SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God Chapter 661 How did you do it?

Damon’s eyes opened a fraction, pausing as he processed Blood Reign's request. "…Feel all of me?" he asked in a measured tone.

Blood Reign let out a soft giggle. "Do you trust me, my liege?"

"Yes, I do, you crazy woman," Damon replied with a light chuckle. She was the one person who had remained by his side since the very start. He owed his second chance and everything he currently possessed to her. Had she intended to harm him, she could have ended his life a thousand times by now. There was simply no reason to doubt her loyalty.

"Then permit me to link with your mind and soul for just a brief moment. A moment is all I require."

A frown creased Damon’s brow. He grasped the nature of her plan, yet the idea of granting someone total access to his mind and soul felt inherently perilous and left him feeling exposed. Was he truly prepared to offer her that level of trust?

After a moment of deliberation, Damon gave a firm nod. Despite the extreme danger involved, he chose to take the leap. His reasoning was straightforward: if this weapon spirit harbored ill intent, she would have struck long ago. There was no logical reason for her to fabricate a strange excuse to deceive him now.

"Fine, do it," Damon consented with a nod. "Just make sure you don't mess around in there."

The instant he gave his permission, his surroundings underwent a violent transformation. Blood was everywhere. A world of crimson enveloped him, making him feel as though he were drifting within a boundless, scarlet ocean.

Then, she manifested. A feminine silhouette took shape within the sea of blood before him. She leaned in, pressing her lips against his. As they kissed, the surrounding blood surged with intensity.

Suddenly, Damon’s vision flickered. The sea of blood vanished, replaced by the interior of a cold cave. The walls were jagged and uneven, scarred by ancient scratches and dark, dried streaks that Damon recognized instantly without needing to touch them.

It was blood. Ancient, dried blood.

In a corner of the cavern sat a young boy. He held his knees tightly against his chest, his ribs protruding sharply beneath his thin skin. His tattered clothes looked like rags scavenged from a corpse. One foot was completely bare, the toes turning blue from the biting chill. His hands shook slightly—not due to terror, but from a bone-deep, permanent exhaustion.

Damon felt a sharp pang in his chest at the sight of the child.

The boy remained still, his eyes vacant and staring into nothingness, as if life had already taught him that hope was a useless endeavor. Occasionally, his stomach would let out a soft growl, causing the boy to flinch as if he were embarrassed by the sound of his own hunger.

As Damon took a step forward, the cave began to tremble. The vision seemed to resist his presence, like a memory that refused to be disturbed. He went still, choosing to observe in silence. He didn't want the image to fade; he needed to understand. Where was this place, and who was this child? He felt a strange, inexplicable connection to the boy.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke his train of thought. Two men entered the cavern. Like the boy, they remained unaware of Damon’s presence, allowing him to continue his silent observation.

The men wore heavy cloaks that obscured their faces, appearing to be some form of ceremonial attire.

One of the men tossed an object onto the floor. It slid across the cold stone, stopping just a few feet from the boy. It was a piece of raw meat, still warm and dripping with blood. The boy’s body went rigid.

He did not reach for the food immediately. Instead, his eyes darted to the men’s boots and then to their shadows, calculating the distance and gauging their intent. This wasn't standard fear; it was the conditioned reflex of someone who had learned through trauma that food often carried a heavy price.

"Eat," one of the men commanded with a lazy tone.

The boy did not budge.

The second man let out a chuckle. "Look at him. Still clinging to the illusion of pride."

A brutal kick slammed into the boy’s ribs. He collapsed into a fetal position, coughing and wheezing as the air was forced from his lungs. Thin, watery blood splattered onto the stone floor as he gagged.

"Eat," the first man said again, his voice growing cold.

Slowly, the boy began to crawl forward, his movements stiff and pained. He stopped just inches away from the meat, his hand trembling as it hovered over the prize.

Five seconds passed, then ten. When no further blow came, the boy suddenly lunged, grabbing the meat and tearing into it.

"Good dog." The men laughed, missing what Damon noticed. In that fleeting second, the boy’s eyes were no longer hollow.

Damon felt a sensation like a lock snapping open within him. The cave flickered once more as time began to skip forward.

The boy became more emaciated. The shadows in the cave deepened. The men returned periodically, sometimes bringing food, sometimes not. They delivered lessons that had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with absolute obedience.

Damon bore witness to it all. He watched as the boy learned to suppress his tears. He saw him realize that while pain could be endured, weakness resulted in punishment. He watched the child come to understand that blood—whether his own or that of others—was merely a tool for survival.

Eventually, the day came when the boy stopped flinching.

As a man raised his foot for another kick, the boy reached out and caught it. The entire cave shook with violence. Damon stood frozen. This was the turning point. The boy looked up, his eyes sharp and burning with a new fire. They were no longer vacant; they were cold, filled with fury, and a refusal to ever bow again. An undeniable hunger radiated from him.

Damon’s heart hammered against his ribs and his blood began to boil. He felt a desperate urge to see the boy triumph and survive, but in the next heartbeat, the vision buckled.

The sea of blood returned, drowning the cave and pulling Damon upward, dragging him back from the recesses of his own soul. He gasped for air as he returned to reality. In the distance, lotus blooms continued to explode, and the city remained choked by creeping poison.

Blood Reign stood before him, her playful demeanor replaced by a look of shock. "My liege… just now… how did you accomplish that?"

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