SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 64: Environmental Damages

Bang! Bang!

The deafening roar of Epoch Breaker tore through the forest, its thunderclap echoing like the wrath of a storm god.

Two beams of concentrated force screamed through the air and struck the earth with brutal finality.

A moment later—

Thud.

Something—or someone—collapsed to the ground with a dull, lifeless sound.

Then came the voice.

Calm.

Ruthless.

Unforgiving.

"This is the first warning...

Come out now, or else none of you are leaving this forest."

Damien’s voice echoed through the shattered landscape, amplified by spiritual force, reaching into every crevice of the woods, shaking the branches, sending birds scattering in panic.

The crashing of distant waves was the only reply.

Not a single warrior moved.

Not a single leaf rustled.

Only silence, thick and oppressive, blanketed the land.

Damien stood tall atop the lake’s shattered edge, Epoch Breaker still warm in his grip, his figure dark and unyielding against the dimming sky. His eyes scanned the trees like a predator whose patience was wearing thin.

And then—

Footsteps.

One after another.

From behind rocks, beneath shrubs, behind broken trees—figures began to emerge.

Dozens of warriors appeared with grim faces, their shoulders hunched and expressions tight. Every one of them wore the same look—a mix of shame and terror, as if forced out of hiding by something far greater than fear of death.

They had just witnessed four Gold rankers beheaded like cattle.

And the one who did it—stood before them, calm as ever.

Even though Damien was merely at Iron rank, none of them could bring themselves to treat him as anything less than a monster.

Watching the warriors slink out of hiding like rats caught under a lantern, Damien’s lips curled upward ever so slightly.

He chuckled to himself.

"Hands in the air. Now..."

The command came without force, but it cut through the tension like a blade.

There was a pause. Some blinked, unsure if they’d heard correctly.

Then, among them, the sharper ones—those with a stronger sense of self-preservation—raised their hands quickly, stepping forward like criminals caught red-handed.

A wave of awkward motion followed as the rest began to mimic them, hands rising one after another, a parade of surrender, all walking under the same cloud of dread.

Among them, Nora and Sora’s party members kept their faces lowered, trying to blend into the crowd, their pride crushed under the weight of the earlier confrontation.

Damien, of course, saw them.

He saw everything.

But for now—

He said nothing.

His expression remained indifferent, his aura oppressive and vast.

"Now hand over five hundred mana stones as compensation for the environmental damages you’ve caused..."

The command hit like a hammer.

Cries of disbelief immediately broke the silence.

"Five hundred?!"

"That’s too much!"

"Even if we had that kind of sum, who would carry it around in the middle of a damn forest?!"

The outrage simmered beneath the surface, but none dared shout too loudly. Even the boldest voices came in hushed tones, like whispers against a hurricane.

Damien’s gaze turned sharp.

His narrowed eyes gleamed with ice.

A biting chill swept through the clearing.

"Fine," he said, his voice now colder than a winter wind.

"If you don’t have the money... then let me turn your bodies into bags of fertilizer."

As he spoke, Epoch Breaker rose once more, aimed straight at the heart of the crowd.

Its barrel pulsed with energy, the intricate runes etched along its obsidian-black surface lighting up in sequence.

A blinding light gathered at the core, glowing brighter with each heartbeat.

Hummmmmm.

The humming deepened—a vibration in the air, like the wail of the void itself.

The warriors felt the shift instantly.

It was more than fear.

It was instinctual terror, as if some ancient predator had set its sights upon them.

Their hearts pounded in their chests.

Their souls trembled.

Some couldn’t help but drop to one knee, sweat pouring from their brows like they stood beneath a waterfall.

It felt as if death itself had descended among them.

None dared move.

And above them all stood Damien—unmoving, uncaring, his eyes locked onto the crowd with detached contempt.

Moments passed.

The air remained deathly still, every breath among the crowd shaky and restrained. Sweat dripped. Teeth clenched. No one dared to speak first—until a trembling voice finally broke the silence.

"H-Here... here are the five hundred mana stones... please... please let me go."

A pale-looking warrior stepped forward, hands shaking as he held out a bulging pouch. His knees almost buckled, but he forced himself upright, desperate to escape with his life.

That was the trigger.

The moment everyone had been waiting for—the unspoken signal that cracked the tension like lightning across dry branches.

Suddenly, voices began to rise in reluctant unison.

"Me too! I’ll pay!"

"Here, take it!"

"Just let us leave alive!"

Mana stones began appearing from every direction, clutched in white-knuckled hands, thrown into the growing pile with resigned expressions.

Damien stood at the center of it all, watching the scene unfold with a faint, nonchalant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

There was no gloating.

No joy.

Just calm detachment—as if this was the natural order of things.

Then, his cold gaze shifted.

His eyes landed on two very specific figures standing off in the distance.

"You two,

Go and collect all the mana stones for me."

The words fell like a commandment from the heavens.

The two youngsters reacted instantly—as if struck.

They flinched. Hard.

Their bodies tensed like cats whose tails had just been stomped on, eyes wide with disbelief.

But when they looked up and met Damien’s gaze—that glacial, unwavering stare—their protests withered in their throats.

They could only lower their heads and nod stiffly.

"Yes... Sir..."

Bitter expressions on their faces, they walked forward with mechanical steps, each footfall weighed down by humiliation and dread.

As they moved through the crowd, bags of mana stones were offered up one by one.

Grudgingly. Resentfully. But obediently.

The atmosphere was heavy. Even the wind seemed hesitant to blow.

One silver-rank warrior, sporting a crooked nose and an overinflated ego, clearly thought himself above the law. He sneered and muttered something under his breath as he tried to hide a portion of his pouch.

Big mistake.

Boom!

Before anyone could blink, a pulse of spiritual pressure slammed into him.

There was a flash—then a muffled, wet sound.

The man vanished.

Not a scream.

Not a chance to react.

Just a flash of light and a collapsing heap of dust and ash.

Gone.

The crowd turned silent again, every eye wide, every jaw tight. The stench of fear thickened.

No one dared breathe too loudly.

After witnessing that ruthless display, whatever little pride the remaining warriors had quickly crumbled. Any thoughts of resistance, rebellion, or trickery vanished like mist in the morning sun.

They became even more docile than before—like sheep awaiting their turn before a silent shepherd with a blade.

And at the center of it all stood Damien—calm, unmoved, his figure casting a long shadow over the trembling crowd.

Fifteen minutes later...

A radiant mountain of mana stones glimmered before Damien like a treasure hoard stolen from the heavens. The sheer volume of raw energy contained within was staggering—each stone pulsing with concentrated mana, casting waves of spiritual light that danced across the lake’s rippling surface.

Damien narrowed his eyes, estimating the haul.

"More than five thousand..."

His thoughts drifted—not with joy, but with logistics.

How the hell am I supposed to carry all this back?

He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. The wealth was thrilling, yes, but now it was a headache too.

Maybe I should’ve let them go after collecting just five hundred...

He sighed.

Around him, dozens of warriors remained rooted in place, eyes nervously flickering between him and the mountain. Though none dared speak, their collective hope was palpable—like prisoners awaiting the swing of the judge’s gavel.

Damien gave them a single glance and then nodded in quiet satisfaction.

"You can leave."

The words dropped like divine grace.

Without even a farewell, the warriors exploded into motion, scattering in every direction like terrified rabbits. Some tripped, others shoved their way through. None looked back.

Damien didn’t bother to watch them go.

His focus remained fixed on the glittering pile in front of him.

"Damn it... I really didn’t think this through..."

He clicked his tongue, then glanced over his shoulder toward Akira and Selene—his last hope.

"You two wouldn’t happen to have a something to Store this, right?"

Akira’s mouth opened slightly, then closed.

She stared at the radiant mountain, then at Damien, her brows twitching.

This wasn’t what she had expected when she agreed to escort the Crown Prince.

Not even remotely.

This... This was just daylight robbery!

Meanwhile, Selene—ice queen of reason and logic—watched with the faintest hint of amusement curling her lips. It was barely there, subtle enough to pass unnoticed... but it was there.

This Crown Prince... he’s quite the character.

Damien’s hopeful gaze lingered on them until Selene glanced at Akira and made a small, subtle eye gesture.

Akira blinked, then sighed and nodded.

Wordlessly, she reached into her leather pouch and pulled out an aged wooden scroll, covered in ancient runes that glowed faintly with dormant power.

Damien tilted his head, curious.

"What’s that?"

Akira didn’t reply.

Instead, she casually tossed the scroll over the pile of mana stones.

The moment it made contact, the scroll unfurled in midair, glowing brightly as it released an expanding net of radiant spiritual threads.

The runes shimmered—then tightened like a cocoon—sealing the entire pile within a glowing sheath of compressed space.

Damien blinked in amazement as the massive pile shrunk into a compact glowing bundle.

Then Akira, with practiced ease, caught the bundled scroll mid-air and slung it over her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"There. All packed."

Damien exhaled in relief.

"Remind me to give you a raise.

Akira rolled her eyes, but a faint smirk betrayed her amusement.

Selene, standing quietly at the side, gave Damien a long look—curious, intrigued, and perhaps... slightly entertained.

The Prince of the North was proving to be anything but boring.