33. Brain of madness
Damon Awakens
Damon's eyes fluttered open, his core humming softly in the back of his mind. He focused, feeling the duality of his powers swirling together, teetering on the edge of destruction.
But something else lingered—something faint, like a veil of madness, woven around his two cores. A barrier. The Laws of Madness had wrapped them in a protective cocoon, preventing them from collapsing into chaos or devouring one another.
"Not yet, but soon." Damon grinned, the madness in his smile all too apparent as he clenched his fist. His power was still unstable, but it was growing.
"Vivi," he called out, his voice low but commanding.
A shadow flickered beside him—his faithful companion, a manifestation of the chaos that was his closest ally.
"Send a message to Thanatos. Tell him to prepare for war."
Damon chuckled darkly as he grabbed his battle-axe, Avalonia. The weight of it felt right, as though it was meant for this moment.
"Let's go. I'm in the mood for an emperor's blood."
---
In the Demon Country – A Father's Playful Rage
Far away, in the Heavenly Demon Sect, Velma sat quietly in her chambers. The weight of the silence around her was heavy, pressing against her chest. She stared at the floor, lost in thought, her obsidian hair flowing like liquid night.
Damon.
The name echoed in her mind. He had left—but not in the way her father seemed to think. She hadn't been abandoned, no. Their bond had always been something different.
And yet, the emptiness lingered. She missed him in ways that she could not describe.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her father's voice, booming through the walls of his chamber.
"That vile child! Why hasn't he gotten here since he left the void clan?, What is he doing? Does he think he can just leave my daughter like this?" Blaire's voice was thick with irritation, but Velma could hear the playful teasing behind it.
Velma smirked to herself, knowing exactly how her father was but she was more suprised that Damon had left the void clan.
"Or has he eloped with another?!" Blaire continued, pacing back and forth, his voice rising. "I'll kill him! I swear, I'll—"
Velma shook her head, stepping out of the shadows.
"Father, relax." She crossed the threshold of the door with a confident stride. "I'll go get him. You know he's probably just busy with something important."
Blaire's expression froze, eyes wide. Then, his lips cracked into a grin, and he clapped his hands together.
"Ah, my daughter! You're going after him? Perfect, perfect! You tell him to come back here! I'll prepare the most lavish feast to welcome him." He chuckled, as if it were nothing more than a lighthearted affair.
Velma rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her heart told her everything she needed to know.
"Don't worry, Father, I'll handle it." She gave him a reassuring smile before turning to leave she was a strong woman of the Kings realm.
But before she could step out, Blaire called after her.
"Wait! Take some guards with you, at least." He hesitated, trying to hide the concern in his voice.
Velma grinned, knowing full well that her father's concern wasn't as serious as he let on. He would never admit it, but he cherished Damon as much as he did her.
But this was her mission, and her father's playful overreaction was part of the reason she couldn't help but smile as she walked out the door.
As she left the chamber, her younger sister, Tracy, couldn't hold back her frustration any longer.
"Father, you spoil her too much. What's so special about this Damon, anyway?"
Blaire's eyes twitched at the mention of Damon's name. But instead of anger, there was an odd mixture of amusement and affection.
"That kid…" Blaire shook his head, grinning. "I swear, one day he'll be the death of me, but I wouldn't change a thing."
Tracy huffed, clearly irritated, but more confused than anything. Why was he so upset over Damon?
She watched as Blaire left the room in pursuit of his Velma, his playful muttering trailing behind him.
---
Damon stood as he summoned The scrolls of purple grade , carved with the lost scriptures of the Void Clan. The words were familiar, yet foreign—fragments of a past he had never truly embraced.
But now?
Now, they would be his weapon.
Before him lay three techniques, each radiating power:
Void Barrage – A relentless assault of pure void energy, overwhelming all in its path.
Void Steps – A movement technique that bent space, allowing the user to slip between realms.
Void Mind – A technique that expanded mental capacity, sharpening reflexes beyond mortal comprehension.
He traced his fingers over the inscriptions, a slow smile forming.
"Mighty indeed."
Yet, even with all his power, mastery took time—time he did not have.
So he summoned his first law—
The Law of Shattered Insanity.
His mind fractured into countless versions of himself, each an independent entity, training within the depths of his consciousness. Within moments, they began practicing, refining, evolving.
But something was missing.
Even with his fractured minds relentlessly training, there was a gap—an imperfection he could not tolerate.
Then, an idea struck him.
If he merged Void Mind with the Law of Shattered Insanity…
His very brain could evolve.
He exhaled slowly, letting the madness coil around his mind.
"Brain of Madness."
The instant the forces intertwined, his comprehension shattered its limits. His mind expanded, his thoughts accelerating to an inhuman level. Perfected void techniques. Unrestrained insanity.
A shiver ran through his body.
Then, he laughed.
Louder.
Madder.
The mountains trembled. The skies darkened. The laws of reality twisted in protest.
"HAHAHA! I, ME THE GOD OF MADNESS, SHALL RULE !"
Then, in a single instant—
He was gone.
A blur tore across the forests and cities of Lymhrst, a specter of destruction. He moved with purpose, every step calculated, every motion refined.
Everything in his path—beast, human, warrior—was slaughtered.
Entire villages were reduced to silence before they even realized what had passed through them. Blood stained the streets, the scent of carnage thick in the air.
Survivors stood among the ruins, their bodies trembling, their voices caught in their throats.
A lone priest fell to his knees, his face ashen.
"What… was that?"
His fingers curled into the dirt, blood pooling at his feet.
"We didn't even see it."
His lips trembled as he whispered a broken prayer.
"May we never witness that again."
But deep down, in the marrow of their souls, they knew.
This was only the beginning.