SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 35: He’s already Stage 2

Immediately, a faint glow bloomed from Damien’s palm as Accelerated Healing activated.

A collective gasp swept through the training ground like a wave of wind brushing through tall grass.

Under the stunned gazes of dozens, Rafael’s battered body began to shimmer faintly. His wounds—raw, bloody, and brutal—twitched, then knit themselves shut before their very eyes. The crushed bones straightened. Swollen flesh receded. The bruises faded into nothingness. Within moments, not even a scar remained. If not for his pallid complexion and the tattered state of his uniform, it was as if the boy had never been injured at all.

The training ground erupted into hushed murmurs.

"My god... the Crown Prince can heal?"

"What kind of power is that? Divine? Arcane?"

"Just what sort of monster has awakened...?"

All eyes turned once again toward Damien, but now their gazes carried awe and fear in equal measure. He stood tall amidst corpses and silence, his expression calm—unbothered by the blood drying at his feet or the trembling soldiers nearby.

Rafael slowly pushed himself up, still lightheaded but now stable. With shaky steps, he bowed deeply before the prince who had just saved him.

"Thank you for showing such kindness, Crown Prince Damien," he said, voice soft but resolute.

Damien met his gaze and nodded gently, the storm in his eyes momentarily giving way to a serene stillness.

"No need to thank me," he replied. "If there was anyone else here with power, I believe they would’ve done the same."

He paused, then added with quiet sincerity, "I’m more impressed by your spirit."

The warmth of his words didn’t match the violence that had just unfolded—but that contradiction was what made Damien truly terrifying. He could annihilate dozens without blinking, then turn around and speak like a kind older brother.

Damien turned toward his elder brother.

"Reward this young guard with an Armored Toad Beast Core," he declared casually, as if gifting bread.

Silence fell once again. This time, heavy and stunned.

The air turned cold as countless breaths were collectively sucked in.

The Armored Toad Beast Core—an extraordinary resource that could alter the fate of an ordinary warrior—was the dream of every soldier here. A symbol of recognition. A ladder to ascend from mediocrity. And yet, it was something granted only under strict terms: eternal servitude to the Harrier Royal Bloodline.

The mere mention of it struck like thunder.

Rafael’s eyes widened in disbelief.

A core like that?

For him?

His thoughts raced. Just a few years ago, he’d been a street urchin, filthy and desperate, begging for scraps in a crowded marketplace. It was King Roosevelt Harrier who had found him, offered him a future—placed a blade in his hand and a roof over his head.

That debt still burned inside Rafael’s chest.

And now—this?

He struggled to keep himself from shaking. The weight of the gift—of what it meant—was too much.

"This... this is too precious for someone like me," Rafael said at last, his voice trembling but firm. "I’m afraid I can’t accept it."

The words dropped like stones into a still lake.

But Damien only smiled.

"You’re calling me the Crown Prince, yet you dare to defy my words?"

It wasn’t a threat.

But the playful tone carried an edge sharp enough to bleed.

Rafael instantly lowered his head, heart thundering. "I would never."

Off to the side, Devrok stood silently, arms folded. His face was unreadable. Internally, though, he was conflicted. The core was valuable—perhaps too valuable to give away so easily.

But then again, Damien wasn’t the type to act without purpose.

So Devrok simply nodded once, accepting the decision.

Niomi remained still as ever, her expression unreadable, but her eyes flicked from Rafael to Damien and then to the headless bodies still lying in the dust.

The rest of the guards couldn’t stop staring at Rafael. He was no longer just a young guard. In that moment, he’d become something more—someone to watch, someone to remember. His name was now etched into the ranks.

Damien’s gaze then drifted toward the surviving soldiers.

The ones still alive.

The ones still trembling.

"Hmmm... now what to do with you?"

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t need to.

The sheer presence behind his words sent a chill down every spine. The soldiers looked like leaves in a thunderstorm, shivering, faces pale.

One of them—a former mercenary—began darting his eyes around. He scanned the terrain like a trapped rat searching for a hole.

He hadn’t signed up for this.

Felix, that damn general, had promised good coin. He hadn’t said anything about the Crown Prince.

His gut told him to run.

Now.

But just as he shifted his stance—

A strange mark appeared on his forehead. A dark rose etched in inky black lines, seeping tendrils of smoke.

Unseen by him, the smoke twisted and curled, slithering into his body through his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth like a malicious spirit seeking a host.

A sickening crack sounded from within as his body twisted unnaturally, his pupils dilating.

Then his lips moved, barely more than a hoarse whisper.

"The sacrifice must die..."

And with that, the man bolted straight toward Damien, a blade materializing in his hand, wild and crazed.

"DIE!"

But Damien had already raised the Epoch Breaker.

Bang!

A radiant flash exploded from the barrel. The blast of compressed mana tore through the air like a falling meteor.

Thud!

The soldier’s headless corpse collapsed at Damien’s feet.

The prince didn’t even blink.

Instead, he calmly turned, raised the strange metal spear, and fired twice more.

Bang! Bang!

Each shot found its mark.

Of the original forty soldiers, only five or six remained.

Blood dripped from their faces. Their clothes were torn and stained. They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. They didn’t even cry.

They were too afraid.

Too stunned.

Damien narrowed his eyes and looked upward.

From the bodies, wisps of black smoke began to rise, trailing into the air like incense at a shrine. His expression hardened.

"What... is this?"

He muttered the question, barely above a whisper.

For just a moment, in the swirling smoke, he thought he saw the faint image of a child’s face—smiling.

But the smile was wrong. The eyes were filled with hate.

Malice.

"Guards," Damien said, voice firm and cold. "Capture them. Throw them into the dungeon. I want answers—tonight."

The castle guards, galvanized by his authority, moved quickly and silently. The remaining soldiers didn’t resist. They couldn’t.

One by one, they were bound and dragged away.

Far away, beyond the edge of the training ground, a figure stood atop a tiled roof, arms crossed beneath flowing robes.

Amayra.

She watched everything unfold, her lips curled into an enigmatic smile.

"My my..." she whispered. "What did the little Crown Prince do to earn the wrath of the Forbidden Breath Cult?"

Outwardly, she appeared composed, even amused.

But inside?

Inside, she was rattled.

She had heard rumors—whispers that Damien had awakened. But to witness it...

The aura he released when gunning down the soldiers had been monstrous. Commanding. Unnatural.

Not the aura of someone newly awakened.

No...

"He’s already Stage 2," she murmured to herself, eyes narrowing with curiosity—and something else.

Moreover what was this strange weapon in his hand.