The underground fortress was drenched in blood.
Damien stepped over the cooling corpses of the last two guards, their expressions frozen in defiant refusal even in death. They had guarded the door with their lives—not out of duty, but out of pure fear of what lay beyond it.
That was all the confirmation Damien needed.
This was it.
The leaders of the Stray Hounds were supposed to be in this room. There couldn’t be any other reason as to why the guards would protect it this way if that wasn’t the case.
Yet, as Damien pushed open the heavy steel doors and strode inside, he found only one man.
A single figure sat at a round table meant for seven, reclined in his chair, his fingers idly tapping the tabletop.
The room was spacious, lined with dark stone walls, an intricate chandelier made of enchanted crystals casting an unnatural glow across the chamber.
The long, polished wood table was covered in maps, documents, and ledgers, detailing deals, shipments, and slave trades—proof of the Stray Hounds’ crimes.
Damien’s blue eyes flicked over the scene, his silver hair shifting slightly in the faint draft that whispered through the chamber.
His focus locked onto the man who remained unfazed even as Damien made his entry.
Damien could sense his energy immediately—it was strong, far stronger than the guards outside, but not strong enough to threaten him.
Still, there was something about this man that demanded caution.
He was too calm.
Too… entertained.
“You killed the guards, all of them.” the man mused, breaking the silence.
Damien’s grip on his sword remained firm. “They didn’t give me much of a choice.”
The man exhaled, shaking his head. “Of course they didn’t. I told them to kill anyone who walked through that door.”
Damien’s gaze hardened.
His opponent had a sharp, angular face, his dark hair streaked with silver strands, making it difficult to tell his age. His golden eyes glowed faintly, filled with a dangerous amusement, as if he were watching a child throw a tantrum rather than facing a warrior who had just slaughtered his entire base.
Damien studied him carefully.
His posture was too relaxed. His breathing too steady.
This was a man unbothered by death. That was how he looked to Damien at the moment.
A man who had seen it countless times before—perhaps even caused it.
Damien took a step forward. “Identify yourself.”
The man smirked, tapping a silver ring against the wooden table. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Damien tilted his head slightly. “I’m here to punish your people for what they’ve done.”
At that, the man laughed.
Not a chuckle.
Not a scoff.
“Hahaha…” A deep, hysterical laugh that started in his chest and erupted into wild, uncontrollable amusement.
He threw his head back, his shoulders shaking, the sound bouncing off the stone walls as if Damien had just told the greatest joke in history.
“Oh, kid…” He gasped between laughs. “You’ve made a terrible mistake coming after us and killing this much of our members.”
Damien said nothing.
He simply watched.
“Hahaha…” The laughter continued, rolling through the chamber like thunder.
Then—it stopped.
Abruptly.
His head snapped forward, golden eyes locking onto Damien with a predatory glint.
And then—he moved.
The table exploded as the man launched forward, his chair flipping backward from the force.
Damien barely had time to shift into a defensive stance before the first strike came—a vicious right hook aimed directly at his jaw.
He ducked.
Swoooosh…
The fist whistled past his ear, the sheer force of it splintering the air, sending a burst of wind rippling outward.
Damien barely twisted out of range before the next attack came.
A knee—aiming for his ribs.
Damien sidestepped, letting the strike graze past, and immediately countered—his own elbow shooting forward, aiming for the man’s sternum.
The hit connected.
A heavy thud echoed through the room as Damien’s strike landed, forcing the man back a step.
But instead of wincing in pain, the man grinned.
“Not bad,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “I see why you’re cocky.”
Damien didn’t waste time with words.
He lunged.
His fist shot toward the man’s jaw, aiming to put him down immediately.
But before the blow could connect—
The man caught it.
A solid grip.
Their eyes met.
And then, with impossible speed, the man yanked Damien forward, twisting his body mid-motion and delivering a brutal elbow to his side.
Pain flared through Damien’s ribs softly.
But he didn’t flinch.
Instead, he retaliated—instantly.
A palm strike.
His hand slammed into the man’s sternum, sending him staggering back.
The impact was solid.
For the first time, the man’s grin faltered.
Slowly, he raised a hand to his mouth, rubbing his jaw, where a small trickle of blood had appeared.
His golden eyes darkened.
“Alright,” he muttered. “You’re pissing me off now.”
Damien’s stance remained steady. “I could say the same about you.”
His opponent rolled his neck, a faint crackling sound filling the air.
Power began to hum around him, the very space distorting slightly under the pressure.
“My turn,” the man said.
Damien’s eyes flickered, analyzing the shift in energy.
It was impressive—but still not enough.
Not for him.
Tap…
The man took a step forward.
Tap…
Then another.
His stance shifted—more refined now. Less reckless.
A warrior’s stance.
“I suppose I should introduce myself,” he mused. “Since you’ll be dying here anyway.”
Damien remained silent, his muscles coiled, ready for the next attack. Explore more adventures at My Virtual Library Empire
The man smirked.
“Pendalf.”
His aura surged.
“The Sixth Fang of the Stray Hounds.”
Damien’s gaze remained unreadable. His blue eyes flickered once, acknowledging the name.
Then—he moved.
A blur of motion.
Pendalf’s golden eyes widened—too late.
Bang!!
Damien’s fist crashed into his lower jaw with the force of a sledgehammer, nearly dislocating it.
The impact sent shockwaves through the air, Pendalf’s head snapping violently to the side. His entire body staggered, his footing barely holding.
“Guuhh!” He choked on the sudden force, his breath hitching as his brain struggled to process the sheer brutality of the strike.
For the first time—his confidence wavered.
The silence in the room was palpable.
Then—Damien spoke. “We can do the introductions later.”
Pendalf’s golden eyes burned with rage.