SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 28: "Crown Prince… is it true that you’ve awakened?

He successfully broke through to Stage 2 of the Iron Rank after a single night of cultivation.

A feat that normally took even elite warriors a months to accomplish—often with the aid of high-grade elixirs, spiritual herbs, and rare treasures.

Yet Damien still wasn't content.

There was an instinctual whisper in the depths of his soul, telling him this was far from his true limit. He could feel it—there was more to be squeezed out, more power that could be brought forth. But for now, he had hit an invisible wall. The moment he tried pushing past the 500% acceleration mark, everything stalled as if the heavens themselves were refusing to let him take another step.

Just then, a semi-transparent window materialized in his vision.

[Acceleration Talent EXP: 999/10,000]

"Hmph! So it can evolve..." Damien mused, his gaze flickering. The realization was satisfying, almost obvious. "Maybe then I'll be able to accelerate further."

He rose to his feet and clenched his fists, then relaxed them.

Crack!

A loud, metallic popping noise echoed from within his body, like iron colliding with iron.

Damien's eyes gleamed.

"My strength has increased again..."

He wasn't entirely sure by how much, but the increase felt significant. He guessed... ten percent, maybe more?

---

Next Morning.

Damien sat quietly at the dining table, sipping the lukewarm contents of a wooden bowl.

The so-called soup prepared by Amyra was little more than hot water sprinkled with limp vegetables. Bland and watery—more like disappointment in a bowl than a proper meal.

Amyra didn't join them today; she was busy teaching Niomi the Harrier family's foundational cultivation techniques.

From time to time, Damien felt two pairs of eyes watching him.

Roan sat stiffly across the table, his gaze flickering toward Damien with a conflicted expression. After last night's events, Devrok had told him everything—every detail, every absurd revelation. The man didn't know how to respond, so he chose to remain silent, wordlessly shoveling down the unappetizing broth.

Devrok, seated beside him, noticed Roan's stolen glances and felt a vague sense of satisfaction. His uncle's silence was proof enough that the man was shaken.

But even Devrok himself couldn't shake off a growing unease.

He stared at Damien, bewildered.

Something was off.

Just by sitting there, eating a sub-par meal, Damien exuded a pressure that made it hard to breathe. The aura wasn't directed at anyone, nor was Damien doing it intentionally—but it was there, nonetheless. A quiet, terrifying force that wrapped around him like an invisible storm.

The realization dawned upon Devrok.

He's gotten stronger... again.

"No, as an elder brother I can't be left behind,"

Devrok's decided to merge with the Stone hearted knight best core as soon as possible.

Just then, Damien calmly placed his golden spoon down and spoke in an unhurried tone.

"Any progress on identifying the assassin?"

His tone was casual, but his gaze was sharp. Though he asked, he wasn't expecting much. After all, he had already scoured the assassin's body and found nothing of value.

But Devrok's expression darkened slightly. He ground his teeth before uttering two words:

"Pierced Skull."

The words hit the table like a hammer strike.

The atmosphere instantly shifted, becoming thick and oppressive.

Damien's pupils shrank slightly. Pierced Skull—an infamous pay-to-kill organization.

And not just any organization. Their influence ran deep, spreading like roots across the continent. They were known for one thing above all: completion rate.

One hundred percent.

No matter how many assassins it took, they would fulfill the contract. And they had the track record to prove it.

Damien's thoughts flickered to an old tale—a prosperous kingdom in the west, the Purple Rose Kingdom. In one single night, every member of the royal family had been exterminated without exception. Not a single guard, maid, or elder had survived.

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"Once they accept a task, they don't stop until either the target dies..." Damien's thoughts turned grim, "...or the client cancels the contract."

Devrok sighed heavily. "They've probably realized their failure already. Stronger assassins will be coming soon. We don't have much time."

"Damn..." Damien winced inwardly.

His mission to save King Roosevelt had already been on shaky ground, but now?

This changed everything.

He was stuck between two impossibilities—leave for Durant City to find a Rank 2 Healer, or stay and protect the king from elite assassins.

Both choices carried heavy risks.

But Damien wasn't the kind of man to crack under pressure. He had stared down death before. He had walked through storms that could break the spirit of even seasoned warriors.

His thoughts raced, calculating, strategizing.

Then he shook his head, brushing aside the immediate concern.

"I'll speak to the generals. Call them. I want to discuss something important."

Roan and Devrok nodded solemnly.

"I'll notify them immediately," Roan said, his voice steady with urgency. He understood the gravity of the situation. One mistake now could cost them the kingdom.

Just as he turned to leave, Roan paused and hesitated.

Damien noticed. "Uncle... is there something you want to ask?"

Roan coughed awkwardly, then leaned forward slightly.

"Crown Prince... is it true that you've awakened?"

His eyes shimmered with intensity. Though he had heard everything from Devrok, he wanted to hear it from Damien himself.

Damien smiled faintly.

He was expecting the question.

Instead of answering with words, he reached for a silver knife on the table.

Roan frowned. Devrok looked equally confused.

Without a word, Damien sliced his palm. Blood trickled down his skin.

"Damien!" Devrok instinctively wanted to stop him, but held back.

Damien raised his palm, letting them see the wound clearly.

Then he activated Accelerated Healing.

A faint, silvery glow enveloped the injury.

Before their eyes, the gash closed rapidly, the skin mending itself in mere seconds until there was no trace left—not even a scar.

Roan's breath hitched.

Devrok's pupils shrank.

Neither of them said anything—but the message was clear.

Damien had awakened.

And the talent he awakened was was no ordinary talent.

The ability to heal.

In world filled with deat and decay at every step the ability to heal was of immense value.