Sign In To The Body Of Chaos At The Start-Chapter 81: Finally Rest?

Steam was rising in thick clouds, wrapping the private chamber in a shroud of gentle warmth and silence. It was a rare moment of peace, perhaps the first Damon had experienced since being dropped into this accursed era.

The bath was carved from a single slab of obsidian-veined marble, wide enough to fit a wyvern. Spirit-infused crystals lined its edge, humming faintly, their energies designed to soothe the soul and accelerate the body’s healing.

Warm water infused with revitalizing herbs and Aetheric minerals clung to his skin, washing away grime, blood, and lingering traces of Abyssal corruption.

Damon leaned back against the curved edge, his eyes half-lidded. He let the silence settle, allowed the warmth to reach into his bones, and for just a fleeting moment... let himself breathe.

No screams. No monsters. No Abyssal fog gnawing at his soul.

Just steam. Just silence.

And his thoughts.

"Tch," he scoffed under his breath. "Figures she’d send me into a hellscape and call it a trial."

His voice echoed softly in the chamber, rebounding off the enchanted stone like a ghost of his irritation. He scrubbed a hand through his damp hair and let it fall back against the edge with a sigh.

Talia.

That damn moon-eyed woman and her endless riddles.

’A helper will arrive,’ he muttered mentally, mimicking her tone, ’Born of flame and shadow, touched by stars, what kind of melodramatic prophecy crap is that?’

He muttered, "and that idiot old man. I meet you for the first time and you’ve already sent me off to a hellscape. I need to extort that bastard for stuff when I get back."

Damon said. He could just imagine them now, sipping starlight tea or whatever nonsense they liked, watching him suffer and joking with each-other about his pain.

"Insufferable witch and dumbass old man." Damon muttered.

He didn’t know what bothered him more, the fact that she knew exactly where to send him, or the fact that she was right.

He needed this trial. He needed this world.

A place where his powers were tested beyond the comfortable confines of the modern realm. Where he couldn’t rely on modern formation networks, supply lines, or instant teleportation services.

Back in the modern era, everything was so easy. No-one around his realm could match him, but here, the monsters brought challenges.

Here, survival meant earning every breath.

And he had survived.

But at what cost?

He leaned his head back and stared at the glowing ceiling crystals, shaped like miniature constellations.

How much time had passed in his world?

Were Artemis and Astralene still looking for him? Was his body frozen in space? Or was time flowing differently in the Primordial Era?

The uncertainty gnawed at him. But he pushed it down. There was nothing he could do about the time differential.

What he could do... was improve. And right now, he had time. Two days. That was what Syllana had promised him.

And he wasn’t going to waste them just soaking in water and sulking.

With a slight motion, he rose from the bath, conjured a light breeze to dry his skin, and pulled on a loose training robe enchanted with minor defense and soul-soothing properties.

The robe shifted around his lean, scarred frame as he stepped into the meditation alcove adjacent to the bath.

The room was circular, walled with shimmering spiritual threads that nullified outside interference. At its center, a glowing pedestal hummed with stabilized mana — a perfect platform for focused study.

Damon sat cross-legged upon it and retrieved the Law of Space Rune from his Eternal Storage Ring.

The moment he set the rune before him, the chamber darkened. Space bent around the disc like it was a black hole in miniature.

But Damon’s Eyes of Oblivion locked onto it, he didn’t flinch this time.

"Let’s see what you’re hiding now," he muttered, and pressed his left hand over the disc.

His spirit dived into the rune, like a drop into a boundless ocean of warped coordinates.

This time, he wasn’t seeking settlements or people.

This time...

He was seeking the pulls of space. Space, in its purest form, was not empty. It had shape. Curve. Flow.

It could bend, twist, fracture... and pull.

He focused on those subtle tugs, the gravimetric ripples that existed between stable and unstable points. At first, they felt like silk threads in a storm. But slowly, he began to differentiate between them.

Some threads dragged outward, those were Abyssal anchor points, corruptive nodes where monsters pooled in endless tide.

Others curved inward, gravity wells. Like inverted spikes in the fabric of reality. They were fixed points where space wanted to collapse.

Black Holes.

He saw one.

No... not just one.

Dozens.

Miniature singularities drifting across the outer warfronts like invisible reapers, consuming anything that touched them.

He even spotted a few beneath the earth, remnants of failed Void spells or collapsed dimensional gates.

His breath caught when he found something stranger.

A reverse singularity. A pushing point.

Like space was being rejected from a location, not pulled in. A forced expulsion point, the telltale signature of long-range, forced teleportation.

His mind reeled. This was ancient magic. Far, far more powerful than most of the magic in the modern era.

This was how they transported battalions across thousands of kilometers in an instant , not through gates or portals, but by bending space itself to eject matter from one coordinate and inject it into another.

A forced rupture. He scanned it deeper. The signature was faint, but it matched exactly what he’d experienced when Talia had thrown him into this era.

A fissure torn across time and space, but beneath it, something more intricate.

Coordinates. Spatial echoes. Quantum residue.

She hadn’t just thrown him randomly. She had aimed. Purposefully threw him in that exact position, so he could battle those monsters.

He let out a long breath, mind blazing with possibilities.

If he could replicate the structure, even partially, he could create short-burst ejective teleportation. Not like Blink, which displaced him in a small space, but actual long-range fold displacement.

He could bypass front lines. Avoid corrupted terrain. Escape death traps.

Or reach people who were truly lost. He’d need more time. More data. But now he knew what to look for.

Damon pulled back from the rune several hours later, sweat matting his robe, his mind buzzing with images of cosmic threads and overlapping planes.

He rose slowly and stepped back toward the bath chamber, pouring himself a cup of chilled spiritfruit water from the nearby enchanted pitcher.

"Day one," he muttered, "Not bad."

With that, Damon decided to go for a nice night of sleep.

***

Damon jolted awake.

It wasn’t sound that woke him not at first. It was something more primal. A pull, like the very fabric of the Sanctum groaned under pressure.

Then came the sounds.

Screams. Roars. Explosions.

Mana bursts cracked like thunder outside his chamber. The floor trembled beneath his feet as he sprang into motion.

His robe vanished in a pulse of dark light, replaced by his combat gear. His Eternal Storage Ring gleamed for a moment as BloodReaper shimmered into existence.

But tonight, he didn’t stop there.

"You’re really doing this the first night, huh?" he muttered coldly. His irises darkened into starless voids.

"Arise." Damon said.

The moment the words left his lips, the temperature in the room dropped. Darkness spilled from beneath his feet, not shadow from the light, but a deeper, animate darkness that coiled and surged like an ocean of ink.

And from it... they rose.

Ten. Then twenty. Then fifty.

Helmed warriors in black armor. Massive beasts with skeletal jaws. Winged assassins that phased between walls. Shadow archers whose eyes glowed with soulfire.

Damon stood among them like a sovereign returned to his court.

"Go," he said.

And the shadows moved.

They surged past him, vanishing through the walls, bleeding into cracks, tearing across stone.

Outside, Bastion Sanctum was burning.

Portions of the sky had fractured, the barrier dome splintered like broken glass. Corrupted clouds loomed as Abyssal creatures rained from the skies and erupted from newly formed spatial ruptures.

Damon hurriedly moved through the fractured corridors, and with each step, more shadows bled from him, peeling away from his back.

Everywhere he passed, Shadow Soldiers engaged the monsters.

A ten-foot Abyssal Brute roared at a fleeing group of children, only for a Shadow Lancer to drive a spectral spear through its throat and explode it in black fire.

A corrupted drake screamed as three Shadow Wyverns slammed into it from above, biting and tearing it apart midair.

Even the lesser monsters those crawling horrors that overwhelmed through numbers, were held back by Shadow Knights, forming living walls of dark steel, unflinching and merciless.

And all of them moved with one will.

His..

"Protect the civilians. Hold the breaches. Kill everything that reeks of the Abyss," Damon said aloud, his voice low, and the shadows obeyed.

As Damon stepped onto the main battlefield, a massive tentacled horror swatted three elven cultivators aside like toys.

It turned.

But it never got to scream.

Damon blurred forward, and the shadows followed. With a smooth arc of BloodReaper, now infused with Shadow Aura, he cleaved the beast in two.

The cut came not just from steel, but from space itself. Shadow devoured the core of the creature before it could regenerate.

A dozen more Abyssals rushed toward him.

Behind him, shadows swirled.

[Arise.]

He extended one hand toward the bodies of the fallen Abyssals, and they twitched.

Then, suddenly, they stood. Twisted creatures reborn in black armor, screaming in fury, now under his control.

"Fight your own kind," Damon said coldly.

They did. All across the Sanctum, the tide began to turn.

Where previously defenders had been overwhelmed, Damon’s army surged in. They fought without fear, without pain, without hesitation.

The defenders stared in awe, unsure whether this black tide was another enemy, until Damon’s aura cloaked the entire battlefield, branding the shadows as allies.

But Damon wasn’t done.

His Eyes of Oblivion scanned the battlefield. And that’s when he saw it, the truth. The monsters weren’t pouring in from outside.

They were appearing. Inside. Rifts. Portals. Warped space. He turned toward the western ward, and there it was.

A swirling spiral of violet-black energy, a corrupted spatial gate , pulsing like a heartbeat. Worse...someone was behind it.

A hooded figure, draped in Abyssal shrouds, standing just outside the rift, controlling it.

"You," Damon muttered.

A single step launched him forward. But it wasn’t just speed. It was spatial warping. One blink. Then two. Then three. He arrived just as a monstrous Abyss Beast was halfway through the gate.

He didn’t hesitate.

BloodReaper roared with dark light, and Damon slammed it into the gate.

The portal immediately began to destabilize, and the figure behind it raised a hand to stabilize the construct. Damon clenched his jaw.

"Let’s see how you handle this..."

He flared his aura, then invoked both Shadow Monarch Power and Spatial Collapse. From behind the rift, he conjured a Shadow Singularity, a gravitational point of void-fed darkness that began pulling the gate inward.

The portal began to destabilize even more violently, and the Abyssal beast inside howled and was torn apart. The gate began to tear itself open from both sides, compression and darkness at war with expansion and corruption.

~CRACK!~

The figure staggered. But Damon saw it, an Anchor behind a statue, pumping mana into the gate.

"Got you," he said.

He warped to it instantly. The Shadow Assassin beside him threw a dagger into the anchor’s rune, destabilizing it, while Damon punched his palm into the center with a focused burst of Spatial Reversal

The anchor exploded. The rift collapsed. And the hooded figure... vanished into shadow, slipping through some secondary escape spell.

Damon stepped back, breathing hard.

The Shadow Soldiers, still in full control of the field, began eradicating the remaining Abyssal beasts.

The battle was nearly over.

But Damon wasn’t happy. It was only his first day here.

And already, someone’s testing him.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢