Chapter 16: The Return
The void space hung in a breathless hush. The Void Giant—once a king of roaring tempests and devoured stars—stood motionless, its obsidian hide trembling faintly as if the void itself recoiled from what stirred before it. "Damon's cocoon" . The massive creature dared not speak, dared not even *breathe*, its molten-gold eyes fixed on the wooden husk that pulsed like a dying sun. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, glowing with a light that seared the darkness. The air thickened with spiritual energy so pure it *burned*—not the stagnant miasma of the void, but something primordial, alive. The Giant's throat rumbled, a subsonic hum of awe. *This energy… it does not belong here.*
Then—**it happened**.
The cocoon did not shatter. It *bloomed*.
Wooden tendrils unfurled like the petals of some celestial lotus, each movement slow, deliberate, *sacred*. And there he stood—Damon, reborn. His body glowed with an inner radiance, veins lit like rivers of liquid starlight. The remnants of his clothing dissolved into ash, leaving his skin shimmering with residue from the cocoon's nectar—a substance so potent its very *scent* made the Void Giant's ancient bones ache with longing. Damon swept his hand through his hair, droplets of nectar cascading to the barren ground. **One drop struck the earth with a sound like a crystal chime—a single, resonant note that hummed through the void, as if the universe itself had plucked a string. Where they fell, life erupted—a riot of vines, flowers, and gnarled trees exploding from the dead soil, their roots cracking stone like thunder.
"My eyes have seen someone great," boomed the Void Giant, its voice trembling with a reverence it had forgotten it could feel. The words echoed through the void, shaking the fabric of that dead realm. "My heart has felt conquered, and my rage has been quenched. My master is awakening… and I crave to follow him in his path. *MY MASTER!*" Its final roar split the silence, a vow etched into eternity.
Damon turned, his gaze sharpening as if noticing the Giant for the first time. Naked, dripping with power, he seemed less a man and more a force—a storm given flesh. The Giant dropped to one knee, its colossal frame shaking the earth. *This was no mere conqueror.* This was the herald of an era.
But Damon's attention shifted. Velma lay crumpled nearby, her breath shallow, her skin pale as moonlit snow. He knelt beside her, his earlier ferocity softening. A single finger brushed her cheek— a touch that made her lashes flutter, though her eyes remained closed. A faint sigh escaped her lips, almost imperceptible, as if her soul recognized him even in the depths of unconsciousness. The sickly gray tinge to her skin warmed slightly, like dawn bleeding into night, and the faintest crease formed between her brows—not pain, but the ghost of a struggle, as though she were dreaming of clawing her way back to him.**
"What's wrong with her?" Damon's voice was low, dangerous, the question a blade poised to strike.
The Willow rustled, its voice a chorus of whispers. *"I… implanted a seed in her core. To stabilize her Seven Poison Body. To give her… control."*
Damon's jaw tightened, but when he spoke again, it was with a warmth that clashed with the void's chill. "You did well." He lifted Velma into his arms, her body limp but her pulse steady against his chest. **Her head lolled against his shoulder, a strand of hair sticking to the nectar on her temple, and for a heartbeat, her lips parted—a silent word, a name half-formed.** Then, to the Willow: "From this moment, you shall bear the name *Vivi*. A guardian of balance. A weaver of truths."
The Willow shuddered, its bark glowing faintly—*a name, a purpose, a soul*.
Damon turned next to the Void Giant, who still knelt, head bowed. "You," he said, and the word carried the weight of a decree. "This void is yours to guard. Your claws will be its shield, your roar its law. And you… shall be called *Tantatos*."
The Giant's eyes blazed. *Tantatos*—a name that tasted of forgotten wars and newborn constellations. It pressed its forehead to the ground, the gesture raw with fealty. **"The honor… is *mine*,"** it growled, the sound like mountains grinding to dust.
Damon nodded. Then, without ceremony, he tore a rift in the void—a jagged wound of light—and stepped through, Velma cradled against him.
---
**Back in the Chamber**
Damon laid Velma gently on his bed, the silken sheets pooling around her like a halo. Her breathing was steady now, her color returning, but her unconscious state left her vulnerable. He sat beside her, his gaze lingering on her face—sharp cheekbones, lips slightly parted, and a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. **The tear glinted like liquid mercury, Damon paused, his thumb hovering over it. *Was it pain? Regret?* Or the poison in her veins weeping for what she might become?** A woman who could kill empires… or save them.
Before he could ponder further, the air in the room shifted. The doors to his chamber burst open, and three figures strode in with an air of arrogance that grated against the sanctity of the moment. The Heavenly Demon disciples—two men and one woman—had arrived. Their eyes immediately fell on Velma, lying defenseless in Damon's bed, and their expressions twisted with outrage.
"You dare lay hands on Lady Velma?" the lead disciple snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. He was tall, with sharp features and a gaze that burned with indignation. *"Do you have any idea who she is? Who *we* are?"
The female disciple stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. **"This is an insult to the Heavenly Demon Sect! Release her at once, or face the consequences!"**
Damon didn't move. He simply turned his head, his Heavenly Wheel Eyes glowing faintly as he regarded them with a calm that was more terrifying than any outburst. "Do you know where you made a mistake?" he asked, his voice low and measured. "It was when you entered my room with no caution, no respect."
The lead disciple scoffed, his arrogance blinding him to the danger. "Respect? For a child like you? Don't make me laugh!" He lunged forward, his hand outstretched to grab Damon.
But he never made it.
Damon moved faster than the eye could follow. His palm pressed against the disciple's chest, and with a single word—**"Doom."**—the man was sent flying. His body crashed into the far wall with a thunderous impact, the stone cracking under the force. He slumped to the ground, groaning in pain, his arrogance shattered.
The other two disciples froze, their bravado evaporating in an instant. The pressure in the room was suffocating, and they realized too late that they had underestimated the young man before them.
The Void Clan's maids and butlers, who had followed the disciples into the room, dropped to their knees, bowing on all fours. "Young Master, please spare them!" they begged, their voices trembling.
Damon's gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained firm. "Don't worry. You may go now. But these three will stay."
The maids and butlers hesitated, then retreated, leaving the disciples at Damon's mercy. The remaining disciples fell to their knees, their heads pressed to the ground. "Please, Young Lord of the Void Clan, we are deeply sorry!" they pleaded, their voices cracking under the weight of their fear.
Damon regarded them coldly, the glow of his Heavenly Wheel Eyes dimming slightly. "Today is a happy occasion, so I will forgive you. But next time, I will not be so forgiving."
The disciples bowed lower, their relief palpable but their fear still lingering. They couldn't comprehend how someone so young could wield such overwhelming power.
As they scrambled to their feet and fled, Damon turned back to Velma. Her tear had dried, and her expression was peaceful now, as if his presence had calmed the storm within her.
"This… is *exciting*," he murmured, his laughter a dark, thrilling sound. Outside the window, the first stars of a new age began to burn.