorched mana residue. A deathly silence loomed in the air, broken only by the occasional falling chunk of rubble.

Damien’s body trembled slightly as muscle fibers rippled like twitching earthworms. His arms, which had been mangled just moments ago, slowly knit themselves together—torn tendons reattaching, bones reforming under the relentless drive of regeneration.

Though his mana seemed vast, almost endless, his core capacity remained limited. Each draw on his reserves left a dull, heavy fatigue behind. A kind of spiritual exhaustion that gnawed at his core like a slow poison.

More than anything, Damien felt ravenous.

His stomach churned and growled. The kind of hunger that made a man dream of roasting an entire goat by a campfire and devouring it whole. But there was no time for such fantasies.

Without warning, the air twisted around him.

The space trembled slightly before solidifying into a crushing presence—John’s domain had returned.

It wrapped around Damien like an invisible serpent, its pressure folding over him in layers. His ribs creaked. His breath caught in his throat. Even lifting a finger became an act of will.

His vision blurred.

[Acceleration EXP +46]

A cold line of blue light flashed in Damien’s mind. The system notifications kept ringing, growing more frequent. His talent was on the verge of leveling up. He could feel it—just a little more. But before that could happen...

He had to escape.

"Accelerated Movement," Damien muttered in his mind.

Instantly, a silver aura exploded around his body. A shockwave of light burst from his frame as every cell within him accelerated. His figure vanished into a streak of white lightning.

The pressure vanished.

His body erupted from the hold of the domain, but the cost was brutal—his arms turned to dust, shredded by the extreme G-force and raw energy backlash. Yet somehow, he pushed forward.

Cold winds tore through the crumbling ruins like the screech of a banshee.

Above, thunder growled—echoing like the maddened laughter of a divine being watching this struggle unfold.

Damien didn’t care.

Boom!

His fist slammed into John’s chest, air igniting at the point of impact. A dome of raw force exploded outward, sending John skidding backwards, tearing deep gouges into the marble floor.

Damien flipped in the air mid-strike, turning his fall into flight, and raised the Epoch Breaker mid-spin.

Time slowed.

Under his accelerated state, even the flow of mana particles in the air seemed sluggish. He could see it all—John’s pupils dilating, his brows rising ever so slowly in disbelief.

Damien pulled the trigger.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Hundreds of mana-charged bullets roared through the air, trailing streaks of violet flame behind them like miniature comets.

But just as they reached within a few meters of John...

They froze.

Each one suspended in the air like flies caught in amber. Then—BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!—they exploded in place, shaking the hall to its very foundations.

When the light died and the smoke faded, John still stood.

His long white robes fluttered softly in the breeze, not even a scratch on them.

Damien hovered above the ground, panting, the veins on his forehead twitching, arms slowly reforming.

But his eyes remained cold. Focused. Calculating.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

"Damn!" Damien growled, his teeth clenched as he abruptly kicked off the ground, forcing space between him and his opponent.

His boots scraped against shattered marble, a trail of dust and broken tiles left in his wake as he slid backward, eyes locked on the figure ahead.

Every strike. Every bullet. Every ounce of force he had unleashed—none of it had worked.

It was like hitting an ancient mountain with his bare fists. John was a wall, immovable and unyielding. Worse, it was as if fate itself had paired him with his perfect counter.

Damien’s chest heaved. His muscles trembled from exertion, bones barely holding together after being repeatedly shattered and restored. His soul weapon pulsed weakly in his grip, drained from constant use.

But he refused to fall.

Not now. Not after coming this far.

Not with the weight of so many lives hanging in the balance. Not with everything he had lost and everything he had become.

He would not retreat.

No... this wasn’t a battle he could walk away from.

This was do or die.

Across from him, John remained eerily still.

Like a reaper awaiting the final toll of the bell, his presence devoured the air in the room. The dust swirled around his feet, unwilling to touch him. Shadows bent unnaturally at his back, and his aura seemed to stretch for miles.

Then... the corner of his mouth rose.

A smile—not one of joy, but of certainty.

Of absolute dominion.

His voice echoed like the toll of doom itself.

"Now... accept your death."

Before Damien mind could even process these words, a force so vast and powerful hit him, what remained of his hands immediately turned into red smoke and his body instantly hit the nearby wall

Before Damien’s mind could even process those chilling words, a force more vast and terrifying than anything he’d ever felt slammed into him.

It wasn’t a strike.

It was a calamity.

An invisible pressure—dense and absolute—descended from above like a celestial hammer. The space around him cracked with a screeching wail, as if reality itself was tearing apart.

His already-injured arms, barely reformed from earlier, instantly evaporated into red mist. Flesh turned to smoke. Bone splintered, then vanished.

He didn’t even have time to scream.

BOOM!

Damien’s body shot backward like a ragdoll, the air around him parting in concentric shockwaves. His back crashed into the stone wall of the ruined hall with a thunderous impact. The force caved it in, dust and rubble exploding outward as cracks spread like spiderwebs across the entire wall.

He slumped forward, a trail of blood splattering down from his mouth as his vision flickered.

His entire body screamed in agony. The pain was excruciating—a thousand knives stabbing into every nerve, every muscle, every shattered rib.

But he didn’t black out.

Not yet.

As blood trickled down the side of his face, Damien slowly raised his head—eyes burning, chest rising and falling with the sheer will to keep going.

John hadn’t moved a step. He stood where he had always been, the aftermath of his strike reflected in his cold, unmoved gaze.

And yet... Damien was still alive.

Barely.

But alive.