The words landed like heavy stones, but no one moved in response.
They remained rooted to the spot, sweat trickling down their foreheads.
Their hands trembled slightly as they gripped their weapons.
Their breathing had become uneven.
Every single one of them stared at Damien as if they were looking at a monster wearing human skin.
Inside their minds, the exact same thought echoed over and over again.
He's so strong!
It wasn't normal.
No human should move like that.
And no human should be able to send grown men flying with casual punches.
It was like they were watching a scene from a movie.
The bald headed man swallowed hard.
A cold shiver ran down his spine as he stared at Damien's relaxed figure.
Moments ago, the man had seemed like easy prey.
Now… he looked like something far more terrifying.
Damien suddenly chuckled.
The soft sound caused several of them to flinch.
"Well?" he said, tilting his head slightly.
His golden-flecked eyes scanned their frozen figures with amusement.
"Are you not going to fight again?"
His tone was almost playful.
The bald man shook in rage, clenching his fists so hard, his knuckles turned white.
Fear and rage clashed violently inside his chest.
Then suddenly—
"AAAAAAH!"
He let out a furious roar and charged forward.
However, he flung the club away and grabbed one of the fallen cutlasses on the ground.
The blade gleamed faintly as he swung it upward with all his strength, aiming directly for Damien's head.
The attack was wild, fueled by pure frustration.
But Damien merely shifted his weight slightly, and the cutlass sliced through the air beside him, missing him completely.
He yawned again, not even bothering to hide his boredom.
The bald man staggered a few steps after his attack missed, his boots scraping harshly against the pavement as he struggled to regain his footing.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
Heavy breaths tore out of his lungs as he glared at Damien with bloodshot eyes.
"Damn you…!" he panted, tightening his grip around the cutlass in his trembling hands. "Stop dodging and fight like a real man!"
Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted the words.
The frustration in his voice was impossible to hide.
Every single attack they had thrown had missed. Every swing, every strike, every desperate attempt to hurt the man standing before them had been casually avoided like it meant nothing.
It was humiliating, utterly humiliating.
Damien slowly lowered his hand after finishing his yawn.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
His face twisted in annoyance and he hissed in irritation.
"This is fifteen on one…" he said flatly.
His gaze swept lazily across the group of armed men surrounding him.
Every single one of them held something meant to kill.
"And all of you are carrying weapons," Damien continued, his voice dripping with contempt.
His eyes returned to the bald man.
"You should be ashamed."
The words struck like a slap across the face.
Several of the men instinctively stiffened.
But Damien suddenly smirked, running a hand through his long black hair.
"But…" he added lazily.
His tone carried a strange amusement now.
"I'll humor you."
The bald man's brow twitched.
Damien's smirk widened.
"So you'll know the difference between us." he continued, taking a slow step forward. "The difference between a god… and a man."
What followed was silence, then the bald man exploded in rage.
"RAAAAAH!"
With a furious roar, he lunged forward again, swinging the cutlass with all the strength left in his body.
The blade whistled through the air, heading towards Damien's neck.
This time, Damien didn't move, and simply stood there as the blade came down.
CLANG!
The sharp steel slammed directly against the side of his neck.
Several of the men watching instinctively flinched.
They expected blood.
They expected the blade to slice cleanly through flesh.
But instead—
A metallic sound echoed through the street, and the cutlass bounced off, not even leaving a single scratch.
It was like it had struck steel instead of flesh.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
The bald man froze, and his eyes slowly widened in shock.
The cutlass slipped from his fingers, dropping to the ground with a loud clang.
He stumbled backward, his legs trembling violently.
His lips parted as he stared at Damien's neck, which was completely uninjured even though he just stood it with a cutlass.
"Mo… monster…" he whispered weakly.
His voice trembled uncontrollably.
"Monster…"
His breathing grew erratic.
"You're a monster!!"
The shout cracked through the air like a breaking branch.
Behind him, the remaining men had already begun backing away, cold sweat trickling down their faces.
Some of them were shaking so badly their weapons rattled in their hands.
Their eyes never left Damien.
Fear had completely replaced the confidence they had earlier.
Each of them now carried the same horrifying thought.
'If he wanted to… he could kill us all.'
Damien watched them retreat.
Then he smirked again.
"Come on…" he said casually.
His voice sounded almost amused.
"Didn't you say I should fight like a real man?" he continued, his eyes glowing bright gold.
At the same time, a faint golden lining pulsed around his body, like a shimmering outline hugging the surface of his skin.
This golden covering was what had deflected the cutlass moments ago.
But the men standing before him couldn't see it.
Not a single one of them could perceive the faint golden aura surrounding Damien.
Neither could they see the brilliant glow within his eyes.
To them—
Damien was simply standing there, and yet, a cutlass had bounced off his neck like his skin was iron.
This meant only one thing in their minds… they weren't facing an ordinary man, but something far worse.
Damien slowly rolled his shoulders.
A faint cracking sound echoed from his joints as he loosened his arms.
Then he raised both hands in front of him and cracked his knuckles, the sharp pops breaking the tense silence hanging over the street.
His golden eyes scanned the frightened men surrounding him, and a slow grin spread across his lips.
"I'll teach you all a lesson," he said calmly.
His voice was low, but it carried clearly through the abandoned road.
"A lesson not to accept just any mission given to you by the chairman."