SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 38: let me loosen up a little

Bang! Bang!

Epoch Breaker whined in Damien’s hands, a soft mechanical cry heralding a rain of devastation. Bullets faster than the speed of sound screamed across the battlefield, cutting through armored rats like red-hot blades through paper.

Damien stood atop the wall, a reaper bathed in the glow of mana and death, unshaken amidst the chaos. Each trigger pull unleashed a divine judgment upon the tide below, wave after wave of gleaming rats shredded into mangled heaps.

[Acceleration Exp +66]

[Acceleration Exp +78]

Prompts flickered at the edge of his vision, but he paid them no heed. His focus remained razor-sharp, a cold blade pointed at the horde.

The flow of mana within him surged in violent bursts. As soon as his reserves thinned, his Acceleration talent kicked into overdrive, yanking Amma from the atmosphere at a frantic pace. Even so, the Epoch Breaker’s hunger was monstrous, and Damien struggled to keep up, feeling the familiar drain sink into his bones.

The barrel of the weapon glowed a fierce, angry orange, spitting arcs of heated mana and flame. The scorching air slapped against the soldiers stationed atop the wall, washing over them like relentless ocean waves.

Yet none of them flinched.

Every pair of eyes remained locked on the scene before them, mouths parted in stunned disbelief.

Where Damien’s bullets landed, armored rat corpses piled in grotesque mountains. Rivers of blood soaked into the cracked dirt, the once overwhelming rat tide now slowed to a chaotic crawl. Thousands—no, tens of thousands—fell beneath his relentless assault.

If it were any other man, he would have collapsed from mana exhaustion long ago. But not Damien.

Both of his talents—Acceleration and Enhanced Recovery—worked together seamlessly, sustaining the massacre.

Time blurred. Seconds stretched into agonizing eternity.

Slowly, something shifted among the soldiers. Beyond the shock, a new emotion stirred in their eyes—an ugly, desperate greed.

"What if I had that weapon?"

The thought wormed its way into their hearts. In the minds of some of them, Damien’s terrifying might was not his own—it belonged to the weapon he wielded. They reasoned that if they, too, possessed such a tool, they could become gods of the battlefield.

But none dared move. None dared voice their envy. The difference between them and Damien felt too wide to even dream of crossing.

Meanwhile, General Claymen Maroone watched, a bitter, conflicted emotion brewing in his heart.

"Could I do the same?"

He immediately shook his head.

Even as a Silver Rank, trained for decades in warfare, he knew the truth: the devastation Damien unleashed was far beyond him. Perhaps if he went all-out, expending every last drop of mana, he could briefly mimic such power—but it would last only minutes before he crumbled.

"Wait... does that mean..."

"No... that’s not possible."

For a fleeting moment, a terrifying possibility crossed his mind—that Damien’s mana reserves might exceed his own. But he quickly discarded the thought. Such a thing was impossible. Mana reserves were strictly tied to one’s Rank, a law that none could defy.

Claymen’s gaze darkened.

Beside him, Anek—cold and silent as ever—gripped his sword tightly. A muttered whisper escaped his lips, too soft for anyone to hear, his knuckles whitening.

Could the sword achieve what the gun could?

He did not know. But watching Damien, doubt gnawed at his convictions.

---

Unaware of the growing turbulence behind him, Damien remained stoic.

His eyes, cold and merciless, locked on the battlefield ahead. Under the furious onslaught of mana bullets, the monstrous tide wavered and began to retreat, their once unstoppable momentum shattered.

Then, his voice thundered atop the wall, sharp and commanding:

"Stop gawking and move!"

The words cracked like a whip across the soldiers’ spines. Awakened from their stupor, they jolted upright, iron resolve reigniting in their hearts.

"Follow the Crown Prince—ATTACK!!"

"Obliterate these filthy beasts!!"

Their cries rose like a tidal wave, feverish and electrified. The hopeless despair that had gripped them earlier was swept away by burning determination.

With a grim smile touching his lips, Damien leapt off the wall.

A ripple of force spread from his landing, dust spiraling around him. The soldiers, now roaring with newfound courage, charged after him, their swords flashing under the dying afternoon sun.

Damien didn’t slow.

He had to close the distance. Epoch Breaker’s effective range, while devastating, was not infinite. Getting closer would maximize its killing efficiency.

He had barely taken a few strides into the field of carnage when—THUD!—a heavy impact rumbled behind him.

Without looking back, Damien caught the scene from the corner of his eye.

A familiar figure hurtled forward, cloaked in a fierce silver glow.

Claymen Maroone.

"Heheh... let me loosen up a little..." the grizzled general muttered, an old battle-lust flaring in his eyes.

In one brutal motion, Claymen’s foot slammed into the ground. The air cracked, a visible shockwave blasting outward as he propelled himself forward like a cannonball.

In the blink of an eye, he overtook Damien.

Boom!

A cluster of armored rats in his path exploded into mangled chunks of flesh and armor under a single punch.

The sheer power behind the blow caused even the reinforced earth beneath their feet to tremble.

Damien’s eyes narrowed slightly, locking onto Claymen’s retreating back.

Hmmm.

For a brief moment, a subtle fire kindled in Damien’s cold heart—not of rivalry, but of something deeper.

Claymen’s raw power was fearsome, worthy of admiration. Yet even now, Damien knew—this battle, this war—they would have to reach even higher.

Much higher.

Because this was only the beginning.

While Damien was thinking he felt a violent fluctuation in the distance.

Not wasting any more time he moved.

The whitish silver glow of acceleration enveloping his body, causing it to immediately accelerate to its limit.

Immediately Damien Body turned into a blur of white light catching up with Claymen.

The armoured rats that tried to attack him were immediately gunned down without mercy.

Just at this moment, his eyes narrowed.

A group of five to four people were surrounded by Normal than larger looking Armoured rats.