Chapter 4: Red Moon
The training grounds hung in stunned silence, the lingering dust of Damon's final strike still drifting like ash from a funeral pyre.
Damon's crimson gaze shifted to Anki, the unbreakable shield of the Void Territory. The gentleness in those ancient eyes did nothing to soften the cold edge now carving Damon's expression.
"Anki of Defense," he said, voice calm as still water over a bottomless abyss, "you are truly worthy of your title. I have little to say to you."
Then the temperature plummeted.
"But the next time you interrupt me, in any form or manner, you will pay dearly." No animosity colored his tone, only absolute certainty. "Know your place."
The words fell like a guillotine blade. Silence swallowed the training grounds whole; even the wind seemed to bow.
Gilgamesh clicked his tongue, scarred face twisting between rage and reluctant admiration.
"This bastard…" he muttered, raking fingers through his wild hair. Never in his long years of blood and battle had anyone dared address a commander in such manner.
"He is more audacious than I imagined. Truly maddening."
Yet beneath the indignation, something else stirred in Gilgamesh's chest, envy, sharp as a hidden dagger.
He stared at Damon, eyes narrowing.
A man who fears no strength. A man who bows to no presence.
That… is the kind of lord I wish to follow.
A bitter smile tugged at his lips as old memories surfaced unbidden: a woman's gentle laugh, a battlefield long ago, his own hesitation that cost everything.
If I had possessed even half this boy's courage then… would she still draw breath?
He felt suddenly small beneath the vast Avalonian sky, a mere ant daring to gaze upon dragons.
Anki, ever composed, inclined his head with calm restraint.
"Young Lord, I offer my humble apology."
He paused, ancient eyes gleaming with curiosity that bordered on excitement.
"Yet I once heard from the Ancestor himself that you could not cultivate. Your pathways were severed at birth. And still…" His gaze drifted to the colossal mace resting lightly on Damon's shoulder. "I watched you fling a three-hundred-ton weapon as though it were a child's toy. No one below the Baptism Realm could dream of such a feat."
Silence deepened, thick enough to taste.
Gilgamesh's eyes widened; the realization struck him like a warhammer. He had been so caught in the madness of the moment that he had never questioned it.
All eyes turned to Damon.
The training mace, three hundred tons of void-forged iron, rested in his palm with impossible ease, as though gravity itself had forgotten its claim.
Whispers rippled through the gathered trainees and guards.
"How…? How does he hold it so lightly?"
Shock painted every face; some stepped back instinctively, as if staring upon a living myth.
Damon coughed lightly, a faint, amused sound.
"Why do you all concern yourselves with another's secrets?"
Without warning, he flicked his wrist.
The mace hurtled toward Gilgamesh's chest like a black meteor.
Gilgamesh caught it reflexively, then froze.
For a heartbeat, the weapon felt almost weightless in his powerful hands.
Then, abruptly, crushing heaviness returned, nearly driving him to one knee.
A faint, knowing smile curved Damon's lips.
In that instant, he vanished, leaping into the crowd of onlookers and disappearing from mortal sight like smoke through fingers.
Anki stared at the distant horizon, voice low and cold.
"Gilgamesh. Do you now understand why I summoned you here?"
Gilgamesh remained silent, still gripping the mace.
"Tell me," Anki continued, excitement creeping into his usually impassive tone, "where have you ever seen a youth with ruptured veins and shattered bones display such strength… such confidence?"
He laughed softly, a rare sound from the man known as the Void's unbreakable shield.
"Honestly, I cannot blame the boy for his arrogance. This land… hahaha… Avalonia itself is about to be turned upside down."
Those who had witnessed the display felt a fire kindle in their blood, excitement, awe, and a touch of fear.
Meanwhile, Damon moved through shadowed corridors like a wraith, robes whispering against ancient stone.
"Now this," he murmured to himself, a feral grin spreading across his beautiful face, "is how one announces his presence."
Soon, he reached his private chamber and slipped inside, sealing the door with a gesture.
The room fell still.
"I may lack cultivation in the manner of this world," he said softly, leaping onto the grand bed with childlike abandon. Laughter burst from his chest, dark, joyous, unrestrained. "O divinity!"
At his invocation, raw power answered.
Divinity, ancient, primordial, drawn from the firmament beyond Avalonia's heavens, spilled outward like liquid starlight, flooding the chamber until the air itself shimmered gold and crimson.
"In my past life," Damon whispered, eyes distant with memory, "we did not forge cores. We built temples within the soul, sacred grounds where divinity pooled and power was born."
His voice grew reverent.
"I shall make this place my first temple."
The divinity surged at his command.
Two towering pillars erupted from the stone floor at the chamber's heart, carved from condensed divine essence.
The first, the Pillar of Strength, bore carvings of two colossal Asura locked in eternal battle across shattered heavens. Their killing intent was so vivid it leaked into the air; one could almost hear roars and feel the clash of god-slaying weapons.
The second, the Pillar of Control, depicted an ancient devil seated in lotus position. Horns curved like crescent moons proclaimed its ancestral rank. Its left hand pressed to it's lips in eternal command for silence; its right rested against its temple, gaze piercing as though it sought to drag souls into endless abyss.
Damon smiled in deep satisfaction.
"Two pillars will suffice… for now."
The chamber felt alive. The three carved entities seemed to breathe, watching, waiting.
Damon's perception expanded a hundredfold, every grain of dust, every heartbeat in the mansion became clear.
"Now," he said coldly, "let us hunt the rats."
The Pillar of Control hummed, a low, resonant note that sent a slow pulse of divine energy rippling outward.
"Mewww…"
Like an invisible tide, it swept through the Void Mansion, seeking anomalies.
Images flashed through Damon's mind like lightning strikes.
Eight maids and butlers,each secretly experts of the Baptism Realm, one at mid-stage Yomi.
Parasites, vile, writhing blood centipedes, clung to their brains, controlling thought and loyalty.
Worst of all: his mother, Dora, lay unconscious in her chamber.
Two parasite-controlled maids whispered within.
A mid-stage Yomi cultivator stood guard at her door.
Rage ignited in Damon's crimson eyes, cold, absolute, divine.
"They dare defile my holy ground?"
He refused to tolerate a single parasite within his newly claimed temple.
Damon sat cross-legged, soul blazing.
"Thanks to the Pillar of Control, I hold absolute dominion over body, soul, and mind."
His spirit divided.
Four pseudo-souls split from his core, small devil spawns shaped in his image, eyes glowing with hunger.
They laughed in perfect unison, voices echoing like ghostly chimes, and scattered in four directions.
Their purpose was singular: devour the souls of the infested.
One pseudo-soul drifted toward Dora's chamber.
Inside, Dora lay pale upon her bed, breathing shallow.
Two maids, Helen and another, conversed in low, urgent tones.
"Simon waits outside. We must move before the Void awakens fully," Helen whispered.
"Since the Young Lord awoke, everything has begun to shift. If we delay, all our plans will crumble."
The pseudo-soul paused in the shadows, sharp anger flashing across its tiny demonic face.
Oh, just wait. Soon I shall dance upon your severed heads.
Its gaze shifted to the butler outside, Simon.
Broad-shouldered, movements precise. Breath controlled. Presence sealed like a hidden blade.
No ordinary servant. Mid-stage Yomi Realm power coiled within.
The parasite sat fat and glistening upon his brain.
Possession of such a strong vessel is beyond my current reach, the fragment calculated. Limits exist. Alternatives remain.
It slid along corridor walls like living shadow.
"If I cannot claim the body…" An evil grin split its face. "Why not possess the parasite itself? Direct access to the mind."
Back in his temple, Damon's true body smiled.
"Possession complete."
The hunt began.
Through the parasite, Damon seized Simon's body like a puppeteer grasping strings.
Simon's consciousness awoke in horror.
What… what has taken me? Release me!
A faint, childlike giggle echoed in his mind, Damon's mocking laughter.
The butler's body moved against his will, forcing the chamber door open and charging inside.
"Honey, what is wrong?" Helen cried, stumbling back.
All she saw was her husband advancing with mechanical certainty, eyes empty, intent unmistakable: death.
Within his skull, Simon screamed.
Please! Spare her! I will do anything!
Damon's voice mimicked his perfectly, cruel and playful.
"Please spare her? Please spare her? No… I will not."
The words pierced the air.
Helen paled. "We've been discovered!"
The two maids dropped into battle stances.
The second maid moved like wind given form, daggers flashing, peak Yomi Realm cultivation erupting in a storm of killing intent.
"Ah," Damon murmured through Simon's lips, "she hides her strength well."
The chamber trembled.
The Red Moon had risen.