Chapter 10: Void Slime
Damon's smile radiated an electric energy, wild and untamed, a spark that coursed through his entire being like a tempest unleashed from the deepest abyss.
The onlookers gasped in unison, their eyes widening in raw astonishment at the impossible spectacle unfolding before them.
Whispers rippled through the cadets like wind through dry leaves.
"This audacious rogue... he is wielding Sacha's elemental lightning powers as his own," they murmured in hushed, fearful tones, voices trembling with the realization that they faced something far beyond normal genius.
Pyo, for the first time in the chaos, fully opened his eyes, revealing irises that glimmered with the ancient, majestic light of a true dragon's gaze, deep and unfathomable.
"What is it about his expressions?" he pondered silently, awe washing over him like cool waters.
"It's as if he believes... no, as if he knows... that all power and authority in existence bow inevitably to his will."
In an instant, faster than thought, Damon appeared behind a young girl among the cadets, his hands resting lightly yet possessively on her head, his chin brushing the crown of her hair with casual intimacy.
The air around them thickened with lethal intent, a palpable killing pressure that made the other cadets' hearts stutter.
"She is the wretched one," Damon declared, voice calm yet laced with cold judgment that sent chills down everyone's spine.
"Marked by undeniable potential... yet utterly lacking in insight or ferocity."
He observed her trembling frame with detached curiosity, noting how her body shook like a leaf in storm winds.
That devil is right behind me, she thought in blind panic, terror surging through her veins as Damon tugged at her hair, playful to him, terrifying to her.
The cadets watched in frozen disbelief, breaths caught in their throats.
"Let her go!" Yoroki shouted, fury igniting within him like his own infernal flames, body tensing for another charge.
"When I speak," Damon shot back without even turning, his glare slicing sideways like a void blade, exuding a palpable dominance that crushed the air itself, "you shall remain silent. Know your place, half-breed!"
The words struck Yoroki like heavenly tribulation. His knees buckled involuntarily. He crumbled to the ground, body refusing to obey his will.
"What is happening to me?" his inner voice raged in helpless fury.
"Yoroki, stand up, fight!"
Yet he found himself powerless, pinned by nothing but raw, overwhelming presence.
Gilgamesh stepped forward immediately, positioning himself protectively in front of the kneeling Yoroki, his massive frame a shield of scarred muscle and barely contained rage.
"Enough, Young Lord," he urged, voice calm yet edged with unyielding authority that had commanded battlefields for centuries.
"Release that child."
Damon, with a playful flick of his wrist that sent ripples through the air, released the girl's hair and jumped several steps backward, landing lightly as though gravity itself indulged him.
"Arara," he laughed, the sound tinged with genuine madness that danced on the edge of delight, "why so serious, everyone?"
If I had delayed even a moment longer, Damon mused silently, hands raised high as if beckoning the heavens to witness his games, he would have severed my hand without hesitation. The thought only amused him further.
"Regardless," he continued aloud, voice shifting to casual generosity, "I bring gifts, even for the very rat who has disappointed me."
From his robes, he produced a handwritten scroll, its surface inscribed with flowing characters that seemed to pulse with faint divine light. The complete "Chasing Moon Battle Series," techniques born from his own primal madness.
"It's not that I harbor hatred for that rat," he explained, confidence radiating from him like heat from a blazing sun as he approached Gilgamesh and handed over the scroll.
"But rather deep disappointment, for I know she is capable of so much more."
His gaze fixed on the trembling girl with penetrating fierceness that made her flinch.
"Lightning should never relent; it is meant to be a constant, unrelenting force... or a swift, apocalyptic surge that leaves nothing behind."
He highlighted her flaws with unflinching, brutal honesty.
"Should such a mistake occur again on the battlefield, I will claim your life myself. I refuse to grant our enemies the pleasure of such a delicious feast."
The words fell like judgment from an ancient god.
Sacha looked down, horror etched across her delicate features, tears threatening to spill.
He... he is completely insane!
Before anyone could respond or recover, Damon called out lightly to Daniella, who flinched visibly at the sound of her name, body still recovering from the earlier paralysis.
Damon, however, remained utterly unfazed.
"Your battle axe technique is truly commendable, powerful, fluid, devastating," he remarked, tapping his temple thoughtfully.
"But it lacks one crucial element, a touch of true madness."
"Madness should be your driving force, the spark that turns mere strength into something unstoppable."
"And I can assist you with that," he added with a smile that glinted with dark mischief, whispering the last words almost to himself, promise and threat intertwined.
This little devil, Gilgamesh thought, approaching Damon with measured steps, though his actions may be harsh and borderline cruel, he speaks nothing but truth. From what I have witnessed, the Young Lord excels in various battle arts, a veritable monster, a pervert of combat who devours techniques and spits out perfection.
"As you can see," Gilgamesh said aloud, gesturing to the exhausted cadets with a gentle, almost paternal smile that softened his rugged, scarred features, "these children with me are peculiar, each carrying burdens and gifts not common in pureblood lines. Yet they all possess the blood of the Void flowing through their veins."
He paused, expression turning vulnerable for a rare moment.
"I am just like them," he admitted quietly, voice rough with old pain.
"A filthy half-blood, born from union forbidden by many."
"This rugged man..." Damon thought, his impassive face hiding the flicker of understanding.
Aloud, he struck without mercy: "If you care for them so deeply, like a father guarding his unruly pups, then why aren't you rampaging through the Raksha borderlands right now, searching for your lost one, Razor?"
The words landed like a void blade to the heart.
Gilgamesh's face flushed with rage, veins throbbing, aura flaring dangerously.
"Regardless," Damon continued with a serene, knowing smile that only fueled the anger, "that child is stronger than any of you think."
Delight sparkled in his crimson eyes.
"He possesses the Void Slime bloodline, one of the rarest and most terrifying heritages in all existence. I don't know what limited things you all have witnessed, but Razor is not dead."
The declaration sent waves of shock through the group, faces paling then flushing with desperate hope.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go, Commander!" Pyo urged immediately, surging to his feet with renewed vigor, the others chiming in with fervent agreement.
"Yes, we must save him!" Yoroki supported, flames flickering back to life around his fists.
"Silence!"
Gilgamesh raised his voice like thunder, glaring down at Damon with barely restrained fury, hand resting heavily on his blade's hilt.
"Can you substantiate your claims that the child is alive?" he questioned, the words ground out through clenched teeth.
"Hahaha," Damon laughed, the sound light yet cutting.
"What would I gain by lying to you? Or do you not understand what a true Void Slime is?"
He met Gilgamesh's gaze without fear, voice turning lecturing.
"Allow me to enlighten you fools. According to ancient records lost to most of Avalonia, Void Slimes are known as the great creatures of nothingness, beings who treat death as a mere plaything, regenerating from the void itself. Their skin is a distinctive pinkish-red hue, and they possess powers akin to perfect cloning and reformation from nothing."
The explanation left the crowd in profound shock, hope blooming where grief had rooted deep. Yoroki and the others felt heavy burdens lift from their shoulders, eyes shining with tears they refused to shed.
Which records does he speak of? Gilgamesh wondered in silent disbelief. In my entire three hundred years of life, battles, forbidden ruins, ancient tomes, I have never once heard of a 'Void Slime' with such properties. Yearning burned within him to ask Damon more, to delve into the mysteries this boy seemed to carry like common knowledge.
"So what are you insinuating?" Gilgamesh inquired, bewilderment replacing some of his rage.
Veins throbbed visibly on Damon's forehead, patience thinning.
"Do I need to explain everything to these fools like children?"
He exhaled sharply
"Razor should soon be returning to the Void Territory, his true nest, for full recovery and rebirth," Damon declared with absolute certainty.
The words sent fresh waves of shock and joy through the group.
Gilgamesh seized Damon by the collar in a surge of emotion, lifting him several feet off the ground, rage and desperate hope warring on his scarred face.
Damon smiled serenely, utterly unfazed.
"Tell me," he asked calmly, voice steady as ancient stone, "do you believe this is that child's first death?"
Gilgamesh froze.
"In my years of madness," Damon continued, eyes distant with memories of silence, "I have witnessed that one die nothing less than fourteen times, shattering into countless particles of dust and void essence. But each time, before those particles could fully fade into nothingness, he materialized anew from the very essence of the void itself."
His smile turned crazed yet strangely captivating, madness and wisdom intertwined.
"I pity anyone who becomes that one's enemy," Damon mused aloud, voice dropping to a whisper that carried to every ear.
"They will be pursued across lifetimes... till the end of time."
With casual strength, he forced himself free from Gilgamesh's iron grip, landing lightly.
"How did he...?" Gilgamesh wondered, staring at his empty hand in disbelief.
Damon simply turned away, waving his hand dismissively over his shoulder.
"Ah, today was such fun," he said with a bright, boyish smile that belied everything they had witnessed.
He skipped playfully toward the exit, steps light as though the brutal chaos had been mere games.
"I will return with the slime."
With those parting words, he excused himself from the training hall.
Almost immediately, the heavy, oppressive air in the room settled and lifted. The cadets collapsed onto their backs in collective exhaustion, staring at the ceiling as reality sank in.
Sacha hurriedly excused herself, fleeing the hall with face buried in her hands, tears finally spilling as the weight of Damon's judgment crushed her spirit.
"Ah, poor Sacha," Pyo remarked softly, watching his friend disappear.
His gaze returned to the now-closed door, expression sorrowful yet thoughtful.
"He may have been harsh... but I agree with the Young Lord."
Meanwhile, Daniella sat alone in silence, lost in deep thought as she hugged her massive axe close to her chest like a shield.
"Young Lord Damon," she whispered to herself, cheeks flushed a deep crimson that betrayed emotions far more complex than fear or anger.
The hall fell quiet.
But the seeds of change, and madness, had been firmly planted.