SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 72: Crippling Hugo

Even after Damien’s cold warning, Adriana and Hugo continued to move, brushing off his words as if they were nothing more than idle threats.

Hmm. Damien’s gaze instantly turned glacial.

That was it.

He had had enough of this clown’s posturing.

He despised people like Hugo—those who leapt around with arrogant flair, throwing words and challenges like confetti, yet crumbled when it was time to face the consequences.

But even now, despite the swelling irritation in his chest, Damien remembered one thing—Hugo was still blood.

Extended family, sure. But family nonetheless.

So, for the final time, he spoke. His voice dropped into a sharp, cutting tone that rang through the courtyard like the sound of a blade being unsheathed.

"Both of you... stop where you are. Or don’t blame me for being ruthless."

There was no bluster in his voice. No dramatic flourish. Just raw, steely resolve.

A shiver spread through the gathered crowd.

The tone, the stance, the killing intent barely restrained beneath the surface—this wasn’t a bluff. This wasn’t a show.

It was a death sentence waiting to be carried out.

For the first time, even the most skeptical soldiers understood that Damien—the crown prince—would genuinely attack. He would kill his own cousin, his own blood, right here and now.

The realization settled over them like a weight, heavy and suffocating.

Dvorak’s expression finally cracked. He couldn’t stay silent anymore.

Damien was his brother, and he had watched him grow—but this...

This was a line even Dvorak wasn’t sure should be crossed.

"Damien, my brother," he called out, his voice steady but pleading, "don’t do something you’ll regret forever..."

"Matters of life and death... aren’t things to be taken lightly."

There was a weight to Dvorak’s words, the kind only someone who had tasted the finality of death and the sorrow of loss could carry.

Niomi, meanwhile, stood silently by Damien’s side. Her skin had gone pale, the color drained from her face like a ghost had brushed past her.

She had never been exposed to this kind of drama. Born and raised within the safety of noble walls, she had lived a life insulated from brutal decisions, real conflict, and blood-stained ultimatums.

But even now, in the face of possible carnage, one truth burned bright in her heart.

Whatever path her husband chose, she would walk it with him.

Even if it led through fire.

Damien didn’t respond to either of them. His gaze remained fixed on the mother and son pair, who had now stopped walking, frozen by the overwhelming pressure radiating from him.

Then, slowly, his eyes turned to Roan.

His uncle stood still, staring off into the distance with hollow eyes, as if his soul had slipped loose from his body.

He looked utterly devastated.

How had things unraveled like this?

A once-close family now fractured by ambition, lies, and simmering resentment.

Several soldiers glanced at Roan and looked away quickly, guilt writ across their faces. They had seen the man’s kindness firsthand. His fairness. His integrity. He treated even the lowliest footsoldier with dignity.

And now, he stood like a ghost amid a storm he couldn’t control.

A man watching his world burn, unable—or unwilling—to stop it.

With his hands slightly trembling, Roan finally spoke, his voice weighed down by sorrow and fury.

"Damien... is this how you treat your family? Do we mean nothing to you? Do we hold no value in your eyes?"

His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed on.

"Did I dedicate decades of my life to this kingdom’s future... just to see my son humiliated like this, in front of everyone?"

There was silence, heavy and suffocating, before he added coldly,

"Have you even considered how your father would react... when he hears about what happened today?"

But Damien’s eyes didn’t flicker. His expression remained frozen—an emotionless mask carved from stone.

Since when did he start factoring in the feelings of others before taking action?

Since when did the opinions of the so-called ’family’ matter?

Adriana’s lips curled into a thin, cruel smile.

She looked at Damien with eyes full of disdain, her voice calm and deliberate—like venom slipping from the fangs of a serpent.

"Today, my son will walk away unharmed. And no one here... will be able to stop that."

Then, her gaze sharpened, and her next words cut through the air like a blade of ice.

"Not even you. Not even your father, if he were here himself, could stand in our way."

A small murmur passed through the crowd, but Roan simply turned toward her with a bewildered look. There was something in her confidence, something that felt unnatural—unshakable.

And then he saw it.

In a fluid motion, Adriana raised her hand, revealing a faintly glowing talisman etched with complex patterns. The power within it pulsed with a rhythmic hum that seemed to ripple through the surrounding air.

"A talisman...?" Dvorak muttered in disbelief, his eyes narrowing. "A Rank 2... movement-type talisman?"

Adriana’s smile widened.

"That’s right. As long as I activate this, no one here can stop us from leaving."

Her voice was steady, arrogant, absolute.

But she shouldn’t have finished that sentence.

Because even before she could blink, a sharp whistling sound tore through the air.

Then—BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Four explosive cracks echoed across the courtyard, each like a hammer blow against the silence.

Hugo screamed—a horrible, primal wail, more like a beast being slaughtered than a man.

"MY HANDS! AARGH!" he shrieked, collapsing to the ground as blood sprayed into the air.

Each of Damien’s shots had found its mark. Four precise blasts from Epoch Breaker, one for each of Hugo’s limbs.

He didn’t aim to kill. He aimed to cripple.

Adriana’s face was instantly soaked in her son’s blood.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

She had been too slow.

Too confident.

Too blind.

Roan stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees beside his screaming son.

"Hugo! My son—! Someone call Priest Theodore! NOW!" he roared, panic thick in his voice.

Dvorak, jaw clenched, turned to the soldiers and snapped, "You heard him! Go! Now!"

One of the men immediately dashed toward the church, his armor clanking as he sprinted.

Meanwhile, Adriana stood frozen.

Her body trembled. Her hands clenched into fists.

Her eyes turned bloodshot, and veins bulged along her temples. Fury roared inside her like a wildfire. Her nails dug into her palms until they bled, but she didn’t even notice.

With a voice that shook with rage, she hissed,

"Damien... you’ll pay for this."

Her gaze pierced through him like a dagger.

"I will get justice for my son. Even if it costs me everything."

But Damien didn’t flinch.

He didn’t even look at her.

He turned his back on them all—on Roan’s pleading, on Hugo’s sobbing, on Adriana’s hatred—and walked away without sparing another word.

Just as he reached the edge of the courtyard, however, he stopped.

His gaze slowly turned back—not toward Adriana or Roan—but to a particular young man standing among the soldiers. The same arrogant one who had been grinning earlier, all too entertained by the chaos.

Red tiger!

Damien’s eyes locked onto his, and he spoke, voice low but thunderously clear.

"Don’t think you can walk away after challenging me."

"I don’t care who it is. If anyone dares to stand against me..."

He paused for just a moment, letting his words settle.

"...then they better be ready to face the consequences."

"This isn’t a game of cards," Damien said coldly, his voice echoing like steel drawn from a sheath. "It’s your life... or mine. Don’t expect mercy after what you tried to pull."

His eyes were sharp, cutting through the air like twin blades.

"It’s either you... or me."

He didn’t wait for a response. There was no more to say. No reason to waste another second on someone who had already crossed the line.

He turned away, his cloak billowing faintly in the wind.

There was still a war to fight. A battlefield that awaited him—not just with swords and soldiers, but with schemes and shadows far darker than anything Hugo had managed.

Just like he had taught Hugo, Damien was going to carve a memory into the bones of the Blue Hammer Kingdom.

A lesson they would never forget.

The crowd stood in stunned silence, their eyes fixed on Damien’s receding back. His earlier words echoed in their minds, chilling and undeniable—each syllable like a hammer pounding against their thoughts.

Many among them were shaken to their core.

Some began to understand, truly understand—Hugo’s actions weren’t just childish arrogance. They were a direct slap to the face, an insult that spat on Damien’s authority and hard-earned position.

It was like this: after years of blood, sweat, and sacrifice, you finally cleared the path to success—earned your place, proved your worth—and then, someone who had done nothing storms in and questions your qualification.

Who would tolerate that?

Certainly not Damien. Not in this world.

And now... no one watching would forget that truth.