"Who... who are you?" the leader of the Iron Dungeon stronghold asked, his voice wavering with a rising sense of dread.
His instincts screamed at him—something about this young man was terribly wrong.
No, not wrong—dangerous.
The way Damien had entered, like a cannonball launched from the heavens, still echoed in his bones. The crater in the wall, the heat radiating off Damien's body, the sharp, inhuman aura... everything about him triggered primal fear.
The envoy of the Blood Fang Gang didn't speak either. He stood quietly beside the throne, eyes narrowed, face ashen, observing Damien with a solemn expression. What truly unsettled him wasn't the speed of the crash—but the steam rising from Damien's body.
His skin, flayed and blackened from high-speed impact, was visibly healing in real-time, muscles knitting together, burns vanishing in puffs of steam.
It wasn't normal. It wasn't human.
It was unnatural.
A soft chuckle broke the silence.
