**Chapter 2: Explosive Strength**
Damon stood before the mirror, anticipation coursing through him as he prepared for his awakening ceremony—an event of great significance that marked the transition of children into their tenth year, unveiling the essence of their bloodline. Despite being only ten, he bore the stature and presence of a fifteen-year-old, an intriguing combination that only added to his eagerness to meet others of his age.
"Emily, we must depart at once!" he called out, his voice echoing with urgency as he dashed toward his sister's room.
In response, a slipper sailed through the air, narrowly missing him. "Can't you respect a woman's privacy?" Emily retorted, her voice laced with playful indignation. For a twenty-year-old, she exhibited an extraordinary strength, a manifestation of her unique ability to perceive the myriad creatures of the abyss and summon them at will, all bound to heed her commands. Damon chuckled softly, a warm appreciation swelling within him for the remarkable quirks of his family.
"What has my handsome devil in such high spirits?" Dora, his mother, inquired with a bright smile as she approached, gesturing for him to sit so she could deftly tie his long black hair into place.
"Just remember not to cause too much trouble for your sister," she added with a note of maternal concern.
"Worry not, Mama; your son couldn't harm a fly," he assured her, his confidence unwavering, even as the household staff busied themselves, bracing for any potential chaos.
"I wish you would act in accordance with your claims," Emily interjected as she entered the room, her beauty radiant as ever. Together, they prepared to leave the manor, their grandfather, Thomas, offering them well wishes before tending to a herd of beasts that required his attention. After exchanging farewells, they set off toward the demon beast shelter, where they encountered a creature known as the Mist Eater—an enigmatic being that resembled a raven, renowned for its extraordinary escape skills.
As they pressed onward, Damon caught sight of his father observing from the battle room. A subtle nod from him served as a silent assurance, a bond of understanding that transcended words.
"Damon, why is it that I always sense an overwhelming confidence emanating from you, as if no challenge could ever daunt you? You could have easily dodged the slipper I threw, yet you chose to take it head-on. Why is that?" Emily queried, her curiosity piqued.
Damon turned to face her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't you have more pressing matters to attend to than delving into my secrets?" With that, he dismissed her, turning his gaze forward, his thoughts turning inward.
As the wind tousled his hair, Damon closed his eyes, centering himself amidst the surge of energy coursing through his body. He was a vessel overflowing with power, and the need to release it weighed heavily upon him. A smile, both fierce and unsettling, spread across his face, an aura exuding from him that sent shivers down Emily's spine. She quickly averted her gaze, though a lingering sense of unease remained.
"What do you want?" Damon asked, glancing back at her.
"Nothing!" she replied, folding her arms defensively, yet she could not shake the feeling that something was amiss with her younger brother. "Damon, let's take a break. We're very close to Martlock, and we need to prepare."
She descended swiftly, igniting a small fire and producing meat from her storage pouch. "I'll make us something to eat. Don't worry about the scent attracting demonic beasts; I have it covered," she assured him, her eyes scanning his demeanor for any signs of distress, but he remained composed.
"Thanks, but I'm heading into the forest to play. Don't come looking for me, and keep those creatures away," he warned, his tone firm as he leaped into the depths of the woods, disappearing from sight.
"Ugh, that brat is insufferable," Emily muttered, but Damon was already gone. Damon was already At the peak of the rookie realm, he craved the thrill that would push him beyond his limits. As he ran, he resembled a wild beast, his movements a frenzied dance of raw energy. Even the rank one or two demonic beasts would find themselves no match for his fervor.
Suddenly as he leaped out into a clear space of the forest, he was instantly slammed into a tree by a Vulccan ape, a creature of immense size and ferocity also possessing the fire attribute, exuding an air of dominance of a king. Damon, unfazed, dusted off the sand from his body and glared defiantly at the beast. "Who do you think you're glaring at?" he retorted, releasing a surge of spiritual energy in a fit of rage. Yet this was no ordinary foe; the Vulccan ape was a rank four demonic beast, formidable in its own right.
"Aahh, noti alfrima!" it roared, and as if summoned by its call, a pack of vulccan apes descended from the trees, each radiating demonic energy, their laughter echoing in the air. None were below the second rank, with the king of the pack grinning malevolently at Damon.
"So fascinating, you are quite the intelligent one!" Damon thought, leaping from his position. Armed only with his bare hands, he landed deftly on one of the apes, crushing its skull with a brutal grip, a sensation both exhilarating and familiar washing over him. "Ahh, it's been far too long since I felt this!" he exclaimed, hugging himself in a moment of wild glee.
The remaining apes, initially frightened by his display, charged forward, their instincts driving them to attack. With swift precision, Damon activated a skill he had mastered in a past life—"The Art of Murder." He advanced with a calm demeanor, hands behind his back, as he faced the first ape leaping down. With a fluid motion, he plunged his hand deep into its eye socket, as he dug his hand deep reaching for the brain, an act of gruesome efficiency.
As he withdrew his hand, he pivoted to confront another, striking its head with a force that shattered its skull. Damon was relentless, dancing through the fray with an agility that bewildered the Vulccan ape. He seized four stones, launching them with unparalleled strength, piercing the heads of three apes in a single motion.
One of the third-rank beasts, second in command, caught sight of him, its eyes tracking his every movement with a mix of fury and disbelief. It leaped down, preparing to unleash a devastating blow, molten lava trailing in its wake. Yet Damon was quick, retreating ten steps as the ground erupted in a torrent of heat and smoke.
Emerging from the haze, he countered the ape's strike with a punch infused with spiritual energy, a gust of power that sent the beast staggering back, shock evident in its eyes. Fueled by anger, it lunged at him again, but Damon dashed forward, intent on striking once more.
Before he could land his blow, the king of the apes intervened, flinging Damon into the air as it surveyed the battlefield, recognizing the grievous error it had made in underestimating this young warrior. As he spun through the air, Damon flipped upside down, releasing a punch that was a tempest of spiritual energy, obliterating everything in its path.
When the dust settled, the rank five Vuccan ape was seen fleeing, its subordinates lifeless upon the ground, a testament to the explosive strength that had triumphed over them.