Chapter 350: Abyssal Slaughter

Vermont had thought that his Mistress would die.

But movement caught his peripheral vision.

A figure with long crimson hair, standing between Elizabeth and death, axe splitting a man from skull to groin.

Vermont’s eyes widened despite the pain.

’That boy... The one who led the students out of the portal... The one who ate the monsters...’

Damian Valcor.

’Somehow he came... He actually came here..’

Relief flooded through Vermont’s chest even as another strike caught his thigh, even as his body screamed that death was approaching.

’Mistress won’t die alone... She has someone fighting for her... Someone who cares enough to–’

Then he saw Damian’s Domain activate, saw over a hundred B ranks collapse and take their own lives, saw the sheer overwhelming power of that mental assault.

’What kind of monster... No... What kind of savior did Mistress befriend?’

One of the four S ranks sensed the shift on the battlefield, turned his head to see the mass suicides, understood the tactical disaster unfolding.

"The boy’s Domain is killing everyone!"

His voice carried genuine alarm.

"If we don’t stop him now–"

He broke off from the engagement, his body blurring with S rank speed, aimed directly at Damian’s position.

BOOM

Purple lightning intercepted him mid-flight.

Bella materialized in his path, blood streaming from her nose and ears, her face showing the strain of maintaining her Domain against the Orange haired man while fighting physically.

Her hands blazed with concentrated lightning, her stance firm despite the agony.

"You’re not going anywhere."

The S rank snarled, trying to circle around her–

Vermont’s spear thrust from behind, the blade enhanced with technique that made it punch through even S rank defenses.

CRACK

The spear tip scraped across ribs, not penetrating fully but forcing the fighter back into engagement range.

"We won’t let you touch him."

Vermont’s aged voice carried steel despite his failing body.

The four S ranks changed tactics instantly, recognizing Bella’s divided attention, pressing harder to exploit the weakness.

BOOM

A fist caught mid-strike, frozen in snapshot.

BOOM

A blade there, captured mid-swing.

BOOM

Lightning arcing between positions, the exchange happening too fast for comprehension.

BOOM

Blood spraying from wounds already inflicted, the violence existing in microseconds.

Vermont and Bella moved together despite exhaustion, despite injuries, despite knowing they were being slowly overwhelmed.

But they held the line.

Kept the four S ranks from reaching Damian and Elizabeth.

Bought time measured in heartbeats that felt like lifetimes.

****

The Murdock family members stood frozen, their faces pale, their weapons lowering as they witnessed something beyond their comprehension.

This wasn’t combat, this was execution, this was a sixteen-year-old boy treating minds like tools and breaking them with casual precision.

Elizabeth stared at Damian’s back, her violet eyes wide.

’How... How is the domain so strong now?!’

Damian’s voice cut through the shocked silence, addressing the surviving enemies with cold amusement.

"A hundred dead and I haven’t even started yet. Should I keep going? Or... do you want to try running?"

His smile widened.

"Spoiler: Running won’t help."

****

The A rank enemies broke their paralysis, survival instincts overriding shock.

More than two dozen elite operatives, all of them peak combatants trained specifically for assassination missions, all of them moving with the coordination that came from years of joint operations.

They attacked as one.

Raw desperation driving them forward. If the boy could kill B ranks with his mind, they needed to end him before he turned that weapon on them fully.

Damian’s Domain pulsed, directing its assault at them.

And they felt it immediately.

****

The lead attacker, a scarred veteran who’d killed over forty targets across his career, suddenly found his vision distorting.

The burning ground beneath him shifted, becoming familiar tile flooring. The air smelled different, like home, like the apartment he’d left behind years ago.

A woman stood in front of him. His wife. The one who’d left him when she discovered what he really did for money.

"You’re a murderer," she said, and her voice was exactly right, the tone he remembered from their last argument. "I trusted you... I loved you. And you’re just a killer."

He blinked hard, trying to shake the illusion, his Will reinforcing around his consciousness.

’Not real... Domain effect... Not real.’

The image flickered but held.

His wife’s face twisted with disgust. "Even now, covered in blood, you’re trying to kill more people. This is all you are... This is all you’ll ever be."

The words hit harder than they should. His blade wavered mid-swing, his concentration splitting between the physical fight and the mental assault.

Damian’s axe caught him across the throat while he hesitated.

Blood sprayed and the body dropped.

****

They were fighting blind, half their attention consumed by visions that felt real enough to pass for reality.

One A rank saw his hands covered in blood that wouldn’t wash off, no matter how hard he scrubbed. The blood kept spreading, crawling up his arms, and he could feel it, wet, sticky, warm, and when he looked up, Damian was already inside his guard.

The axe split his skull.

Another fighter heard voices of people she’d betrayed, their accusations overlapping, becoming a chorus that drowned out tactical awareness. She didn’t see the spear shaft coming until it impaled her through the chest.

But they were A ranks for a reason.

The survivors pushed through the mental assault with sheer Will, their defensive skills flaring, their formations tightening despite the distortions.

They adapted.

Started fighting with their eyes half-closed, relying on Aura sensing instead of vision. Focused on immediate threats instead of letting their minds wander into the Domain’s traps.

Damian’s Domain created openings, slowed their reactions, made them second-guess their movements.

But it wasn’t enough to break them completely like it had the B ranks.

Their Willpower held firm enough to fight through the worst of it, though every strike they threw came a fraction of a second slower than it should, every dodge was slightly off-angle, every decision questioned before executing.

The first A rank to reach him swung a sword enhanced with wind techniques, the blade cutting air with enough force to bisect trees.

Sonic Blink.

Damian vanished and the sword cleaved empty space. He reappeared behind the attacker, his axe already swinging. The blade caught the man between shoulder blades, splitting spine, destroying organs. The body folded forward, dead before hitting ground.

More came from different angles, their attacks timed to trap him regardless of which direction he dodged.

His

Telekinesis

lashed out.

One attacker flew sideways, his trajectory altered mid-strike, his sword impaling his own ally. Another fighter’s weapon was torn from his grip, spinning through air before returning like a boomerang to embed itself in his chest.

Damian’s axe split skulls, opened throats, carved through Aura-reinforced flesh.

But there were too many, and the Domain alone wasn’t enough.

CRACK

A hammer caught him in the ribs despite his obsidian armor, the impact cracking the protection, sending him sliding backward.

His

Self-Healing

activated immediately, mending cracked ribs, but the damage was accumulating faster than he could regenerate.

A spear punched through his obsidian-covered shoulder, the tip emerging from his back.

Blood poured from the wound. He grabbed the shaft with his free hand and pulled himself forward along it, closing distance despite the agony, his axe removing the spear-wielder’s head.

More A ranks attacked from multiple angles, their weapons moving with coordination born from years fighting together.

Damian’s

Macro Vision

tracked the strikes, predicted the angles, saw the openings. He twisted between them, their blades passing close enough to draw blood, his counterattacks claiming lives.

But more kept coming.

His obsidian armor shattered completely under a concentrated barrage, the black plates exploding into fragments. Blood ran from dozens of cuts. His breathing became labored, his movements slightly slower.

’Too many... Can’t maintain this pace...’

Then he remembered Kaiser’s words.

’The art exists to violate rules... Aura follows power... But power follows Will.’

And the old man’s voice, the one who’d first shown him the path.

’Abyssal Slaughter is the removal of everything unnecessary between decision and destruction.’

Damian’s movements stilled for half a heartbeat.

Everything unnecessary.

’Doubt is unnecessary!’

His grip on the axe tightened.

’Fear is unnecessary!’

’Planning for the next strike is unnecessary!’

’Preparing for what comes after is unnecessary!’

’There is only THIS moment! THIS strike! THIS absolute truth that I choose to make real!’

His Slaughter Intent blazed brighter, the translucent flames wrapping around the weapon itself, concentrating on the blade’s edge until reality itself seemed to strain around it.

’I’ve been fighting like someone who might fail.’

The realization hit like lightning.

’Like someone who needs backup plans. Like someone preparing for the possibility they survive my strike.’

His crimson eyes widened with understanding that transcended technique, transcended training, transcended everything except pure will made manifest.

’That’s the weakness.’

’That’s the hesitation that lets them live.’

’Abyssal Slaughter doesn’t work because I’m skilled. It works because I BELIEVE!’

The flames around his axe darkened, taking on weight that made the air itself feel heavier.

’In the instant my blade moves, there is no universe where they survive! No possibility where this strike fails! No future where they draw another breath!’

His Willpower surged, channeling into the weapon, into the principle, into the fundamental truth that separated those who understood death from those who merely delivered it.

’One strike! One kill!’

’Not a goal!’

’Not a technique!’

’Not even a fucking wish!’

The exhaustion was still there and the pain remained. But underneath it all, something absolute solidified in his chest.

’When I swing this axe, I’m not hoping to kill.’

’I’m not trying to kill!’

’I’m not planning to kill!’

He stepped forward, and the A ranks instinctively stepped back despite their superior numbers.

’I’m simply acknowledging what has already been decided the moment I chose them as my target!’

His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile as he raised his axe, the blade now glowing with dark light that seemed to drink in surrounding illumination.

His voice came out quiet, barely above a whisper, but it carried across the battlefield with weight that made even distant fighters pause mid-swing.

"You’re already dead."

It wasn’t a threat or a boast.

Just a statement of fact, delivered with the same certainty someone might use to describe the color of the sky.

BELIEF

The word existed only in his mind, but reality bent around it anyway.

The axe pulsed with concentrated Intent that made the air crack.

An A rank attacker charged, his Aura-enhanced fist aimed at Damian’s chest with enough force to rupture organs.

Damian’s axe came up in a rising arc.

SSSHHHHUNK

The blade passed through the man’s Aura defense like it didn’t exist, through his arm, through his torso, through his head. The body separated into pieces before it hit ground.

One strike. One kill.

Another A rank attacked from behind, sword raised.

Damian spun, his axe moving in a horizontal sweep.

SSSHHHHUNK

The attacker split at the waist, upper body sliding off lower half, organs spilling.

One strike. One kill.

Three more came together, their Auras combining into a coordinated technique.

Damian’s axe moved three times in rapid succession, each strike carrying the same absolute conviction, each one believing completely that it would be the final blow.

SSSHHHHUNK SSSHHHHUNK SSSHHHHUNK

Three bodies fell in pieces.

One strike. One strike. One strike.

The surviving A ranks backed away, their faces showing genuine fear now. This wasn’t just skill, this wasn’t just power, this was something fundamental, something that violated the natural order of combat.

"How..." one whispered, his voice cracking. "How is this possible?"

How could a B rank awakener kill A ranks with single strikes?

How could Intent alone pierce through superior Aura defenses?

How could belief become weapon?

Damian didn’t give them time to process.

He moved through them like death itself, his axe never stopping, each strike carrying the weight of absolute conviction. Bodies fell, blood flew and screams were cut short.

But they were learning, adapting, staying at range, using projectile techniques to avoid close combat.

A boulder lifted through telekinesis struck Damian’s chest, sending him flying backward.

He crashed through burning rubble, his ribs cracking despite his healing.

Three A ranks launched long-range attacks simultaneously.

Fire... Ice... Lightning. The skill converged on his position.

Sonic Blink.

He vanished before the attacks connected. They exploded where he’d been standing, creating a crater, destroying ground.

He reappeared mid-air, having jumped, his axe raised overhead.

Aura Magnification: 2x

His Aura blazed brighter again, his strength doubling, his entire body glowing with crimson light.

"DIE!"

The axe came down with force that split air itself.

BOOOOM

The impact created a shockwave that flattened everything in a ten-meter radius. Three A ranks died instantly, their bodies pulverized by the concentrated force.

Damian landed in the crater he’d created, blood pouring from his mouth, his body pushed beyond safe limits.

’Can’t... sustain this... burning through Aura too fast...’