Chapter 6: Revelations
The interrogation chamber was steeped in an oppressive silence, broken only by the faint drip of blood from the walls and the lingering hum of void energy that hung in the air like a funeral shroud. The stone floor was cold and unyielding, stained with the remnants of betrayal and death.
Simon's eyes widened in raw, primal terror. His entire body trembled uncontrollably as he collapsed to his knees, the impact jarring his bones. "Ancestor, please, hold your hand!" he begged, his voice hoarse and cracking with the weight of desperation. He knew all too well that death hovered mere inches away, its cold breath already brushing his neck.
Old Man Thomas's gaze burned with unquenchable fury, ancient eyes like twin abysses that had witnessed countless cycles of life and destruction. "At this very moment," he stated coldly, his voice carrying the weight of mountains, "we are besieged by two formidable forces: the Endo family, wielders of those peculiar eye powers that twist reality itself, and their loyal hound, Red Moon." He fixed Simon with a piercing stare that seemed to strip away flesh and soul alike. "Tell me, foolish child, were your reckless actions truly worth it?" He advanced slowly, each step deliberate and heavy, causing Simon to quiver under the crushing pressure of his scrutiny.
"Mbeyo!" Old Man Thomas declared, his tone resounding like heavenly decree as he stroked his long beard thoughtfully. The two remaining infiltrators, who had bowed slightly ahead of Simon in false submission, began to convulse uncontrollably. Their bodies twisted in agony, veins bulging as the void's corruption took hold. Thomas showed no mercy, no hesitation. He enveloped his hand in pure void energy, a swirling black mist that devoured light itself, and touched the first infiltrator's forehead. The man screamed in torment as his body began to dissolve into swirling void particles, flesh and bone unraveling into nothingness, scattering like dark snow across the chamber.
Simon watched in abject horror, his heart pounding like war drums in his chest. He struggled desperately to stand, legs shaking, but Old Man Thomas pressed him back down with an unyielding hand, the touch alone feeling like chains forged from the abyss. "Mbeyo," the Ancestor said calmly, his voice icy and devoid of warmth. "You have regained consciousness. Do you understand why? Enemies have infiltrated this sanctuary, this sacred heart of the Void Territory, since my return."
Old Man Thomas smiled then, a grim expression that held no mirth, only the cold satisfaction of justice. "No one wishes to be tainted by the void, void corruption," he proclaimed, his aura flaring briefly as he disintegrated the second infiltrator into void particles without another word. Simon the last survivor gasped in sheer terror, eyes wide with the realization of inevitable doom, and bolted toward the door in blind panic.
In that exact, fateful instant, the heavy iron door burst open with explosive force.
Damon strode into the chamber like a devil descending upon the mortal realm. He kicked the door with such power that it slammed directly into the fleeing infiltrator's face, the impact resounding like thunder. In the same fluid, seamless heartbeat, he seized the man by the head, fingers digging into skull like iron claws, and slammed his foot into the infiltrator's face with crushing, bone-shattering power. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc. "Grandfather," Damon exclaimed with a wild, exhilarated grin that revealed the madness burning within, "don't have all the fun without me!"
Damon's voice echoed through the chamber and pierced Simon's mind like a poisoned arrow, memories flooded back unbidden, the relentless taunts that had mocked him in his darkest moments, the cruel laughter that had accompanied his wife's final breath. Damon smirked knowingly, his crimson eyes gleaming as if he could taste every bitter thought swirling in Simon's soul.
"Hey, hey," he taunted once more, voice dripping with sadistic amusement directly into Simon's mind, "you took your wife's life with your own hands; don't place the blame on me."
"You bastard!" Simon roared, rage exploding through him like a volcano long dormant. He activated multiple techniques at once, void energy surging through his battered body. His movements became swift and agile, fueled by pure vengeance; he no longer cared for Old Man Thomas or the consequences, his sole focus, his only burning desire, was to tear Damon apart.
Yet Damon remained utterly unflappable, standing there with his hair wild and chaotic, framing his beautiful yet terrifying face like a crown of darkness. "Now I see you for the fool you are," he mocked, voice calm and laced with disdain. He effortlessly maneuvered around Simon's frenzied attack by subtly controlling the blood centipede still embedded within the butler's brain, twisting the man's own body against him.
Damon grinned like a madman descended from ancient abysses as Simon felt a sharp, searing pain pierce his ribs. His gaze dropped instinctively to the source of the agony, a dagger lodged deep within his flesh, buried to the hilt. Before he could even process the wound or counter, Damon leaped back with playful grace, only to drive his foot into Simon's chest with brutal, bone-crushing force. "Don't worry," Damon said lightly, almost conversationally, "you'll die now."
Old Man Thomas watched the scene unfold in stunned disbelief, his ancient mind struggling to fathom the sheer audacity and cruelty before him. "This boy, his nature is truly vile," he mused quietly to himself, eyes locked on Damon with a mixture of awe and wariness. "No hesitation to attack, no fear of the strong; his battle style is reckless yet terrifyingly precise. With true talent harnessed properly, he could easily rank among the top prodigies of all Avalonia." For a fleeting moment, a flicker of deep pride crossed the Ancestor's weathered face, warming the cold void within.
Damon pounced like a shadow given lethal form, pinning Simon to the ground with overwhelming strength. "But first," he declared, crimson eyes gleaming with predatory hunger, "let's uncover those pathetic secrets of yours." He activated the Pillar of Control deep within his newborn temple. His arms turned jet black, veins pulsing with demonic energy that thickened the air until it felt heavy and ominous, like the prelude to heavenly tribulation. The shift prompted Old Man Thomas to retreat a cautious step, weapons instantly drawn, ancient mantras flowing from his lips as he enveloped himself in a protective shroud of pure void energy.
"What on earth is that?" Thomas wondered aloud, his voice tinged with genuine intrigue. Yet an ancient, primal aura emanating from Damon held him at bay, not out of fear, but from a deep, instinctual caution that resonated in his very bones.
Damon placed his blackened hand on Simon's head. Overwhelming horror coursed through Simon's soul like rivers of ice, yet his body lay utterly still, completely ensnared by Damon's unbreakable control.
"Ancient Mind Devil," Damon invoked, his voice resonant with forbidden power as he pressed his palm firmly against Simon's forehead. Instantly, Simon's eyes rolled back, whites showing as Damon forcefully absorbed his memories, ripping them free like roots from sacred soil.
In the first vision, a man clad in flowing red robes appeared, his skin pale as moonlit marble, eyes glowing with piercing red light, exuding an oppressive aura that commanded instant submission and fear. He stood bold and commanding, a true predator among men, with thousands of soldiers arrayed beneath him in perfect, silent formation, their heads bowed in awe.
Then another face emerged from the depths: a man with three eyes, each possessing unique and terrifying powers that warped the very fabric of reality. His gestures were serene and graceful, reminiscent of a Buddha descended to the mortal plane, yet his eyes betrayed a cunning depth that hid oceans of schemes. "Bring me the Lady of the Void," the three-eyed man commanded, his voice smooth as silk yet laced with undeniable authority, "and I shall grant you freedom from Red Moon." Damon recognized this individual instantly as the mastermind, the orchestrator behind the kidnapping of his mother.
Damon's smile twisted into a vicious snarl of pure rage. "These bastards are testing me!" he spat, voice low and dangerous as he continued to absorb Simon's memories and life essence without restraint. "Ehhhhh," was all that escaped Simon's fractured mind, a pitiful, incoherent gasp, as he felt himself reduced to utter folly, his very existence unraveling.
"This child is cruel," Old Man Thomas observed quietly, aghast yet unable to look away as he watched Damon commit his heinous act with cold efficiency. Damon withdrew the dagger from Simon's side in a swift motion and stabbed him multiple times in the neck, each thrust precise and merciless. Blood splattered across his face in warm arcs. "Shut the hell up!" Damon shouted, his voice echoing with finality. At last, Damon's mind calmed, the madness receding into serene satisfaction as he surveyed the blood-soaked chamber.
Rising to his feet with graceful ease, he turned to his grandfather with a disarming smile, though nothing about it appeared gentle or human; in that moment, he resembled a devil wearing the skin of a youth. "Don't you think your actions have been excessive?" Old Man Thomas questioned coldly, his tone laced with disapproval. But Damon waved his hand dismissively, as if swatting away an insignificant fly. "That's what they get for attempting to kidnap my mother." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the blood from his face with casual, almost elegant grace.
"Grandfather," Damon said, his expression shifting abruptly to one of deadly seriousness, he locked eyes with Old Man Thomas. "We must prepare." "Why do you say that?" Thomas asked, intrigue flickering in his ancient eyes as anger gave way to curiosity.
Damon raised two fingers deliberately. "In the next two years, a significant assault will occur in the Void Territory, launched by Red Moon. By my calculations, we lack both defense and manpower." He paused, letting the weight sink in. "But don't worry, Grandfather; I have a solution for one of our problems." Old Man Thomas's eyes widened in genuine shock. "And what might that be?" he inquired, voice steady but laced with anticipation.
Damon shook his head slowly. "Tomorrow, let's meet at the Lake of Dreams. And bring three Rank 5 demon beast cores," he instructed calmly, watching as Old Man Thomas's expression shifted to one of profound astonishment. "Three Rank 5 demon beast cores!" the Ancestor exclaimed, utterly taken aback by the audacity of the demand.
Damon remained unfazed, his crimson eyes steady and unyielding. "That's your only way out right now," he replied calmly. "You may find it a blessing in disguise," he added with a gentle, almost innocent smile that belied the madness within, before excusing himself and striding from the chamber.
Old Man Thomas stood alone amid the carnage, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air. "I must keep a close watch on him," he thought to himself, a surge of excitement coursing through his ancient veins like the fire of youth reborn. Then, with a ripple of void energy, he vanished into nothingness.
The shadow of the Red Moon stretched ever longer across Avalonia.
And the wheels of fate turned faster toward inevitable war.