Chapter 2: Challenge
In the vast and enigmatic land of Avalonia, where mountains pierced the heavens like the spines of ancient dragons and rivers carved secrets into the earth, mystery reigned supreme. Here, no man was born ordinary. Strength alone determined destiny; weakness was a sin punished by oblivion.
From the dawn of recorded memory, all paths traced back to one legendary figure, Val Tempest, the All-Father.
Born from the primordial soil of Avalonia itself, shaped by the raw essence of Qi when the world was still young and untamed, Val appeared frail beside the titanic masquerades and primordial demons that roamed the chaos. Yet defeat was a concept alien to him. Fear never drove him to retreat.
In fury, he shattered every chain that sought to bind him. In battle, he rose again and again, claiming his rightful throne as the foremost primordial being.
During his eternal reign, Val Tempest forged the great power system, a sacred legacy for his descendants, a ladder to the pinnacle that all humans could climb if their will proved unbreakable.
First came the Body Unity Realm, the foundation where flesh was tempered into unbreakable steel, gathering raw physical strength for the long ascent.
Next, the Baptism Realm, the Leap of Faith, where senses aligned with heaven and earth, body and soul merging with the endless flow of Qi.
Then the Yomi Realm, transcending mortal limits. Practitioners here could pulverize mountains with a breath, their techniques infused with the properties of the firmament itself.
Fourth stood the Kai Realm, the Colossal Realm, where bloodlines awakened fully. No human would remain small; Val's vision burned bright.
Fifth, the Hindu Realm, Realm of Kings,where one forged a dual existence, mastering domains and spatial laws according to their attributes. Here, conquerors were born.
Finally, the Azura Realm, completion of the six sacred cycles, the third doorway to true heaven, transcending all mortal shackles.
Since the moment Damon awakened, a subtle yet unstoppable unrest had rippled through the Void Territory like venom through veins.
Within his private chambers, Damon stood before a towering mirror of polished obsidian. Black robes draped his frame, tended by two silent maids whose hands trembled faintly as they adjusted the final folds. His reflection stared back, crimson eyes gleaming with unholy clarity, beauty sharpened by madness.
Yet his mind burned with cold fury.
Dabara of Chaos… Yunku of Time…
The ancient names echoed in the depths of his soul like thunder across forgotten epochs.
A madman's smile crept across his lips, slow and savoring.
I am back.
The thrill of a realm steeped in endless war coursed through him. Even if it fractured what remained of his sanity, it filled him with glorious purpose.
With the unhurried pride of a true prince, Damon strode through the shadowed corridors of the Void Mansion. Servants and guards bowed deeply as he passed, foreheads touching cold stone, but he spared them not a glance. His steps echoed with quiet authority, each one resonating like the heartbeat of something ancient awakening.
Soon, he stood before colossal double doors carved from void-iron, tall as three men, etched with runes that pulsed faintly with suppressed power.
"My boy," a deep voice rumbled from within, warm yet edged with iron will. "Enter."
The guards swung the doors open without a word.
Damon stepped into the grand hall.
The chamber was a monument to power: vaulted ceilings lost in shadow, walls lined with weapons that had tasted the blood of legends, braziers burning with cold blue Void Flame that cast no warmth. At the far end, upon a throne of black jade, sat Old Man Thomas, flanked by twelve commanders in full battle regalia and the two current heads of the Void family.
Each commander radiated the oppressive might of the Kai Walker realm. Ten exuded their aura openly, pressure thick enough to crush lesser men. But two remained composed, their true depth hidden like abyssal trenches.
Damon's lips curled into the faintest grin.
Interesting, he thought. Is true entertainment finally possible in this realm?
Before anyone could speak, a tall figure rose sharply from his seat.
Alfie, Damon's uncle, second head of the Void family, glared with barely restrained rage.
"Why have we been summoned?" he demanded, voice dripping venom. "For that madman?"
Three other commanders echoed his outrage, murmurs spreading like wildfire.
Old Man Thomas remained silent upon his throne, ancient eyes keenly observing every shift in expression, every flicker of intent, especially upon his grandson's serene face.
Damon stepped forward, voice calm yet carrying effortlessly to every corner of the hall.
"Greetings, uncles, aunts, and honored platoon commanders. I understand it feels… strange to gather for one such as I."
Whispers erupted.
"Is that truly the madman who dwelt in silence within the Void Mansion for fifteen years?"
"How does he speak with such boldness now?"
Damon continued undeterred, crimson eyes sweeping the assembly.
"For fifteen years, I watched you all. Watched the two heads, Alfie and Abel, bicker like starving dogs over the lord's seat. Watched you commanders succumb to greed, lust, and ambition, fracturing our great family into petty factions."
His voice hardened, indignation rising like a dark tide.
"And yet… you leave my father, your true Lord, to rot in the hands of our enemies."
Killing intent surged from Damon, pure, refined, and terrifying, stunning the Kai Walkers into momentary silence.
Alfie recovered first, laughing coldly. "The attack fifteen years ago was your doing, boy. And now you speak of rescue? Do you even know ,who holds him bound ?"
Abel remained calm, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "What gives you such audacity, child?"
Damon's smirk deepened.
"The House of Mambas, worshippers of the Dark Lord Anubis?" His voice was soft, yet it silenced the hall. "By now, Father would have been swallowed by darkness."
Alfie sneered. "Exactly. He is lost."
Damon's eyes flashed. "We stem from something far greater, just as they do."
The words landed like a thunderclap. Alfie and Abel fell silent, faces paling.
Damon turned to the throne.
"Grandfather, I wish to make an announcement before this assembly. I seek this venerable one's blessing."
Old Man Thomas's brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded once.
Damon straightened, presence expanding until the air itself seemed to bow.
"On this same day next year," he declared, voice ringing with unshakable conviction, "I will challenge one of the twelve commanders for their seat, and command of all armies and weaponry under them."
Dead silence.
Then,laughter.
Mocking. Disbelieving. Cruel.
Gilgamesh, Fourth Platoon Leader, muscular, scarred, one leg casually draped over his table, grinned wildly. "The boy has guts. I like that."
Another commander, sharp-featured with a massive shuriken strapped across his back, smirked slyly. "Are you certain you're ready for such… feats, little madman?"
Curses and jeers followed, each commander perceiving the proclamation as an insult to their authority.
Old Man Thomas watched his grandson intently, thoughts racing.
This child cannot cultivate. His talent was stolen at birth. Primordial bones shattered. Veins ruptured beyond repair. Yet he claims he will seize a commander's seat, each of whom stands at the peak of the Kai Walker realm, lords of vast domains…
"My boy," he asked finally, concern etching deep lines into his ancient face, "are you certain?"
Damon met his grandfather's gaze without flinching.
"What I have spoken will be done. On this day next year, I will claim a seat among them."
As he spoke, the twelve commanders unleashed their full auras, twelve mountains crashing down upon one frail youth.
The air thickened until breathing became labor. Stone floors groaned.
Yet Damon stood unmoved. His own killing intent rose to meet their, equal, refined, ancient.
Weapons half-drawn gleamed in the void-light.
One female commander, Yunna instinctively clutched her throat, eyes widening.
That boy… he is anything but ordinary.
Old Man Thomas raised a hand, and the pressure vanished as though it had never been.
"My child," he said, voice steady but laced with hidden excitement, "a direct challenge cannot be issued lightly. There are sacred processes."
He took a slow sip of white wine from a jade cup, savoring the moment.
"Yet today, this old heart is glad."
Rising to his full height, aura subtly flaring, he continued:
"There is a path, my boy. For one year, you will join a platoon. Fight on the borders. Earn merit through blood and glory. When you return crowned in victory, none will dare oppose your claim."
Old Man Thomas understood the ancient laws of the Void family, he could not shatter them, but with will and influence, he could bend them like reeds in storm winds.
Damon bowed slightly, crimson eyes gleaming.
The hall remained silent, every soul present sensing the birth of something irreversible.
A storm was coming.
And at its center stood the Child of Insanity, smiling.