SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 65: Prototype of storage Ring

"By the way, what is this scroll that you used now?"

Damien’s voice cut through the soft rustling of leaves as he turned toward Akira, eyes filled with curiosity. The earlier rush of events had kept his mind busy, but now that things had settled—and his treasure safely tucked away—he finally had a moment to question the mysterious artifact.

It wasn’t something he’d seen before. And considering how much he had seen, that fact alone intrigued him deeply.

Akira, hearing his question, brightened instantly.

Her chin lifted slightly, and a spark of long-lost pride returned to her weary eyes.

Finally... a chance to show off.

She let out a short, confident laugh that carried just the faintest edge of mischief, and her tone took on a grandiose flair.

"Oh, you were surprised by this little thing?" she said, tapping the scroll now hanging from her side. "It’s nothing more than a simple prototype of a storage ring."

Damien blinked.

Then frowned.

Then blinked again.

"Prototype? Wait, hold up!"

His entire demeanor shifted. The proud, confident Crown Prince who had threatened dozens of warriors into handing over their fortunes was suddenly replaced by a man on the edge of panic.

He leaned forward, eyes wide with alarm.

"Are you sure my money is going to be safe in there?"

His voice was sharp, borderline desperate, like a merchant realizing he’d dropped a bag of gold in a river.

The contrast was so absurd that Akira nearly burst into laughter.

Even Selene, who usually regarded everything with the same cool detachment, had to turn her face slightly to hide the flicker of amusement in her eyes.

This was the same young man who had stared down four Gold rankers without batting an eye—now completely undone by the thought of his wealth vanishing.

Akira sighed dramatically and raised her hands in surrender.

"Relax. It’s safe." Her voice softened a little, letting the teasing fade. "This scroll is an actual treasure, just... not perfect enough for my lady here."

She shot a pointed glance at Selene, who didn’t deny the claim. She simply crossed her arms and raised a faint, regal eyebrow as if to say, "Is settling for anything less than perfection truly an option?"

Akira rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.

If she hadn’t been so picky, we wouldn’t have been running around like beggars until now...

The scroll remained tucked safely at her side, humming faintly with spatial energy. Though crude compared to refined storage rings, it was still leagues beyond what most could craft.

Their conversation drifted for a few more minutes, filled with small questions and Akira’s gleeful technical answers, until finally, they prepared to move on.

---

Elsewhere...

Not far from the tranquil lake, hidden beneath a mossy overhang, the air was thick with tension.

A group of battered warriors—each of whom had "contributed" to the Crown Prince’s newly acquired fortune—stood in a loose circle.

Their expressions were dark.

Their pride was shattered.

And their coin pouches were very empty.

One grizzled Iron Rank warrior slammed his fist into the nearest tree, causing bark to peel off in chunks.

"We just can’t leave like this..."

His voice quivered—not from fear, but humiliation.

Another, younger man with hollow eyes spoke up, his words choked with bitterness.

"Those five hundred mana stones... that was everything. It took me months—months—of quests to save that much!"

Angry murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

The word "robbery" was tossed around. "Extortion." "Unforgivable."

Then someone muttered with a shaky breath, "I’m sure once the Blackmoon party appears, they’ll set things straight."

The name hung in the air like a lifeline.

But another warrior, older and wiser, replied in a low, grim tone.

"Are you sure?"

Silence followed.

Unspoken memories flashed through their minds—the brutal, one-sided annihilation of the Blood Fang Gang’s Gold rankers. The cold glare in Damien’s eyes as he raised Epoch Breaker.

One by one, their shoulders slumped.

Hope drained from their faces, replaced by reluctant acceptance.

They weren’t getting those mana stones back.

No saviors were coming.

And challenging that youth again?

Madness.

A long, collective sigh echoed through the forest clearing as the once-proud warriors trudged off into the shadows, their footsteps heavy with defeat.

---

Northern Gate.

Claymen stood tall at the northern gate, his eyes fixed on the ancient iron key embedded in the gate’s side. A faint glimmer of pride lit up his stern features.

Beside him stood his disciple, Red Tiger—his arms crossed, his chin slightly raised, and an arrogant glint in his eye. The youth practically radiated confidence.

And why wouldn’t he?

Just this very morning, Red Tiger had broken through to Iron Rank Stage 2. Claymen’s heart swelled at the thought. His disciple—still so young, yet already climbing the ranks—was a source of deep satisfaction. In his mind, Red Tiger might not lose out even to the famed super-geniuses of Mesarith City.

But his moment of contemplation was cut short by a rising commotion near the edge of the forest trail.

Guards stationed at the gate turned their heads, some shielding their eyes against the sunlight, others pointing toward the treeline with stunned expressions.

"Heavens, is that... the Crown Prince?"

"What is he dragging through the forest?"

A massive dust cloud trailed behind a long procession of strange creatures. The forest floor trembled faintly with each shift of weight. Dozens of Thousand Miles Toads—rare and elusive monsters known for their ability to slip through the void—were being dragged out of the woods like sacks of grain.

At the front of the strange convoy strode Damien.

He was calm, composed, and completely unfazed by the spectacle he was creating. Thick ropes, each glowing faintly with runic patterns, were tied around the legs of the toads. They twitched and hissed with restrained fury—but whatever enchantment the ropes carried had completely sealed their ability to phase into the void.

Behind Damien followed Selene and Akira, both with indifferent expressions, as if this bizarre sight wasn’t worth a second thought.

Claymen blinked, unsure if what he was seeing was real. Then he hurried forward, Red Tiger trailing behind with a frown.

"Crown Prince!" Claymen called, his voice caught somewhere between awe and exasperation. "What are these things?" He gestured at the massive toads.

Damien didn’t break stride. He simply shook his head with a sigh and asked, "Did anyone cause trouble while I was away?"

His tone was serious—much more than the question suggested.

After what he had witnessed in the forest—Silver Rankers crawling all over like locusts—his heart was heavy with concern. Just one rogue party could level parts of the city if they desired. While Damien was confident in his own strength, the thought of leaving the city exposed had caused his expression to darken.

Thankfully, nothing had happened. No explosions. No rampaging cults. Just peace.

Claymen, still trying to process the situation, suddenly caught a faint shift in Damien’s aura.

It was subtle—but unmistakable.

His spiritual presence felt deeper. Sharper. The air around him carried an undercurrent of pressure that hadn’t been there before. It felt almost like...

Silver Rank.

But Claymen shook his head immediately. Impossible. No matter how monstrous Damien’s talent was, Silver Rank wasn’t something one could achieve in a matter of days.

So he dismissed the thought—at least for now.

Damien offered no further explanations. He simply walked past them, dragging the defeated toads behind him like a man returning from an afternoon hunt. Not once did his gaze shift toward Red Tiger.

Not even a glance.

The young disciple stiffened.

How dare he ignore me?!

Red Tiger’s face turned an ugly shade of red. Rage churned beneath the surface, but he kept his expression carefully controlled. He couldn’t afford to lash out—not yet.

He clenched his fists and thought darkly:

"Hmph! Just you wait. Once the Blood Burning Festival comes, I will definitely challenge you."

The Blood Burning Festival—an annual event celebrated across the region with grandeur and revelry—had long since become a proving ground for warriors. Grudges were settled, rankings decided, and reputations forged in fire and combat.

As Damien vanished from sight, dragging his monstrous haul behind him, Red Tiger’s eyes followed his back with a burning fury.

---

The Next Day.

In the tranquil gardens of the inner compound, morning light filtered through flowering trees, casting dappled shadows over the soft grass.

Damien stood beneath a white-blossomed tree, arms crossed as he looked down at the scroll Akira held.

"Hmm. So how long will it take before I can see the first storage ring?" he asked, voice calm and measured.

Akira rubbed her chin, her eyes scanning the notes and blueprints spread before her.

After a few moments, she replied confidently, "If no accidents happen, the first storage ring should be ready by next week."

She looked proud—very proud. For a moment, she even stood a little taller, the corners of her lips curled upward.

Damien nodded, satisfied.

His gaze drifted across the courtyard, past the blooming trees and lazy breeze, until it landed on Devrok—who stood barefoot in the distance, swinging his sword in sharp, deliberate arcs. Each motion cut through the air with such intensity that a faint aura coiled around his body like smoke.

Damien watched him for a moment, then turned his gaze to the sky.

A whisper escaped his lips.

"I wonder when he will return."

It had been a week since his uncle—and the rest of his family—had vanished.

No letters.

No signs.

Just silence.

And yet... Damien could feel it in his bones.

Another accident was waiting to happen.