SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 62: Don’t bully young friend

All the tens of thousands of miles toads that had emerged were now captured.

With their abrupt disappearance beneath enchanted nets and sealing arrays, the once-chaotic lake surface gradually settled into a glassy calm. The ripples faded, the shimmering reflections of void energy dissolved, and a heavy silence briefly hung in the air—until it was shattered by an eruption of cheers and exultant voices.

"We’ve struck it rich this time!"

"Heavens, I can’t believe it! With these toads, I’ll finally clear all my debts!"

"My wife... she won’t have to dance in front of those Blood Fang Gang dogs anymore!"

That last shout was filled with rage and shame, and it drew immediate attention. Heads turned, eyes blinked.

The celebration paused for a breath, and then the silence twisted into awkwardness. Several people looked at the man as if trying to process his words.

A slow, confused glance passed through the crowd—

"Brother, why was your wife dancing in the first place?"

Even amid the victory, the absurdity of the moment couldn’t be ignored.

Laughter broke out in hushed waves. The man’s ears reddened, but he didn’t bother to explain, instead clutching the squirming sack containing his catch with renewed determination.

---

In the midst of the crowd, Damien stood apart, his frame dusted with void residue and damp with lake mist. He was clutching two massive Thousand Miles Toads, their gemstone-like skin pulsing faintly with energy.

The creatures struggled in his grip, muscles bulging and bodies thrashing, but the net in Damien’s hands flared with sharp golden runes. A fierce light pulsed from the formation embedded in the threads—paralyzing, binding, and draining.

With a half-satisfied, half-exhausted smile, Damien began dragging the two beasts toward the shore. They left deep grooves in the soft earth behind him as their claws occasionally twitched in futile resistance.

The chaos in the surroundings gradually died down as people began organizing their spoils.

It was only then that the others finally took proper notice of Damien.

Their eyes locked onto him.

A lone youth... dressed simply. His aura faint.

Iron Rank.

Murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"What is an Iron Ranker doing here?"

"Did he actually catch those two himself?"

"That net... wait, isn’t that a custom adventurer-grade formation trap?"

Suspicion sharpened their gazes, envy darkened their eyes.

The atmosphere, moments ago filled with joy and camaraderie, now shifted ever so subtly—like prey eyeing an out-of-place predator.

Some people tightened their grips on their weapons, while others whispered to each other behind cupped hands.

---

Damien, aware of the shifting air, didn’t react. He simply adjusted his grip and kept walking toward the edge of the clearing, the ground crunching beneath his boots. His eyes remained half-lidded, body relaxed—but a tension coiled beneath his skin, ready to explode at the faintest sign of hostility.

He didn’t care what they thought.

He had done what he came here to do.

And if someone wanted to make a move—

They’d better be prepared to finish it.

A heavy silence blanketed the clearing for a moment, broken only by the occasional croak of a subdued toad or the shifting feet of those too eager to speak.

Then, a middle-aged man stepped forward.

His clothes were scuffed, the lines on his face deep with fatigue and years spent struggling in the wilderness. He clutched a single subdued toad in his arms, but his eyes were fixed on Damien’s haul with undisguised greed.

He cleared his throat and said, "Hey, young man... give that toad to me. It’s too precious for someone like you."

The words weren’t loud, but they carried weight.

Immediately, several heads turned, and the atmosphere around Damien thickened like a tightening noose. Glances were exchanged. Greedy eyes gleamed. People who had once celebrated together now evaluated the worth of the youth before them—and the two radiant toads he was hauling.

Damien halted mid-step.

He turned back, calmly meeting the man’s gaze, his expression almost innocent—save for the faint curl of amusement on his lips. "You want my toad?"

He gestured with a thumb to the two luminous beasts dragging behind him, still faintly twitching under the suppressive glow of the net.

The middle-aged man scoffed and nodded sharply. "Yeah, kid. Give it up. These things are wasted on you."

Before Damien could respond, another voice interjected from the right, this one colder and more composed.

"Give those to me, kid," the speaker said—a tall, sharp-eyed man with a dagger strapped across his chest and a hunter’s ease in his movements. "And I might even escort you out of this forest. You do know how dangerous it is out here, don’t you?"

There was a murmur of agreement.

Some chuckled.

Others began circling, subtly adjusting their positions, closing the gap between themselves and Damien like wolves around wounded prey.

But Damien only smiled wider.

His eyes swept across the crowd, noting each expression, each twitch of a hand hovering near a weapon.

He tilted his head and asked in a relaxed tone, "Anyone else want to take these toads from me?"

His voice was casual, almost lazy. But his gaze—sharp, steady—sent a subtle chill crawling down a few spines.

Before anyone could answer, a pair of figures broke from the crowd.

Nora and Sora.

They moved quickly and with purpose, pushing their way toward Damien. Just behind them, their leader arrived—a man with ample hair, sun-worn skin, and a practiced calm that only came from experience and danger endured.

He let out an awkward cough, stepping forward with a forced smile. "Everyone, please don’t bully my young friend here."

The statement was lighthearted on the surface, but the undertone of warning was impossible to miss.

Damien raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t expected the trio to appear, much less come to his defense.

He was expecting another extortion.

Then His body relaxed only slightly, his mind still working through the possibilities—until a strange sensation tickled at the edge of his perception.

A voice whispered in his mind.

"Kid, if you wanna live, do as I say... or you’ll never leave this forest alive."

Damien’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

The man’s lips hadn’t moved.

It was a sound transmission—a spiritual whisper directly into his soul.

He was being threatened.

Behind the genial smile and diplomatic tone, the leader’s intention was clear: he wanted both of Damien’s toads.

The celebration had become a battlefield in disguise.

And Damien stood at its center.

As soon as Damien heard the voice in his head, he nearly burst out laughing.

The audacity.

First, they barged into what he now considered his personal territory.

Then they tried to rob him—openly, without shame or subtlety.

And now... this? A spiritual threat right to his face?

Damien’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

That’s right—to him, the entire Thousand Beast Forest was his private property. These people weren’t adventurers or cultivators. They were unwelcome trespassers meddling in things far beyond their worth.

---

At the lake’s edge...

Selene and Akira stood watching, the change in atmosphere prickling against their spiritual senses like a rising storm. Both frowned, their expressions darkening as the crowd’s greed sharpened to a dangerous edge.

Akira clenched her fists, her gaze flitting anxiously between Damien and the encircling warriors.

If these Silver rankers truly intended to act... Damien wouldn’t be able to stop them.

And that terrified her.

The key ingredient—the Thousand Miles Toads—was now within reach. The very thing they needed to forge a proper storage ring. All their effort, all their risk... it was on the edge of being stolen by brute force.

She glanced at Selene, silently pleading for her to intervene.

As if she could deal with these people.

But Selene only shook her head ever so slightly and gave a subtle gesture to continue observing. Her eyes, however, were sharp as blades.

Because the true powers present hadn’t yet made their move.

As if to answer her thoughts—

Boom.

An oppressive wave of aura surged from the forest.

Then another.

And another.

Four in total.

From four directions, the presence of terrifying powerhouses descended upon the lake like the jaws of a beast closing shut.

The Silver rankers froze, their bravado evaporating in an instant.

Then—roaring laughter echoed through the forest like rolling thunder.

"Hahahahaha... Good! Good! Very good!"

A large figure stomped onto the lake’s surface as though it were solid ground.

His thick beard clung to his blood-spattered jaw, and a wicked saber, still dripping crimson, rested on his shoulder. Wildness radiated from his every pore.

The Throat Ripper Demon of the Blood Fang Gang had arrived.

Panic erupted.

"Heavens—why is he here?!"

"I didn’t know! If I’d known, I would never have come!"

Even the confident leader of Nora and Sora’s group swallowed nervously, his face pale.

Everyone knew the Gold rankers of the Blood Fang Gang were monsters cloaked in human flesh. Cruel, ruthless, and quick to slaughter without reason. If they were displeased, they wouldn’t just take your loot—they’d leave your corpse to rot beside it.

And Throat Ripper was the worst of them all.

The water beneath his feet began to ripple with crimson, as though reacting to the malice in his presence.

"Now," the demon said with a cruel grin, "be obedient. Hand over all the toads, and scram... before I change my mind."

There was no need to ask twice.

One by one, the cultivators who had moments ago threatened Damien bowed their heads and offered up their prizes, faces tight with anger but hands obedient.

No one dared speak a word.

And strangely, most didn’t retreat far—they just watched from a distance, unwilling to leave without seeing how far this bloodstorm would go.

In the end, only one person remained standing with his toads untouched.

Damien.

He hadn’t moved.

Throat Ripper narrowed his eyes, curiosity blooming in their depths. "What’s this?" he muttered. "An insect that didn’t run?"

He stepped forward, the blood dripping from his saber hissing as it struck the water.

Damien met his gaze, completely calm. No fear. Just quiet amusement.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly walked toward the demon.

Throat Ripper chuckled darkly. "Good kid. You’ve got guts. Now hand those over—"

But before he could finish, Damien interrupted.

His voice was soft.

Clear.

Indifferent.

"Give all those toads to me, and scram."

The words echoed.

Silence fell.

Even the wind seemed to pause, unsure if it had just heard what it thought it did.

Throat Ripper’s eyes widened a fraction. The smile on his face froze.

He frowned.

He wasn’t used to hearing his own words thrown back at him—especially not by someone he’d just dismissed as an ant.

The air thickened with tension.

Even the trees at the lake’s edge seemed to hold their breath.