SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 71: Punishment

The world seemed to come to a halt for Damien.

The noise of the crowd, the rustle of leaves in the wind, even the faint buzz of mana in the air—everything was drowned out by silence.

A silence so thick, it pressed in on his eardrums.

Within that stillness, Damien’s mind accelerated like a storm behind a glass wall—processing information at an inhuman pace. Every neuron in his brain fired like lightning, every twitch of muscle, every arc of energy around Hugo registered in precise detail.

Before him, Hugo’s fist closed the distance with blinding speed, cloaked in tendrils of yellow lightning that crackled and hissed through the air. The young man’s brows were furrowed with concentration, eyes cool with resolve—but Damien’s gaze didn’t lock onto the fist.

It locked onto the soul behind the strike.

There it was.

Determination. Pride. A trace of bitterness.

But no killing intent.

None.

The absence of that singular emotion caused Damien to exhale silently, his breath whispering through his lips like wind escaping a storm cellar.

Thank the heavens, he thought. If there had been killing intent in those eyes... this wouldn’t have ended well for his cousin.

Far from fear, a strange calm settled in his chest—accompanied by something even more dangerous.

Amusement.

From the edge of the circle, Adriana’s voice sliced through the tense air like a knife.

"Be careful..."

Her voice wasn’t loud, but the intensity behind it made heads turn.

She had felt it too—something strange. Something deeply wrong.

It was subtle, like a scent carried on the wind, but it prickled at her skin and tugged at her instincts.

Her heart, trained and cold, skipped a beat.

Damien... What are you?

But her warning came a moment too late.

Damien’s lips had already curled into a slow, quiet smile. Not one of warmth—but of grim curiosity, edged with danger.

The fist surged closer.

And he didn’t move.

Not even a flinch.

If someone who hadn’t even begun to refine his bones could injure him, then he deserved the humiliation. He’d shave his head and go farm spiritual grains in the countryside, far from the politics and violence of this world.

He didn’t dodge.

Didn’t block.

Didn’t raise a single finger.

And yet, just as Hugo’s punch was about to land—

Damien’s eyes lit up with something fierce and twisted. A flicker of wildness, barely restrained.

His head tilted slightly as his gaze bore into Hugo’s with unnatural clarity.

Then he muttered something so low, so quiet, not even Adriana—who had been watching with sharpened senses—could hear it.

But Hugo did.

Damien’s breath was like a whisper across the storm.

"Don’t disappoint me, cousin..."

Hugo blinked.

His fist still moved.

But in that one instant, hesitation seeped into his soul like cold water beneath armor.

He didn’t know why—but something inside him screamed to stop.

In the audience, no one heard Damien’s words.

Not Adriana.

Not Roan.

Not Niomi or Dvorak.

But far above the ground, in a realm beyond physical distance, someone did.

A pair of unseen eyes observed the scene from within the folds of reality itself—quiet, ancient, curious.

And when Damien’s words left his mouth, they echoed unnaturally, rippling through space like a drop of ink into clear water.

And then, in that higher place, a voice whispered in return.

It was neither male nor female—neither amused nor bored.

Only intrigued.

"Interesting..."

The air grew colder for a heartbeat.

A breath held by the world itself.

And the lightning was still moving.

"Hehe... he can’t even react..."

Internally, Hugo grinned.

From his perspective, Damien’s dead, glassy eyes remained fixed on the empty space he’d just occupied—as if time had frozen for the boy.

He doesn’t even know I’m here yet.

There was something satisfying in watching Damien’s passive expression, utterly unaware of the fist rocketing toward his chin.

He still thinks I’m dozens of meters away.

Tch... What a fool.

"Hehe, cousin," Hugo muttered under his breath, his voice laced with disdain, "you’re just a frog in a well. Got your hands on some strange toy, and now you think you’re invincible?"

Then—

Boom!

A deafening crack split the air, like a thunderclap smashing through a still lake.

Yellow lightning erupted outward in wild, jagged arcs as Hugo’s fist collided squarely with Damien’s chin. Sparks burst in every direction, crackling like dancing spirits. The sheer force of the blow released a shockwave that surged outward from the epicenter.

A visible ripple in the air swept across the field.

Onlookers were thrown off balance as if a pressure wave had rolled over them. Hair lifted, cloaks flared, and a few gasped as static crackled over their skin.

Yet none of them could look away.

All eyes locked on the motionless figure at the center of it all—Damien.

He stood utterly still.

Unmoved.

Unscathed.

Not even a speck of dust on his chin.

Not a single mark.

It was as though Hugo’s explosive strike had been nothing more than a breeze brushing against a mountain.

"How... how is this possible?"

Hugo staggered back, staring at his trembling fist in disbelief. His knuckles throbbed from the force of impact—but not against Damien. It was more like he had punched a wall of steel wrapped in velvet.

His gaze shot back to Damien’s face, searching for some reaction, some hint of damage. But all he saw was the same blank, emotionless look—like Damien hadn’t even registered the attack.

A suffocating silence gripped the area.

The spectators, who had moments ago been whispering in awe and excitement, now stood rooted in place. Some didn’t even dare breathe.

Adriana’s fingers twitched slightly.

An ominous feeling scratched at her chest—raw and primal. Her instincts, honed by years of battle and discipline, whispered one thing:

Something terrible is coming.

Then Damien finally moved.

His lips parted, voice quiet, but laced with bone-chilling calm.

"Cousin... you disappointed me."

His tone carried no anger.

Only cold judgment.

"Now tell me... how would you like to be punished?"

Murmurs instantly rose from the crowd.

"Punished? What is he talking about?"

"What did Hugo do wrong?"

An arrogant-looking man watching from the back of the crowd blinked in disbelief. Red Tiger, who had just arrived at the castle to report a matter of importance, had heard about Hugo’s challenge and decided to spectate. He had expected a flashy duel.

But this?

This was... surreal.

Not just him—most of the audience stared at Damien as if he’d grown another head.

Punishment?

For what?

However, while the crowd was confused, Damien’s thoughts were painfully clear.

Hugo had wasted his time.

Worse—he had dared to challenge him during wartime conditions. To Damien, this was not just insolence—it was sabotage. Letting this kind of behavior slide would open the floodgates for every clown with a bit of power to try their luck.

So, with eyes devoid of warmth, Damien gave his cousin a simple choice.

"Break your legs and scram..." he said softly.

"...or watch me break both your limbs and toss you out like a doll."

Hugo’s reaction was immediate.

Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, he recoiled, eyes blazing.

"What did you say?!" he roared, his pride stung.

His voice cracked through the silence like a whip.

"Damien..." Roan called out, his voice thick with shock. "This is too much. It was just a duel! There’s no need to go this far!"

Even Dvorak opened his mouth, intending to speak—but no words came out.

He hesitated.

Deep down, he knew. If he’d wanted to stop this, he should have spoken before the duel even began.

Now... it was far too late.

Adriana acted swiftly.

In a blur of motion, she appeared beside Hugo, grabbing his arm with visible tension in her jaw. Without wasting a moment, she began pulling him away from the circle.

Her instincts screamed danger. Something about Damien felt off—wrong. Unnatural.

What had this boy become in just a week?

But no matter how confused or threatened she felt, she couldn’t allow her son to be humiliated like this.

As they began to withdraw, Damien’s voice cut through the retreat like the ringing of a death bell.

"Hugo can only leave this place either as a cripple..." he said slowly, each word like the tolling of iron.

"...or as a cold, dead corpse."

Gasps erupted from the crowd.

People shifted uncomfortably, some even stepped back as if fearing they might be next.

In Damien’s hand, Epoch Breaker suddenly materialized with a ripple of spiritual energy—sleek, dark, and menacing.

The air around it warped slightly, a faint hum resonating from the barrel like a slumbering predator.

And its muzzle pointed straight at Hugo’s head.

Some might say Damien’s reaction was excessive.

And... yes. By Earth’s standards, it was excessive.

But this wasn’t Earth.

This was a world where miracles were etched into the very bones of reality. Where severed limbs could be regrown with the right elixir. Where broken spines could be mended with divine herbs. Where death itself wasn’t always the end.

Pain here was just a lesson.

A warning.

A price.

In a world where miraculous medicines could give limbs back to the limbless, punishment had to be more than injury—it had to be humbling.

Hugo could’ve simply done what Damien asked. He could’ve bowed his head, accepted his mistake, broken his legs and screamed.

It would’ve been over. fгeewebnovёl.com

But no...

No, Hugo had to hold on to his pride. Had to puff up his chest like a peacock and bare his fangs like a cornered mutt. He thought this was still about a duel.

He didn’t understand.

This wasn’t a test of strength.

This was judgment.

And Damien was the executioner.