The day after his survey of the shelter, Damien was in his new private chambers—Bane's former room—poring over The Sunder Codex. The theories within were brilliant, outlining strategies for exploiting weaknesses in an opponent's Origin Force Shield, but they were still just theories. He felt the ever-present hum of his post-awakening boost, a powerful current of Saupa flowing through him, and a sharp sense of impatience grew. This heightened state was a wasting asset. Every hour he spent reading was an hour he wasn't mastering the practical application of his power. He needed a live-fire exercise. He needed targets.
As if the world itself had heard his thoughts, a sharp knock came at his door. "Enter," Damien commanded.
Fred entered, his expression grim. Behind him was Kael, the manager of the Glimmer Root Farms, his face pale with agitation.
"Lord," Fred began, "Kael has an urgent report from the farm's perimeter."
"Speak," Damien said, his gaze fixing on the young farm manager.
"It's Stone-lizards, Lord," Kael said, his voice tight with anxiety. "My perimeter teams found fresh tracks and a series of new burrows less than a hundred meters from the new Iron-Vine fields. It's a full nest this time, a big one. My fighters can handle a stray, but a nesting colony… they'll tear through our defenses and poison the fields with their musk. We need a team of your best guards, Lord. We need them now."
Damien's face remained impassive, but inwardly, a cold sense of satisfaction bloomed. It was perfect. A live target. Armored. A pack hunter. The perfect diagnostic for his abilities.
"Your request for a team is denied," Damien stated simply.
Kael's face fell, confusion and fear warring for dominance. "But, Lord, the farm…"
"The farm will be secured," Damien cut him off. He turned to his comms device. "Kenji, to my chambers. Immediately." He then looked back at Kael. "Your duty is to report threats. You have done so. Now return to your post and prepare your people for the harvest. I will handle this matter personally."
Kael, stunned into silence by the sheer authority in Damien's voice, could only nod dumbly before Fred escorted him out. Moments later, Kenji the scout slipped into the room, his eyes wide with nervous energy.
"Lord?"
"Kael reports a Stone-lizard nest threatening the farms. I want you to scout the location of the primary nest cavern. Confirm their numbers, identify the matriarch, and map the entrances. Report back to me directly. Be quick, and be unseen."
"Yes, Lord," Kenji said, and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
An hour later, Kenji returned with his report. "A single, large cavern, Lord, connected by a narrow tunnel. At least two dozen lizards, maybe more in the smaller burrows. And a big one, a matriarch, easily three meters long. She's nesting near the back."
"Excellent," Damien said. He stood. "Fred, Kenji. You two are with me. Your role is to secure the entrance to the nest. You will engage nothing. You will observe. That is all."
The journey to the nest was a tense affair. They moved through the familiar, glowing farm caverns and into the dark, undeveloped tunnels beyond. The air grew damp and smelled of rock and rot. Kenji took the lead, his movements silent and sure, pointing out the fresh tracks and the claw marks on the stone walls. Finally, he stopped, holding up a hand. He pointed to a dark, jagged opening in the rock face ahead. A low, chittering sound echoed from within.
"The main entrance, Lord," Kenji whispered.
"Hold this position," Damien commanded. "Secure this tunnel. Let nothing pass. Do not enter the cavern, no matter what you hear."
Fred and Kenji took up defensive positions, their faces grim. They watched as their Lord, armed with nothing, walked calmly toward the dark maw of the nest.
Damien stepped inside. The cavern was larger than he expected, littered with gnawed bones and the refuse of the pack. The air was thick with a foul, reptilian stench. At least twenty Stone-lizards, each the size of a large dog with thick, plated hides, turned their heads towards him, their beady black eyes fixing on the intruder. In the back of the cavern, a much larger creature, the matriarch, raised her head from a clutch of leathery eggs, a low hiss escaping her powerful jaws.
The test began.
The smaller lizards surged forward, a wave of snapping jaws and armored bodies. Damien simply raised his hand, and a sleek pulse rifle shimmered into existence. It was a perfect weapon, its lines clean, its construction flawless. He shouldered it and opened fire. The rifle bucked against his shoulder, spitting bolts of blue energy into the swarm. He didn't aim for specific targets, instead testing the weapon's rate of fire and spread. He fired continuously, a stream of energy bolts tearing through the pack. He felt the drain on his Saupa, a steady, controlled expenditure, but noted with satisfaction that he never had to reload. The weapon's ammunition was as limitless as his will.
As the first wave was decimated, the larger, armored males charged, their heavy claws scrabbling on the stone floor. The pulse rifle's bolts, while effective on the smaller beasts, seemed to splash harmlessly against their thicker plating. Damien dismissed the rifle in a shower of light. In its place, he conjured a heavy, brutal-looking combat shotgun. He pumped it once and fired. A cone of fiery, incendiary pellets erupted from the barrel, slamming into the lead lizard. The pellets didn't just bounce off; they stuck, melting through its armor in sizzling, orange patches. The beast shrieked and fell, writhing as the chemical fire consumed it. He fired again and again, each blast a devastating wave of destruction, testing the weapon's area of effect and its higher Saupa cost.
Only the matriarch remained. She was fast, lunging at him with surprising agility, her jaws snapping with enough force to crush steel. He dismissed the shotgun. In the split second before her attack landed, his preferred weapon materialized in his hand: a perfectly balanced, sabre-shaped cutlass of matted black metal.
He met her charge not with brute force, but with speed and precision. He focused his Saupa, pushing it through his Origin Force Shield and into the blade. The cutlass seemed to grow darker, the air around its edge warping slightly. As the matriarch snapped at him, he sidestepped, the imbued blade flashing in a clean, swift arc. It didn't clang against her armor; it sliced through it as if it were soft leather, carving a deep, smoking gash along her flank. The beast screeched in pain and fury, its tail whipping around to shatter a rock pillar.
This was a true diagnostic. He tested his footwork, the speed of his strikes, the efficiency of his Saupa imbuement. The fight was a brutal dance, his perfect weapon against the beast's raw power. Finally, seeing an opening, he lunged forward, the cutlass a black blur, and drove it through the creature's eye socket and deep into its brain. The massive body went rigid, then crashed to the floor, twitching.
Damien stood in the center of the carnage, his breathing steady. He felt the profound drain on his energy, the deep exhaustion of his core, but also the exhilarating confidence of proven power.
He emerged from the cavern, untouched. Fred and Kenji stared at him, their faces slack with a mixture of raw terror and absolute reverence. They had seen what he could do with a powerful conjured weapon against the Maw. Now they had seen that he was the weapon.
"Collect the cores," Damien said simply, his voice cutting through their awe.
He returned to his private chambers, leaving his lieutenants to process what they had witnessed. He felt the deep ache of his expended Saupa and knew he needed to rest and replenish. He sat at his desk, analyzing the data from his combat trial, when a soft knock came at the door.
It was Elara. She carried a small tray with a single, steaming cup.
"Lord," she said, her voice a low, honeyed purr. She glided into the room, her presence filling the spartan space. "I heard the glorious news. You protected the farms single-handedly. I thought you might need a restorative after such… exertion."
She placed the cup on the desk beside him. It was a tonic of some kind, fragrant and potent. As she set it down, she leaned in, ostensibly to adjust the tray, her shoulder brushing his, her scent enveloping him for a brief moment.
"The stresses of leadership are immense," she whispered, her gaze holding his. "If you ever require aid in... recovering your strength, my skills extend beyond simple wound-tending."
Damien picked up the cup, his expression unreadable. "Your concern is noted, Elara. Leave it."
She smiled, a slow, knowing expression, and gave a small curtsy before departing, leaving him in the quiet of his room. He ignored the tonic, his mind already elsewhere. The test was a success. His weapons were effective. His control was growing. But the data also confirmed his fear. In a prolonged battle against a regenerating foe like Bane, his Saupa reserves would be his most critical, and most finite, resource. The quiet preparation had to continue.