SSS-Grade Acceleration Talent made me Fastest Lord of Apocalypse-Chapter 83: “Soldiers of Dreamy Sky—prepare for WAR!”

While Damien was still formulating his next move, far away in Dreamy Sky City, a different kind of storm was beginning to brew.

Dreamy Sky City—one of the six major strongholds of the Blue Hammer Kingdom—sprawled over the plains like a sleeping colossus. Compared to Valthorn’s only City, it was a behemoth nearly twice the size, brimming with tightly-knit housing blocks and paved roads laid out in a precise grid. The streets sliced through the city in perfect right angles, a testament to the kingdom’s military efficiency.

Children played in the alleyways, their laughter ringing out as vendors called out prices over baskets of fresh bread and grilled meat. Men and women mingled in the market squares, chatting, bartering, going about their daily routines.

Completely unaware of the war creeping ever closer.

Of course, not everyone was so blissfully ignorant.

At the very heart of the city, a tower plated in enchanted gold alloy pierced the sky like a spear. This was no ordinary building—it was the command tower, directly linked to the central war room and all active watchtowers. From here, any military development in the outer regions could be traced within moments.

And atop this tower, like a sentinel forged from steel and wrath, stood a man.

He was bare-chested, muscles rippling like sculpted stone, thick veins running beneath his bronze skin. Even without moving, the very air around him trembled—as if struggling to contain the sheer pressure of his existence. His presence warped the atmosphere like heat off a furnace, creating a haze that distorted the horizon.

This was General Henriks, one of Blue Hammer’s Gold Rank monsters.

A few meters behind him stood a younger man, shoulders tense and forehead beaded with sweat. He held a communication scroll in one trembling hand, his voice low and cautious.

"General Henriks, we’ve lost connection with Watchtower 45."

"Commander Carl Luxei is also unresponsive..."

Each word came slowly, as if dragging a boulder up a hill.

The young scout’s expression twisted, torn between disbelief and horror. It was one thing to hear of minor border skirmishes. But a complete loss of contact with an entire outpost? That was something else.

He took a step back, unconsciously distancing himself from the growing pressure radiating from the general.

Henriks didn’t speak. Not right away.

His eyes, glowing faintly with spiritual energy, narrowed slightly—gleaming like a beast’s in the dark. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening, but he remained silent. Still. Silent. Seething.

The implication was clear: not only had a frontline tower been lost, but two trusted commanders had likely been killed.

And worse still?

The culprit was Valthorn.

The name hung in the air like a curse.

That insignificant kingdom—a place barely worth remembering during strategic meetings—had dared to strike first?

Was Valthorn tired of existing?

A flash of lightning crackled behind Henriks’ eyes, but he said nothing. Not yet.

But in that moment, something in the wind shifted.

The peace of Dreamy Sky City wouldn’t last.

While the scout was narrating the report, General Henriks’ expression remained stone-cold, as if the loss of Watchtower 45 was nothing more than a passing inconvenience. His thick arms remained crossed, his breathing slow and steady. Not even a twitch of the brow.

But that calm shattered with the scout’s next words.

"Vice Commander Meguro Rosewood... was also brutally killed."

The moment those words left the scout’s lips, Henriks’ body visibly stiffened, like a war drum that had been struck mid-rest. His face, until now unreadable, twitched.

Then—

"What did you say?"

His voice thundered like a hammer crashing into the hot solid steel.

"Rosewood? Surely it ain’t that Rosewood..."

For the first time, real fear crept into the eyes of the Gold Rank general. A chill clawed down his spine. Though he didn’t believe in deities, at that moment, Henriks found himself praying—not to any god, but to fate itself.

Please, not that Rosewood.

But reality had no mercy to offer.

"Meguro Rosewood. Heir to the Rosewood family..."

The scout’s quiet confirmation hit like a hammer strike to the gut.

Henriks’ face drained of all color.

His jaw slackened.

He stood frozen, staring into the empty horizon as though he’d glimpsed his own grave.

For nearly a minute, he didn’t move.

Then, slowly, like a man waking from a nightmare he could never escape, he murmured, almost too softly to hear:

"I’m finished... That monster won’t let me live."

His voice quivered at the end.

Even if he hadn’t lifted a finger against her, even if it wasn’t his fault—even if he tried to explain—all of it was meaningless. That man wouldn’t care. Because his daughter had died on Henriks’ watch.

Henriks knew what was coming. And not just for him.

His wife, his sons, even distant relatives—the fury of that man would wipe them all out like they were dust.

The scout, watching the fear take hold of the man before him, felt a numbing chill spread across his chest. He had never seen such a look in the eyes of a Gold Rank warrior before.

It was despair.

Raw and helpless.

Suddenly, Henriks’ face hardened.

"No," he muttered. "I can’t just wait."

A dark fire lit behind his eyes.

"I need to do something. If I’m going to die... I’ll at least buy a painless death for my family. The only way to do that—"

His teeth clenched.

"—is to destroy the one who killed her."

With renewed conviction, Henriks looked eastward, his gaze cutting across the miles as if he could already see through the disguises, see the Valthorn soldiers hiding under Blue Hammer colors.

"Every single one of them... has to die."

There was no mercy in his voice. No doubt. freёnovelkiss.com

Only a chilling certainty.

He turned toward the city, and roared:

"Soldiers of Dreamy Sky—prepare for WAR!"

The command echoed through enchanted stone and steel, bouncing across towers, walls, and training grounds. Like a chain reaction, alarm bells flared into life.

At checkpoints and barracks across the city, men jolted upright, their meals forgotten, cards dropped, conversations silenced. Training dummies were left swinging in the wind.

Within moments, the war machine of Dreamy Sky City jolted into motion.

Armored formations marched into position. Archers flocked to parapets. Massive mana-forged gears turned within the city’s walls, awakening long-silent traps and defense mechanisms.

A lockdown was declared.

Civilians were rounded up and sent to safe zones. Storefronts were sealed. All non-military transport was halted.

The air buzzed with tension, thick and choking.

And outside the central war tower, a dull mechanical rhythm began—gears spinning, barriers rising, magic circles lighting up. The room filled with the coordinated chaos of soldiers and commanders preparing for battle.

Above it all, Henriks stood like a demon preparing for his final stand, his eyes never once leaving the horizon.

The wrath of Dreamy Sky had awoken.