The Reckoning of Madness
The scene was one of serene beauty before chaos erupted. Damon stood on the balcony of the inn, his white robe billowing gently in the wind, the fabric catching the golden hues of the setting sun. The air was filled with the laughter of children playing in the cobblestone streets below, their voices mingling with the distant hum of merchants closing their stalls for the day. The inn itself was a quaint, rustic structure, its wooden beams weathered by time, its windows glowing warmly with the light of hearth fires. Damon sipped his wine, the rich crimson liquid swirling in his glass, his sharp eyes scanning the peaceful town with a detached amusement. The wind tousled his dark hair, and for a moment, all was calm.
But then, it came—a ripple in the air, a pressure so immense it felt as though the sky itself was bearing down.
Damon's grip on his wine glass tightened as he sensed it: the aura of two powerful figures approaching at an unimaginable speed. The tranquility shattered in an instant. The ground trembled, the air roared, and in less than ten breaths, the two men arrived. Their arrival was catastrophic. The sheer force of their speed tore through the inn like a hurricane, reducing the once-sturdy structure to splinters and rubble. The walls collapsed inward, the roof caved, and the hearth fires were snuffed out in a cloud of dust and debris. The patrons inside—merchants, travelers, and locals—were obliterated in an instant, their lives extinguished before they could even scream. The streets were no better; the children who had been playing moments before were now lifeless, their small bodies crushed under the weight of the destruction. The town was a scene of utter devastation, the air thick with the acrid smell of blood and burning wood.
Damon, however, remained untouched. He levitated above the wreckage, his white robe now stained with wine and speckled with dust. His expression, once calm and detached, had shifted. His eyes burned with a cold, seething anger, the kind that promised retribution. The two intruders stood amidst the ruins, their presence imposing.
Lin Bai scoffed, his aged but sharp gaze scanning Damon with obvious contempt. "You should be groveling for your life, boy."
Damon exhaled, glancing at the destruction below. "I was enjoying my wine," he muttered, shaking his head. Then he looked at his stained robe, his gaze darkening. "And my robe. I wore this for purity, you know?" His voice was calm, but something simmered beneath the surface—something waiting to explode.
Lin Yuri sneered. "Purity? A man like you, speaking of purity? You should be honored we've come to end you."
Damon chuckled, twirling the remnants of his wine glass between his fingers before letting it fall. "End me?" His laughter was light, amused. "Tell me, do you always announce your victories before achieving them? Or is that arrogance in your bloodline?"
Lin Bai narrowed his eyes. "You speak like a fool who does not understand the gap between us."
Damon tilted his head, his grin widening. "And you speak like a dead man who doesn't realize he's already lost."
Lin Yuri clenched his fists. "Enough. Let's kill this mad dog and be done with it."
Damon stretched out his hand. The air around him seemed to hum, and with a half-murmured command, his axe, Avalonia, materialized in his grasp. The weapon was a thing of beauty and terror, its blade gleaming with an otherworldly light. His gauntlets followed, forming seamlessly around his hands as though they were an extension of his very skin. The sight was enough to give even the seasoned Lin Bai pause.
Damon's expression turned wicked. "Shall we dance?"
Without warning, he flung Avalonia. The axe spun through the air, a deadly whirlwind of destruction.
Lin Bai, confident in his superior cultivation, raised his hand to block it. But his confidence was misplaced. The axe embedded itself deep into his shoulder blade, the impact sending a shockwave through his body. He screamed, a sound of pure agony, as blood poured from the wound. Desperate, he activated his bloodline, his skin transforming into armored scales that latched onto the axe, preventing it from being pulled free. But Damon was already moving.
Lin Yuri appeared behind him in a flash, his hands a blur as he unleashed a flurry of slashes and claws—the Mantis God Grasp. Each strike was precise, deadly, aimed to tear Damon apart.
But Damon vanished. A whisper—Void Walker—and he reappeared elsewhere, untouchable.
Lin Yuri snarled. "Damn you! Stop running and fight like a man!"
Damon reappeared in front of Lin Bai instead, yanking Avalonia free with a sickening crunch. Lin Bai staggered back, his blood spraying the ruined ground.
Damon leaned in, voice dripping with mock concern. "What's wrong? You were speaking so boldly earlier."
Lin Bai wheezed, rage and pain in his eyes. "You're insane."
Damon's grin widened. "Oh, now you're catching on."
With a flick of his wrist, he severed Lin Bai's hand. The old man's scream tore through the ruined town.
Lin Yuri lunged. "Bastard! I'll rip you apart!"
Damon sidestepped, his Void Palm redirecting Lin Bai's attack straight into Lin Yuri's chest. The younger man gasped, his own father's claws puncturing his flesh. Blood gurgled in his throat.
Damon laughed. "A father wounding his own son… How poetic."
Lin Bai's eyes were wild with fury. "I'll kill you!"
Damon tilted his head. "How, exactly? With one hand?"
Lin Yuri coughed up blood but still glared at Damon. "You… You think you're invincible, don't you?"
Damon crouched beside him, gripping his chin with bloody fingers. His smile was chilling. "Oh, no, little mantis. I just think you are pathetically weak."
Lin Yuri gasped as Damon's fingers found his pressure points—The Way of Murder. A pluck of the nerves in his shoulders, his abdomen, his knees, his neck. His body convulsed violently, his limbs jerking against his will as strength abandoned him. Every muscle burned, every tendon screamed in agony.
"N-No!" Lin Yuri choked out, his voice raw with panic. His knees buckled, but he forced himself to stand, his breath ragged, his vision swimming. He refused to fall. He couldn't fall. But his body no longer obeyed him.
Damon tilted his head, watching him with amusement, his bloody fingers flexing like a composer ready to play his next note. "Still fighting? I admire the spirit," he murmured, stepping forward. "But…"
Lin Yuri saw Damon's fingers dart toward him again—too fast—and then—AGONY.
Damon's fingers pierced straight into his chest, sinking deep past flesh and muscle, breaking through his ribs with a sickening crack. Lin Yuri's eyes went wide, blood spurting from his lips as raw pain consumed him. His entire body spasmed as he felt Damon's fingers inside him, inside his chest, worming past his bones toward his vital organs.
"AARGHHHHH!" Lin Yuri screamed. A sound that was nothing human, a primal wail of someone who had never felt this kind of pain before. His vision blurred, his mind overloaded with the sheer, unbearable violation of it.
Desperation surged through him. His trembling hands clawed at Damon's wrist, trying to pull him out, but the monster before him didn't even flinch. In a blind frenzy, Lin Yuri shoved his palm against Damon's face, trying to push him away—anything to stop this nightmare.
But Damon only laughed.
The sound was soft at first, then louder, sharper, a laugh that cracked with wicked delight. His face was smeared with Lin Yuri's blood, his sharp teeth bared in a smile that wasn't human.
"You poor thing," Damon cooed mockingly. "Does it hurt?"
Lin Yuri pushed harder, his palm pressing against Damon's cheek, his fingers trembling, shoving with everything he had left. But it was useless. Damon was immovable.
The pressure in his chest grew unbearable as Damon's fingers twisted.
"Please!" Lin Yuri sobbed, "PLEASE! I—I'll do anything! Let me go! Mercy! MERCY!"
Damon's eyes gleamed. "Mercy?" He leaned in, his voice a whisper of velvet madness. "Ah, now you understand, little mantis…"
Lin Yuri's heart pounded. He gasped for breath, sobbing, pleading. He was supposed to be a warrior of the middle kings realm—a cultivator of the great Lin Clan. But at this moment, he was nothing but prey before a predator that reveled in his suffering.
Damon's fingers dug deeper.
Lin Yuri's head snapped back as his ribcage cracked open. Torn apart. Exposing everything inside. His heart, his lungs—his very essence laid bare.
His body twitched violently, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream, his eyes rolling back. He could feel the air against his exposed insides. A sensation beyond pain, beyond reason.
Damon took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his agony. His blood-drenched fingers flexed.
"And now," Damon said, cracking his knuckles, "for my favorite part."
Lin Bai staggered back. His mind shattered as he watched his son butchered before his eyes.
"This… this is no child…" Lin Bai's voice trembled, barely above a whisper. Horror crawled through his veins. "What has Lin Feng provoked?"
Damon's head snapped toward him.
"Lin Feng?" His voice was eerily calm.
In a blink, he was before Lin Bai, his blood-soaked face inches from the old man's, his hands still dripping with his son's life.
"Good." Damon smiled, though his eyes were dead of emotion. "Where can I find the bastard you speak of?"
Lin Bai trembled. The once-mighty warrior, the proud cultivator, was reduced to a shivering wreck.
For he now stood before madness itself.