Chapter 11: Demon of Speed

Ser Hughway opened his mouth, a sharp warning pressing against his teeth.

Every protective instinct honed over decades of service screamed at him to step forward, to grab his young master by the shoulder and forbid him from descending into the dark alone.

Hughway was the Commander of the Guard for the Lucerion Barony, a veteran Sword Master who had watched Craig grow from a quiet, overlooked child into a young lord.

In his heart, he did not merely view the Seventh Young Master as his liege—he cared for him as his own flesh and blood.

He was a man who would gladly lay down his life, take a thousand blades, or burn in dragon fire to keep the boy safe.

Yet, as he looked at Craig’s back, Hughway felt his voice die in his throat.

The quiet, unquestionable authority radiating from the youth was not that of a green, fifteen-year-old noble throwing a foolish tantrum.

It was the absolute, crushing presence of a commander who had walked through hell and brought armies out the other side.

Hughway slowly closed his mouth, his gauntleted hand slipping away from his sword hilt.

He took a heavy step back and lowered his head in silent submission.

The surrounding guards and the two Sword Runner knights watched the exchange in stunned silence.

Their eyes darted from the gaping, black hatch on the ground back to their Lord Commander.

If Ser Hughway—the highest military authority in the territory, a seasoned Sword Master who possessed the right to advise the young master—could not retort and chose to obey without a word, who were they to question?

No one dared to breathe.

They simply watched as the tall, crimson-haired youth dissolved into the shadows of the subterranean stairway, his footsteps echoing softly into the deep.

The air inside the underground prison was thick, cold, and heavy with a suffocating pressure.

Normally, the raw abyssal mana leaking from a captured monster would act as an invisible, corrosive smog.

A standard mortal human descending into this passage would have felt their lungs burn, their skin itch, and their mind cloud with intense nausea within seconds.

Even an unawakened Superhuman would have needed to exert significant effort to keep the ambient toxicity from corrupting their blood.

Craig, however, continued his descent with slow, measured steps, his breathing completely light and even.

He drew a long breath through his nose, pulling the stagnant, sulfur-laced air deep into his lungs.

Instead of feeling poisoned, a strange, warm sensation bloomed at the center of his chest.

His unignited Dragon Heart pulsed, and his veins throbbed with a comfortable, rhythmic heat.

The moment the volatile abyssal energy crossed into his lungs, his Divine Draconic Physique acted like an absolute filter.

His body instinctively diluted the corrupted mana, stripping away its madness and converting the raw radiation into a pristine stream of energy that flowed straight into his core.

’This Divine Draconic Physique really is something else, as expected of a Special-Grade Talent’ Craig smiled, a dark glint flickering in his golden eyes.

’What is a toxic curse to most men is nothing more than free fuel to me.’

His boots finally hit the flat stone floor of the subterranean corridor.

Craig walked down the central hallway.

On either side, thick iron bars separated the passage from dozens of pitch-black cells.

The underground facility had been engineered to hold both high-tier monsters and rogue Superhuman criminals, but since the Lucerion Barony was a quiet frontier territory, the vast majority of the cages sat empty, their iron doors hanging open.

Iron sconces mounted along the stone walls held flickering torches, casting long, dancing shadows across the damp floorboards.

He walked past seven empty cells before his movements came to a sudden halt.

A low, guttural growl vibrated through the stone floor, making the dust dance near his boots.

Craig turned his head slowly, looking through the heavy iron bars of the cage to his right.

Bound to the far wall by massive, rune-carved iron chains sat the captured 1st-Tier Abomination.

The creature was badly battered, its grey hide caked in dried blood and deep lacerations from its capture days ago.

Yet, despite its wounds, its ferocity remained completely untouched.

It was a three-horned, scale-covered feline—a beast the size of a warhorse, covered in coarse black fur that seemed to swallow the light. Its grey, slit-pupiled eyes locked onto Craig the moment he stepped into view.

It bared two pairs of razor-sharp, yellowed fangs, thrashing against its bindings so violently that the iron chains rattled deafeningly against the stone pillars.

A deep, visceral bloodlust flooded the corridor.

Craig stared at the thrashing beast, his eyes narrowing as a cold, dangerous smile slowly curled the corners of his lips.

"The Demon of Speed..." Craig whispered, his voice smooth and devoid of fear.

He recognized this monster instantly.

In his past life, after he had been poisoned by Arya and left for the City of Dragons to take part in the Dragon’s Calling Ceremony, Ser Hughway and the elite knights had departed alongside him to ensure his safety on the road.

They had left the Lucerion Barony largely undefended.

During that exact window of vulnerability, this 1st-Tier Abomination had managed to gnaw through its weakened chains, break out of this very dungeon, and slaughter every guard left behind.

It had rampaged through the towns, butchering hundreds of innocent civilians before vanishing into the dark depths of the untamed wilderness.

Fifteen years later, that same creature resurfaced during the early pushes of the war.

By then, it had evolved into a terrifying 5th-Tier Abomination, earning the moniker Demon of Speed.

It was a beast so blindingly fast that it could bypass defensive barriers in the blink of an eye, decapitating entire platoons of Rankers before anyone could draw a blade.

Craig remembered it all too well.

In his past timeline, he had personally led an army of two thousand men to hunt down the Demon of Speed after it laid waste to a vital supply line in the West.

That battle had turned into a horrific meat grinder.

He had lost hundreds of good soldiers, nearly dying himself before they finally managed to put the abomination down.

The creature’s unique trait was simple, absolute, and terrifying:

Speed!

As a 5th-Tier monster, its speed was a conceptual force that defied normal combat logic.

But here... right now... sitting inside this dark cell as a battered 1st-Tier beast, it was still weak.

It was still mortal.

It was still something that could be killed with a single stroke.

"It really is a blessing that I regressed," Craig exhaled softly, his voice dropping an octave as his hand moved to his hip.

CLACK.

He pressed his thumb against the guard, smoothly unsheathing his longsword.

The polished steel gleamed brightly under the flickering torchlight, reflecting the cold, merciless light in his golden eyes.

He didn’t stand outside the bars. He didn’t wait for guards to assist him.

Craig reached out with his left hand, grabbed the heavy iron latch of the cell door, and pulled it open with a deep, creaking groan.

He stepped directly into the cage, stepping into the creature’s strike zone without the slightest hesitation.

The feline beast let out an ear-splitting shriek, its grey eyes flashing with wild, predatory joy as it saw the prey walk straight toward it.

It coiled its muscular hind legs, preparing to tear the young noble’s throat out the second he got within reach.

Instead of striking, Craig stepped forward and swung his blade in two lightning-fast arcs.

CLANG! CLANG!

Sparks flew wildly into the dark as his steel severed the heavy iron chains binding the creature’s forelegs.

The heavy shackles crashed to the floor, setting the 1st-Tier Abomination completely free.

The beast landed softly on its padded, clawed paws, its back arching as it let out a low, menacing hiss, astonished that its bindings had been cut.

It shook its three horned head, its grey eyes locking onto Craig with pure, unadulterated killing intent.

Craig held his sword low at his side, his posture completely relaxed, his crimson hair swaying gently in the cold draft.

"This time," Craig said quietly, his golden eyes igniting with a primordial crimson hue,

"I’ll kill you properly."