Damon's Ascension-Chapter 56: Frontal Assault - End

One thing was for sure: there was no point in attacking the troops anymore. By now, the British army had to be aware of his presence. However, his superior skill and the nearly invincible killing power of his Energy Flintlock would make them believe he wasn’t just a lone warrior. They might assume he was part of an elite strike force, perhaps a unit of five to twenty highly trained men, but never that he was working alone.

Damon’s knowledge of history gave him yet another advantage over the enemy. He understood the men waging this war, their personalities, and their tendencies, allowing him to anticipate their decisions with reasonable accuracy, while they knew nothing about him, forced to guess his intentions.

That was why he chose to stop here and confront the one in charge himself, because his response would likely be very thunderous if Damon decimated the troops under him even more. While death remained negligible to him, despite still being something he intended to test, there was no reason to do anything suicidal.

He would rather die in a calculated act, for example by using a mutually destructive method to finish off a tough foe, like a suicide bombing, than arrogantly walk over a piece of earth labeled ’deadly trap here’ and then die when he tripped it.

After making sure he was set, Damon swapped out the worn saber he had picked up. Nobody would suspect that it had been pristine not too long ago, but it was coated in so much blood that its edge had become a little blunt.

The fables about swords becoming demonic and colored in red after being soaked in blood were just that. More often than not, exposure to blood over a long period of time would simply have them rust, and in this case, while the sword was not yet rusted, the continuous striking against the armor of the British soldiers had created visible notches.

Most standard issue swords were not forged for the purpose of killing nearly 500 men in an hour’s worth of time, after all.

Damon’s travel toward the command tent was not long, because it was located around 3 kilometers away from his current position, necessitating a short sprint of 2 minutes at his current top speed to reach the palisades built around the camp.

Damon crouched low as he reached the wooden palisade surrounding the British Command Center. The sharpened logs stood tall, reinforced with thick ropes and iron nails, while two guards patrolled along the inside, rifles slung over their shoulders, casually scanning the surroundings.

Damon timed their movements. The moment they turned away, he launched himself upward, grabbing the edge of the wooden stakes and pulling himself over in a single motion.

His enhanced body made the climb effortless, and he landed lightly on the other side, rolling into the shadows behind a stack of supply crates.

The camp was large but orderly, rows of white tents stretching in neat lines. Supplies and large boxes of ammunition were stashed all over, giving him multiple hiding places to choose from if he wanted to edge forward. freeweɓnøvel.com

Soldiers moved about in pairs, some speaking in hushed voices, others tending to their equipment.

Damon noticed a separate, larger tent in the center, surrounded by more guards, which was where Sir Garnet and his officers would most likely be.

Establishing an itinerary, Damon moved quickly as he slipped between the tents and crates, keeping low and avoiding the open paths. As it was bright daytime, this was made infinitely harder as it wasn’t even a matter of blending in.

Damon’s complexion already set his infiltration to the hardest difficulty because any soldier who happened to spot him scurrying past would immediately know that this dark-skinned person was out of place here.

Along the way, a lone sentry stood in his path to the back area of the main tent, yawning as he leaned against a supply wagon. Damon didn’t hesitate as he stepped forward, stabbing the saber into the man’s throat from the side in a precise strike.

The soldier gurgled on blood and raised a hand weakly to his throat as his eyes bulged, but he ended up collapsing, dead without even understanding why or who. Damon deftly dragged him behind a stack of barrels, making sure the body wouldn’t be found too soon.

With this, his path was no longer obstructed as he inched to the back of the command tent. He looked around to the front in which two officers with notable rank stood outside, engaged in quiet conversation. Damon stayed hidden, listening carefully with his superior hearing ability, enhanced greatly by his recent addition to Mentality.

"...losses are unacceptable, especially against these savages." One of them muttered resentfully.

"Not to mention Parliament, even Sir Garnet will not tolerate another failure." He added with a worried snort.

"That brown-noser, McNeil, has already devised a countermeasure along with the commander." The other replied with envy.

Oh?

Damon narrowed his eyes.

As he thought, they had a plan and they seemed quite confident of it. Damon was not sure of the details, and his best guess was some kind of ambush, but the nature of the plot was not clear to him.

While he surmised the plans of his enemy, Damon circled back to where he assumed the back of the tent to be and took out the new saber, carefully slicing through the canvas just enough to slip inside.

The well-lit interior, with few shadows, revealed a large table covered in maps, markers, and written orders. A few officers stood over it, deep in discussion, while Sir Garnet sat at the head, fingers tapping against the wood.

Damon casually walked inside and immediately dashed forward with his crazy acceleration. In the same manner he took down the other platoons of 20 before they could even fire a shot, his right hand slashed out fatal blows with the saber while his left fired from his soundless Energy Flintlock.

Exactly 5 seconds after he rushed in, Damon stood upright and walked to the main desk, seating himself opposite Sir Garnet while those he killed only had time to recognize their demise, minus those reduced to ashes, of course.

"What in the name of the Lord?" Sir Garnet gasped in shock.

No matter how exemplary he was in character, witnessing something that defied all reason caught him completely off guard. It was even a miracle he wasn’t screaming and trembling with fear as Damon sat opposite him while wearing a casual smile.

"Greetings, Sir Garnet Wolseley. My name is Kakai, and you can think of me as an agent of the land, a force of nature if you will. My purpose in coming here is to tell you to return to your homeland and let your masters know of my existence." Damon greeted casually.

Sir Garnet remained silent, scanning Damon intensely in order to discern whether he was hallucinating or this was some form of trick. However, the smell of blood and his officers’ turned corpses still in the tent were not a mirage; that much the Commander could tell after his years on the battlefield.

"Well, Mr. Kakai, what exactly do you want my masters to understand by declaring your existence?" Sir Garnet asked softly. Though still struggling to grasp the situation, he was certain about one thing. His life was safe, at least for now. After all, this enigmatic being needed him alive to deliver a message.

"Your advance on this land is damaging the foundation of the Gods inhabiting this territory. The God of your western pantheon is not an enemy of ours, but your actions are directly going against his will, according to what he tells us."

Damon leaned forward, his smile not fading. "We cannot stand for you continually killing our believers who provide us with precious faith and sacrifices. My appearance here is merely a warning to you, a display of our power."

Damon got up to leave, but Sir Garnet spoke up in a calm tone, cold sweat trickling down his face. Fear gnawed at him, and he dared not risk angering this self-proclaimed deity, but he knew he had to address his concern, else he would only prolong his life to be executed in the homeland.

"They... might not believe me. Forgive me, but even I struggle to believe that you... gods exist. I fear that no matter how accurately I recount your words, actions, or presence, it will sound like nothing more than desperate excuses for failure. Is there... can you give me anything as proof of your claims?"

Damon turned to Sir Garnet with a look of amusement. "Sir Garnet, you should be aware of the consequences of not heeding my advice. We are not the ones who would suffer if your people fail to understand what is good for them. With what I’ve shown you today, what do you think would happen if I were to travel across the sea and enter your Parliament?"

Sir Garnet’s face changed greatly as his heart felt cold. With the sheer speed and inhuman movements of this demon in human skin, he could probably slaughter all the lords of the British Parliament in seconds, bringing great ruin to the empire right at its core!

Damon walked out of the tent from the front door, seeing the two officers from before who were still chatting. Upon seeing the black man come out with a smile and his hands folded behind his back, they almost thought that there was nothing wrong with this until they noticed Damon’s dressing as well as his skin tone.

"What are you- Khhk!"

Damon pierced the throats of the two in a burst of speedy movement, not bothering to cover their collapsing bodies as he sprinted at full speed towards the palisades, then leaped over their tops with ease, landing outside with a roll and continuing towards the horizon, becoming a fearsome legend for the British soldiers coming to this part of the world in the future.