SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 70: Hugo’s Challange

"Damien...!"

Hugo’s voice rang out, strained with emotion, but Damien didn’t flinch.

His eyes, calm and resolute, remained fixed on Damien.

"My well-being is not something that you need to worry about," Hugo coldly said, his tone quiet but firm—an undercurrent of steel beneath the words. "What’s more important... is the future of the Valthorn Kingdom."

The last syllables fell like a stone in still water, sending subtle ripples through those gathered.

Hugo didn’t speak further. He didn’t need to. The implication behind his silence was crystal clear.

Everyone present felt it. That unspoken challenge. That brazen claim of worthiness.

Devrok’s eyes narrowed. The temperature in the air seemed to drop a few degrees as he took a step forward, voice cold and sharp like a drawn blade.

"Hugo, you’re going too far."

His tone, though calm, cut deep.

"Are you questioning the foresight of my royal father?"

The words carried weight. The gathered knights and soldiers behind Roan stiffened.

"He chose Damien because he saw in him what others lacked—strength, vision, and resolve. More than you. More than me. That is why he was made crown prince."

His words hit like a hammer.

For the first time, Hugo’s confident expression faltered. A flicker of frustration passed through his eyes, and a strong silence hung in the air.

Even Roan’s loyal men—battle-hardened and disciplined—couldn’t help but shift uneasily in place. Their hands tensed on their sword hilts, but they said nothing.

Hugo’s lips parted, voice softer now, though no less resolute.

"That’s not what I meant."

He glanced at Roan, seeking something—support, perhaps. Understanding. Anything.

"I’m not doubting Royal Uncle’s judgment, but..." Hugo took a breath, his jaw tightening. "The situation has changed. I’ve awakened an A-grade talent."

His voice carried pride, but also desperation—like a man clinging to the last rope of his ambition.

"Things are not the same as before."

A-grade talent.

The words struck like thunder.

Niomi’s eyes widened in surprise, her thoughts reeling. She stared at Hugo with a stunned expression, her breath catching slightly.

First Damien... then Devrok... and now Hugo?

Her heart felt uneasy.

It hadn’t been long ago when the younger generation had been plagued by failure to awaken—when even the most promising candidates had come away with nothing.

And now... out of nowhere, three true Awakeners stood before her.

Was this fate? Or something else entirely?

Devrok, too, stood silent. But it wasn’t surprise that filled him—it was a low, creeping bitterness.

A shadow passed over his face as a sharp realization took root in his chest.

He was the only one... who hadn’t awakened.

The chill of that truth settled in his bones.

Am I really that... incompetent?

He didn’t say a word, but the silence was louder than anything he could’ve voiced.

Damien, still calm, looked between them all. His face betrayed no emotion, but behind those eyes... there was contemplation.

Tension hung in the air, thick and unyielding, as if the entire world held its breath, waiting for the crown prince’s answer.

Adriana stood a few steps behind, her feline eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction as the tension between the young men reached a simmering boil. The corners of her lips curled upward, a barely concealed smirk rising with the tide of her inner thoughts.

That proud man... he must have never imagined such a day would come.

Her gaze briefly drifted beyond Damien, past the assembled soldiers, into memory.

She could still recall—vivid and raw—the day Roosevelt Valthorn coldly dismissed her. That memory hadn’t dulled with time. If anything, it had sharpened, buried deep beneath years of cultivated elegance.

You turned me away... she thought bitterly. So now watch as your chosen heir is cast into the dirt.

That day, long ago, she had sworn revenge—not through daggers or poison, but by cultivating her bloodline until it eclipsed the royal one itself.

Damien’s gaze, ever alert, briefly flickered toward her. The way her expression twisted in quiet triumph did not escape his sharpened senses.

But he said nothing.

Now wasn’t the time.

He returned his attention to the young man standing confidently in front of him—chest puffed, smile irritatingly wide.

Hugo’s expression was painted with certainty, as if he believed the entire kingdom was already his.

Damien exhaled lightly and spoke, his voice laced with cold amusement.

"So this... is the source of your confidence."

He tilted his head slightly, lips curving upward—not in kindness, but in something closer to scorn.

"Fine then. Tell me, how do you plan to challenge me?"

The weight in his voice was subtle but absolute. To him, the outcome was already decided.

Because from what Damien could sense, Hugo’s cultivation hadn’t even broken past the early stages.

He was still stuck somewhere before bone refinement—just barely tasting what it meant to be an Awakener.

Meanwhile, Damien stood at the very peak of Iron rank, every vein and bone forged under pressure, every movement infused with control and power honed through battle.

If I wanted, Damien thought quietly, Hugo wouldn’t even survive a single palm strike.

Hugo blinked—momentarily caught off guard by Damien’s casual confidence.

But the surprise faded as quickly as it came, replaced by a bold grin.

He raised his chin, voice rising with a theatrical edge.

"Cousin, let me show you something."

His eyes glinted, shining not with childish arrogance, but the manic faith of a man who believed fate had finally chosen his side.

"Let me show you why, in front of a higher-grade talent, all your little toys—your refined muscles, your polished techniques—mean nothing."

"We fight here and now."

The words echoed across the training field like a challenge etched in stone.

Gasps rippled through a few onlookers, while others stared, eyes wide, sensing that something dangerous was about to unfold.

The early morning breeze stilled.

Even the sunlight filtering down onto the grass seemed to pause, as if nature itself understood the weight of what had been spoken.

Damien didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on Hugo for a moment longer—silent, calculating, amused.

Then his lips parted just enough to let slip a small smile.

By this time, a small crowd had already begun to gather around the training grounds, drawn by the rising tension and Hugo’s bold challenge. Curious murmurs fluttered through the air like dry leaves caught in a breeze.

Their eyes soon settled on Hugo—and many of those gazes held the same unspoken thought:

Is he mad?

Muffled snickers and furrowed brows marked the crowd’s growing disbelief. They didn’t need to speak aloud to communicate their judgment. It was written across every face, carved into every furrowed brow and arched brow.

In their hearts, Damien had already ascended beyond reach. His dominance in battle, calm in chaos, and the mysterious strength he wielded had transformed him into a symbol—an immovable pillar.

To challenge that was akin to throwing pebbles at a mountain.

Hugo may not have noticed it—too wrapped up in his own momentum—but Adriana and Roan were far more observant.

And how could they not notice the subtle shift in the crowd?

Adriana’s sharp feline eyes narrowed, tracing every flicker of expression across the sea of faces. As she turned her gaze back to Damien, a subtle change washed over her—gone was the sneer of superiority, replaced by something taut and unreadable.

Solemnity. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Her pupils slightly contracted as her senses tried to probe Damien’s cultivation... and failed.

Impossible.

Her heart skipped a beat. She tried again, her spiritual sense extending like fine threads of perception—but still, nothing. No fluctuation, no boundary, no pulse of spirit energy she could grasp.

There was only one explanation for this.

Damien was stronger than her.

But how? she thought, disoriented. He just awakened a week ago. This is... impossible.

Her thoughts spiraled in silent chaos, even as her expression remained composed.

Meanwhile, Hugo stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His earlier pride had solidified into something more serious. His hands clenched and unclenched as he took a low fighting stance, grounding his body with practiced ease.

Damien observed with the casual detachment of a seasoned predator watching prey act brave before the inevitable.

With a soft motion of his hand, he gestured behind without taking his eyes off Hugo.

"Niomi, Devrok—step back."

His voice was even, calm, but laced with an authority that allowed no argument.

They didn’t try.

Both Niomi and Devrok nodded and took several paces back, their expressions unreadable. They knew that in this moment, words were useless. Damien had already decided.

A tense hush fell over the field.

The crowd held its breath.

Then Hugo voice broke the silence, laced with a flicker of dark amusement.

"Cousin, let me warn you beforehand—fists and swords don’t differentiate between friend and foe."

"Injury in battle... is inevitable."

The corners of Damien mouth twitched into a wider smile.

Not a warm one.

It was the smile of someone who’d seen what real combat looked like. It carried the weight of bloodshed, the taste of war.

And now, he was curious—what gave Hugo all this confidence?

Hugo inhaled deeply. Then, yellow sparks sizzled into life around his arms, flickering like playful fireflies before gathering into sharper arcs.

The electricity crackled with untamed energy, wrapping around him in jagged pulses.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Lord Hugo awakened an elemental talent!"

"That’s... so rare!"

"Lighting affinity—his chances must’ve been less than one in a thousand..."

Excitement surged like wildfire among the onlookers. Eyes that once doubted now blinked with surprise.

Maybe they were in for a surprise.

Hugo stood taller, basking in their awe. He turned, expecting to see shock mirrored on Damien’s face.

Instead, what greeted him was silence—and a pair of eyes colder than still water.

That flicker of smugness in Hugo’s grin faltered.

There was no surprise. No fear.

If anything, Damien’s gaze had only grown more distant... and far more dangerous.

A chill slid down Hugo’s spine, but he brushed it aside.

He chalked it up to bravado—just the final bluff of a man who knew he was about to lose.

"Well then, let’s teach you a lesson today, cousin," he muttered under his breath.

With a flash of movement, Hugo sprang forward.

In a burst of electric light, he vanished from his spot—leaving behind only a singed arc of yellowish aura on the ground.

"So fast!" Devrok muttered, eyes widening in shock.

To him, it was as if Hugo had teleported.

One instant, the young man had been ten feet away—then in the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Damien, fist already cocked back, lightning dancing across his knuckles.

The wind surged from his movement.

The ground trembled faintly.

And then, just as his strike descended—everything slowed.

Damien hadn’t moved yet.

But his eyes...

They were calm.

Far too calm.