SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse
Chapter 98: smile of death

Chapter 98: smile of death

[Acceleration EXP 969/1000]

Just a little more.

A thread’s breadth separated Damien from the edge of breakthrough—a single breath, a final push. And then maybe, just maybe... he could flip this nightmare on its head.

And had the last laugh..

As if fate had heard his desperate wish, another notification blinked into existence before his dimming eyes.

[Acceleration EXP +12]

For a second, Damien’s lips twitched—a smile appeared, faint but unmistakable.

It was the kind of smile that shouldn’t belong on a man whose body had been mangled beyond belief.

The kind of smile that scoffed at death even as it loomed above, scythe in hand.

A smile of sheer exhilaration—mad, unyielding, and and openly defiant.

But it didn’t last.

A second later, it vanished, wiped clean by the force of a punch that could have split mountains.

Like an asteroid crashing into the earth, John’s fist slammed into Damien’s already-broken face.

There was a snap, a crack, and then—

Boom!

Damien’s entire body twisted unnaturally as it was hurled through the air like a ragdoll possessed, bits and pieces of mangled flesh flying in every direction.

The impact was so violent that his flesh split clean down the middle—exposing writhing muscle and bone beneath, regenerating in real time as if life itself was refusing to let go.

When he finally stopped moving, he was buried deep—three feet under, carved into the ground like a fallen meteorite.

Smoke rose. Dust settled.

Then came the roar.

"WHY WON’T YOU DIE?! YOU LOWLY IRON RANK!"

John’s voice thundered like a furious god.

Every tendon in his neck stood out like rope. His temples bulged with rage, and his eyes were bloodshot—wide with disbelief.

He looked less like a man and more like a beast driven past the point of reason.

His fists trembled, not from exhaustion—but from sheer, maddening frustration.

This... this was supposed to be a mission, a routine pick-up. A forgettable errand before retirement.

Instead, this damned boy—this walking corpse of an iron-ranker—was still standing.

Still smiling.

Still breathing.

The air around them trembled with killing intent.

And somewhere, deep beneath the agony and chaos, a single truth shone bright in Damien’s fractured mind:

He wasn’t finished yet.

A proud Channel Forging Realm expert had failed to kill a lowly Iron Rank.

The shame was unbearable.

Each second Damien clung to life was a stain on John’s honor—an insult too deep to ignore.

"Just die already!" John bellowed, madness creeping into every fiber of his voice.

His fists fell like hammers, again and again, reducing Damien’s face into a mangled pulp of blood and bone.

Crack.

Smash.

Splatter.

It no longer even resembled a human face—just raw meat painted red.

But then...

It grew back.

Again.

And again.

"You prince of cockroaches!" John shrieked, spittle flying from his lips. "How long can you heal yourself?!"

He was completely unhinged now, eyes wide with bloodlust, face twisted in fury, a grotesque mask of rage. His fists dripped red. His arms were soaked up to the elbows like some butcher from the deepest depths of hell.

Punch.

Laugh.

Punch again.

Damien was unrecognizable. A heap of mangled flesh regenerating again and again, like a cursed being refusing to die.

A cockroach in royal robes.

Then suddenly, John froze.

His demented grin slowly twisted into something worse—a victorious sneer.

"Heh... Hahaha... Can’t heal anymore, can you, little prince?"

He was right.

The regenerative glow had dimmed.

Where before Damien’s body stitched itself together almost immediately, now the wounds lingered—torn muscles twitched but didn’t reconnect, blood flowed but wasn’t pulled back.

Even John’s frenzied eyes noticed it.

And so did Damien.

His heart sank like a stone tossed into black water.

His mana reserves had dipped too low—his consumption far outpaced his recovery, even with his accelerated absorption talent.

No amount of willpower could change the brutal truth.

Today, he was completely, thoroughly, and utterly defeated.

There was nothing left to do.

Except—

Hope.

Hope that the next level of his acceleration talent—just a few EXP away—would change everything.

He gritted what little teeth he had left, his mind clinging to the one lifeline that hadn’t yet snapped.

[Acceleration EXP: 981 / 1000]

Nineteen more.

Just nineteen.

Yet it felt like an eternity away.

Time crawled. Seconds stretched like hours.

Five minutes passed, and each tick of the clock felt like it carried the weight of death.

Damien lay still, his breath shallow, his limbs twitching weakly.

John stood above him, eyes glowing with sick joy.

And all Damien could do... was wait.

For power.

For a miracle.

For one last chance.

The speed at which Damien’s broken body regenerated had slowed to a crawl.

Flesh that once reformed instantly now oozed sluggishly, as if even his soul was exhausted.

He lay sprawled across the ruined stone floor, barely more than a bloody heap of mangled meat. What remained of his clothing had long since been shredded by the battle’s relentless ferocity. Only a small scrap of cloth over his crotch preserved the last vestige of his dignity.

Around him, the mighty castle of the Dreamy Sky family had become nothing more than smoking rubble. Towering walls reduced to jagged skeletons of stone, sacred halls crumbled like sand beneath crashing waves.

And the blood.

So much blood.

It painted the shattered ground in a grotesque mosaic—noble blood, servant blood, soldier blood... all spilled indiscriminately.

They hadn’t even known why they were dying.

Just collateral.

Not far from the battlefield, standing atop a fractured ledge in the distance, Anek and the leader of the Iron Dungeon Stronghold watched in silence, their expressions heavy and grim.

They didn’t speak. They couldn’t.

Even breathing felt like blasphemy in the presence of such overwhelming destruction.

They stood as still as statues, eyes locked onto Damien’s twitching form.

Neither of them dared get closer—not anymore.

Even the residual shockwaves from the battle had nearly crushed them earlier. Their armor had cracked, their bones had screamed, their hearts had stuttered under the pressure.

One step closer, and death was certain.

Anek’s fists clenched by his sides. The veins on his forearms bulged. His face was pale, but his eyes were sharp, unwavering.

Focused. Watching. Hoping.

His jaw tightened as he stared at Damien’s broken body.

His thoughts mirrored the one question echoing in every Valthorn warrior’s heart:

Is this truly how it ends?

Not just for Damien—but for all of them?

Because if Damien fell... then no one would be spared.

Even the dogs of Valthorn would die a death they could only wish for.

There was no mercy in that Channel Forging Realm monster. No hesitation. No pity for the weakling like them.

If Damien died here, it wouldn’t just be the end of one man—it would be the extinction of every Valthorn soldier on Dreamy Sky soil.

A massacre was inevitable.

And so, they stood motionless.

Watching. Praying.

For a miracle that might never come.

Compared to Anek, the Iron Dungeon Stronghold leader appeared slightly more composed—almost unnaturally so.

Though the battlefield lay in ruin and the sky above seemed to mourn with rumbling clouds and distant thunder, a faint glint of optimism flickered in the man’s sharp eyes.

He didn’t know why.

There was no logic behind it.

But something deep within him—a soldier’s intuition, a fighter’s instinct—told him that Damien’s story hadn’t reached its final page.

Despite the blood. Despite the shattered bones and skin peeling off in crimson ribbons...

It wasn’t over. Not yet.

Just then, a pale-faced soldier, drenched in rain and sweat, came sprinting toward them, his legs wobbling like brittle branches.

At first, neither Anek nor the Dungeon leader acknowledged him. Their focus remained fixed on the battlefield ahead, where Damien’s mangled figure continued to twitch beneath the heel of an unstoppable force.

But then—

"The Blue Hammer main army is here!" the soldier gasped out, nearly collapsing.

Time froze.

Both leaders’ heads whipped toward the young man, their eyes locking onto his trembling form.

Then slowly, they turned to face each other, expressions darkening as the weight of those words sunk in.

The Blue Hammer Kingdom... had finally moved.

Their main force had arrived.

And they were here to kill.

Shock rippled through their gazes—two seasoned warriors who had stared down beasts, blades, and death—but what they saw now was a tide neither of them was ready to face.

Back on the battlefield...

Damien’s flickering eyes suddenly widened.

Like a spark reigniting a dead flame, a flicker of power surged through his battered body.

Then, a soft chime echoed in his mind like the final bell of salvation:

[Acceleration EXP +21]

[Acceleration Talent Level Up!]

[Acceleration Talent Level 2]

His lips trembled. A thin trail of blood dripped down the side of his face.

But despite everything—despite the broken bones, the seared flesh, the humiliation—a smile crept onto his lips.

It was faint.

But it was real.

The kind of smile only a dying man would wear when told he could live one more second.

And for Damien... one second was all he needed.