Chapter 35: The Cleaning of the House
The night in the Void Sanctuary had been the first true silence Damon had experienced in years. No screaming dimensions, no grinding gears of mechanical gods—just the steady rhythm of Saya's breathing. He had spent the night by her side, finally allowing his soul to anchor itself back to the world he was protecting. But as the first light of the new day crept across the floor, the sanctuary's wards began to scream. Damon sat up, his eyes instantly clear. He wasn't groggy; he was lethal. He looked at Saya, who was just waking, the peace of the night being stripped away by the distant thundering of war drums.
"They just couldn't wait," Damon said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He stood, dressing in his dark gear with deliberate, calm motions. Before leaving the room, he sat back down on the bed. He took Saya's face in his hands and kissed her—a deep, firm promise that the world outside would be quiet again soon. "Stay here," he whispered against her lips. He walked to the door and signaled to the shadows. Lucius materialized, his armor matte-black and his hand already on the hilt of his soul-blade.
"Sovereign," Lucius bowed. "You're on duty, Lucius," Damon commanded. "I don't care if the sky falls or the Queen herself knocks on this door. You stay with Saya. If anyone manages to get past me and reaches this hallway, I expect to find their corpses piled high enough to block the view. Do not leave her side." Lucius slammed a fist against his chest in a salute. "On my life and the honor of the Void, My Lord. She will not be touched."
Damon didn't send an army. He didn't call his generals. He tore a hole in reality and stepped directly onto the balcony of the Bastion of Malice, the Coalition's forward command center. Below him, a sea of ten thousand soldiers stood ready. At their head was Demon Lord Coatalion, a mountain of muscle and spiked plate armor. Floating above them, draped in shimmering celestial silk, was The Queen. Her golden aura was so bright it acted as a second sun, pumping "Divine Adrenaline" into the soldiers below.
"Damon!" Coatalion's voice shook the fortress. "You are a fool to come alone! The Queen has blessed our blades!" Damon interrupted, his voice carrying over the entire army without him even raising it. "I had a quiet morning planned. I was going to have breakfast with my wife. You took that from me." Coatalion roared and leaped, his massive war-axe trailing golden flames. It was a strike backed by the Queen's own divinity. Damon didn't draw a sword or cast a shield. He simply stepped forward. The heavy-gravity training made the air feel like water to him; he moved through the "resistance" of the Queen's aura as if it weren't there.
He caught the axe-head with his bare palm. The ground beneath him shattered from the force, but Damon's arm didn't even tremble. "Is this the 'bullshit' you were relying on?" Damon asked. He activated [Matter Deconstruction]. The legendary axe didn't just break; it dissolved into a fine, grey soot that blew away in the wind. Coatalion's eyes went wide, but before he could retreat, Damon's hand closed around the Demon Lord's throat. The Queen screamed from above, sending a pillar of white-hot judgment down, but the [Aethel-Regulator] in Damon's soul flared, making the light wash around him harmlessly.
With a single, concentrated surge of his raw physical torque, Damon squeezed. The sound of Coatalion's neck snapping was followed by the hiss of his entire body being unmade at the atomic level. Within seconds, the Great Demon Lord was nothing but a pile of ash. Damon stood in the settling dust, his eyes turning upward toward the shimmering silhouette of the Queen. He felt the weight of his new powers—laws carved into his very soul—ready to be unleashed. The air grew cold as he began to hover, his gaze locked on the divine being who had dared to disturb his home.
To be continued...