Chapter 1: The Cry
The boy lay in his mother's arms, her gaze never once leaving his face. Even in the depths of insanity, his features held an eerie beauty sharp, youthful, almost divine. His eyes shimmered a deep crimson, and his long, spiked hair framed a face that looked both fragile and terrifyingly calm.
His name was Damon Rim, the Child of Insanity.
His mother, Dora, stroked his hair gently as she sang a broken lullaby, her voice trembling between sorrow and hope. Tears slid down her cheeks, falling on his pale skin.
"Please… call to me, my sweet boy," she whispered.
She lingered there for a moment longer, she rose to her feet and stepped into the washroom, her soft sobs fading behind the door.
Then, silence.
A hum rippled through the air. The heavens darkened. The once clear sky turned blood red, and the world trembled beneath its light. Every creature under that crimson glow began to shriek, clawing at themselves in madness.
Within the Void Mansion, the servants fell to their knees in terror. The air itself burned.
On his bed, Damon's eyes opened.
A spark of life and death flared within them. Then came laughter, dark and unrestrained.
"Hahaha! I'm alive!"
The sound echoed through the mansion like a curse.
Before he could rise, someone threw their arms around him with a cry of joy. "My boy, it's me Mama! Don't worry, this time I'll protect you!"
Damon froze for a heartbeat. He knew that voice. He had lived in this body for sixteen long years, trapped in silence, watching through broken eyes. The woman before him was his mother his flesh and blood in this life.
"Mother," he said softly, smiling faintly. "Do not trouble yourself."
Dora gasped. It was the first time he had called her Mother. The word alone shattered her restraint. Tears spilled freely as she clutched him tighter. For the first time in years, she saw life return to her son's eyes clarity where there had only been madness.
But the warmth didn't last.
"Why still conceal yourself?" Damon asked quietly, his voice shifting, calm but edged with something dangerous.
Dora tensed, instinctively stepping back into a battle stance.
"Mother," Damon said again, his smile growing colder. "Why strain yourself over such a rat?"
He extended his hand.
A knife that had been resting on the table flew into his palm with a flicker of invisible force. Before anyone could react, Damon moved fast, too fast appearing beside the shadow clinging to the far corner of the room.
"Don't worry," he murmured, pressing the knife forward. "I'll fish you out myself."
From the darkness, a woman emerged, two daggers gleaming in her hands. But before she could act, Damon's blade slid into her stomach, stopping just few inches from her core.
"Do you know," he whispered, veins rising along his neck, "how long I've wanted to kill you?"
"Damon, wait!" Dora cried. "That's my maid Lisa!"
Damon only smiled. "Don't worry, Mother. She'll explain everything… in front of Grandfather."
Lisa's eyes widened in disbelief. Her body trembled, but she dared not move if she shifted even a fraction, that blade would tear through her core. "Wait… don't tell me!"
The door slammed open.
An old man stepped inside, his gaze sharp enough to cut stone. Power rolled off him in waves, his bones radiating "Void Energy" so pure it made the air tremble. Damon turned to him, momentarily transfixed.
If one wasn't careful, they'd mistake him for a dragon.
"Grandfather," he murmured, almost in reverence.
Old Man Thomas didn't waste time. In a blur, he appeared before Damon. "My boy," he said, his voice deep and calm, "why did you keep this one alive?"
Lisa tried to speak "Eh !" but her words died with her.
Thomas flicked his fingers. Her head burst like a melon, splattering the wall in silence.
"My boy," he said again, turning back to Damon, "you've slumbered for so long."
He knelt, pulling his grandson into a firm embrace. Despite his terrifying power, the gesture was gentle filled with pride, with love.
Damon returned the gaze. He knew this man. The one who had visited him every night, silently mending his broken body with pure Void essence.
"Grandfather," Damon asked quietly, "where is my father?"
The air in the room shifted. Dora's hands trembled. Thomas's expression darkened.
"Your father…" Thomas began, taking a long breath. "When you were born, he challenged King Balarok to keep your life. Your father was strong he nearly killed Balarok. But then, four great powers rose striking him down during battle, that's how your talent was stolen."
Damon's eyes hardened, his jaw tightening.
"But your father Gerald is still alive, his in the hands of the "Palace of Darkness", Thomas continued, his aura flaring, shaking the mansion. "If I could!"
"Old man," Damon interrupted softly, his tone calm yet commanding. "Restrain your anger. We are not ready for war."
He turned back toward his mother, who immediately pulled him close, clutching him as though he might vanish again.
For a brief moment, Damon allowed himself to rest in her warmth.
Thomas watched silently, his heart uneasy. The boy's presence felt… different. He could sense a stillness beneath that calm a vast, unreadable power sleeping beneath his skin.
"Is this truly my grandchild?" he thought.
But then, a faint smile tugged at his lips. "I can't lie," he thought to himself. "These old bones are getting excited again."
He turned away, voice low but steady. "My boy, rest now. When you wake… I'll introduce you to someone."
Damon said nothing. He simply closed his eyes and leaned against his mother's lap, the faintest smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.
For the first time in years, there was silence in the Void Mansion. But beneath that silence… something ancient stirred something that should have been left sleeping in endless cycle of madness.
"Ohh this is going to be so much fun ha"