SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God Chapter 690 The Forest of Doom

After slipping into simple attire, Damon swiftly departed from the grotto. He aimed to grant the others room to unwind and recover from their state. Beyond that, though, his urge for combat burned strong. The intense kind of thrill.

Even though the cozy and stabilizing interactions with those three had felt so reassuring, the anxiety deep within him refused to vanish completely. The world shifted at an alarming speed. Power disparities grew vast in a single night, regulations altered without notice, and spectacles such as the Golden Throne served no playful purpose.

Such trials acted as filters to divide the mighty from the lost and the deceased. Damon sensed it deep in his core. Indulging in ease too much posed real risks, a rare indulgence indeed.

Nothing but rigorous, savage, and dedicated practice could soothe that nagging tension in his heart. He strode away from the campsite, one foot after another, until the chatter and chuckles faded into the distance. The wild expanse greeted him with quiet stillness.

This felt like his true domain. His mind sharpened instantly. Free from interruptions. Free from pressures. Purely driven by hard work and its results. Damon shrugged his shoulders, breathed out deeply, and allowed a hint of his aura to seep forth, probing the area. Close by, a potent presence awakened. Perfect. Since the days ahead promised chaos, he would face them solely through relentless self-honing, turning the unknown into something certain.

Damon's form vanished without a sound as he shadow stepped right behind a massive salamander. The creature boasted three heads, each with keen, alert eyes. It ranked at the pinnacle of C class. Yet, those gazes revealed far greater cunning than expected.

This stemmed from the fact that the monster wasn't ordinary. It carried a partial bond with another spirit. And not merely any spirit—it linked to a remnant from the Great War. Ancient texts described how, eons ago when this realm first emerged, a colossal conflict erupted among every race.

Forces of light and darkness clashed fiercely in that age, ravaging the land and etching wounds that lingered eternally. Shattered lands. Fractured principles. And spirits that defied oblivion, latching onto creatures, artifacts, and forsaken spots instead.

This went beyond mere takeover. Chronicles noted that local beasts fully fused with these wandering, wrathful essences, ultimately twisting into grotesque horrors with erratic surges in might and ferocity.

They embodied living terrors, stuck between true life and full death. Memories of battle haunted them. Hatred fueled them. Unlike typical beasts, they adapted and drew on their robust bodies to unleash devastating force.

Free from corruption or decay, their psyches remained largely whole amid the fury and insanity that consumed them. Numerous tamers had attempted to mimic this beastly fusion for bolstering their own forces, yet none achieved it to date.

Accounts spoke of a unique array in the wilds that enabled all this. Skeptics dismissed the idea as nonsense, arguing instead that the soaked blood in the soil and lingering curses from the fights spontaneously spawned these monstrosities. Phenomena like this occurred solely in these wilds, impossible to duplicate elsewhere. Fears of expansion proved unfounded too.

Though the wilds' mysteries eluded full understanding so far, the containment aspect held true, prompting the dark faction to cordon off the zone as the Forest of Doom and abandon it. The creatures showed no inclination to stray beyond their territory, easing concerns.

Damon paid little heed to such lore. He sought formidable foes, and this region brimmed with them. That sufficed. He studied the monster ahead with keen attention. Rumors had reached him before, but encountering an abomination firsthand marked a novelty. He pondered the true extent of a top-tier C rank one's power.

He advanced a single step.

The salamander reacted in a flash.

The earth exploded under its front legs' impact, sending glowing cracks snaking out in rough patterns. One head unleashed a tight burst of flames thick enough to twist the atmosphere, as the next let loose a deep rumble that shook bones and energy flows, a blast designed to shatter focus and spellwork.

Damon blinked out of sight, rematerializing beyond the flame's reach. The third head whipped in his direction, its stare tightening with eerie precision. The beast held its ground. It lunged forward.

Its frame blurred into a rush of searing speed, far exceeding standard C-rank limits. Damon rooted his stance and confronted it directly, channeling blood power into his arms for a hardened fist aimed at the creature's torso.

The salamander slid back, gouging a furrow across rock and dirt, yet it stayed upright. It braced itself, hide flaring hotter as it recalibrated its form, balance, and rhythm. The soil under Damon turned to sludge from the tail's strike, sparking a late-blooming blast to ensnare and burn. Damon vaulted skyward in response, spinning while darkness coiled around his feet.

He plummeted like a weapon. His foot heel-smashed onto a head, bolstered by shadow and blood. Armor cracked apart, and the skull pounded the ground with a thunderous crash.

Activating his poison aura might have wrapped up the clash already, but he held back for now. He preferred honing his other abilities, avoiding overdependence on toxins.

The monster howled in pain. The surviving heads synced seamlessly, one snapping to bite high as the other spewed a twisting jet of fierce fire. Plain fire it was, yet the intensity packed within stunned him.

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