Chapter 529: Morale

[Military Police Headquarters - Giant Portal Region]

The door closed behind Damian with a soft click, sealing him inside the private room.

His boots took two more steps forward before his legs gave out completely.

The Obsidian Hide armor dissolved, black metal flowing back into his skin and vanishing as if it had never existed.

SPLASH

Blood hit the floor in a spray that painted stone crimson, the sound wet and heavy.

Thud

Damian’s knees slammed into the ground hard enough to crack tile, his hands shooting out to catch himself.

More blood poured from his mouth, thick and dark, pooling beneath him.

His entire body was a landscape of destruction.

Burns covered every inch of exposed skin, the flesh blackened and weeping, layers of tissue charred down to muscle in some places.

Deep gashes carved through his torso, blood flowing freely from wounds that should have killed him already.

And his stomach had been torn open completely, intestines spilling out in coils that glistened wet and pink.

’That last attack...’

The memory flashed through his mind with perfect clarity.

Kragzor’s massive fist coming up to meet his descending form.

’Even though only the edge of his fist touched me...’

His hands trembled as they moved to his abdomen, trying to push everything back inside.

The process sent agony lancing through his nervous system, making his vision go dark at the edges.

’It still destroyed me completely...’

His fingers slipped on blood and bile, the intestines refusing to stay where he pushed them.

’If I was my old self... This much damage would have killed me three times over...’

But his improved vitality stat held him together, refusing to let him die.

And the energy he’d gained from devouring those giant corpses inside his Domain still flowed through his system, raw power that his body converted into fuel for survival.

His self-healing skill tried to activate again, Aura flowing toward the wounds.

But the moment it touched damaged flesh–

CRACK

The energy recoiled, shattering against something that shouldn’t be there.

Damian’s jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth, blood running from his lips where he’d bitten through.

’This bloody Fist Intent...’

His eyes tracked the foreign energy wrapped around his wounds like parasitic vines, preventing regeneration and spreading deeper with every heartbeat.

’It’s not letting my self-healing skill work...’

The Intent pulsed, and fresh agony tore through him.

’Looks like I need to–’

WHOOSH

The air displaced violently as someone appeared directly in front of him.

Damian’s head lifted, his vision swimming as he tried to focus.

Helena Crane stood there, her expression unreadable, her hands empty at her sides.

"Helena..."

His voice came out as barely a whisper, rough and wet.

"Can you help–"

"Why?"

Her interruption cut clean through his request, sharp and cold.

"You alone aren’t enough for this?"

Damian stared at her face, confusion bleeding through the pain.

’She’s–’

Helena’s eyes tracked across his destroyed body.

"Don’t you have a self-healing skill of your own?" Her voice remained flat. "Why would you need my help?"

She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Let me guess... It can’t heal the residual Intent."

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Guess what? That’s exactly why healers are always needed in the military, even if you’re oh so strong to march into a portal alone."

Damian’s mouth opened, but no words emerged.

What could he even say to that?

His hands remained pressed against his stomach, holding his intestines in place, blood seeping between his fingers.

Helena let the silence sit for three heartbeats.

Then she sighed, the sound long and heavy, and moved forward.

Her hands found his shoulders, guiding him with surprising gentleness despite her harsh words.

"Come on, let’s get you on the bed."

She maneuvered his broken body toward the medical cot against the wall, supporting his weight when his legs refused to cooperate.

Damian collapsed onto the mattress, his back hitting the surface with a wet sound.

Aura erupted around Helena’s hands as her palms settled against his torso, just above the worst of the damage.

The healing energy flooded into his body, seeking out the foreign Intent wrapped around his wounds.

But the moment her power touched Krazgor’s lingering Intent, Helena’s face went pale.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she pushed harder, her Aura flaring brighter.

"Only S rank healing skills work properly against embedded Intents..."

The words came out muttered and distracted, her concentration focused entirely on the battle happening inside Damian’s body.

"I’ll teach you the principles when we get some time... But for now, just hold still..."

The foreign Intent fought back, resisting her attempts to remove it.

Helena’s breathing became labored, her Aura consumption spiking as she forced the parasitic energy out inch by agonizing inch.

’This is taking a toll on her...’

Damian watched her face grow paler with each passing second, watched the way her hands trembled from the strain.

"Helena..."

His voice emerged weak but steady.

"Why are you so angry?"

Her eyes flicked to his face, then back to her work.

"I don’t think–"

"It’s not that I’m angry."

Her interruption came soft but carrying edges.

"I’m just disappointed."

Damian’s eyebrows drew together fractionally.

"Disappointed?"

Helena’s jaw clenched, her Aura surging as she ripped another chunk of Intent free.

"There was an entire army out there and so many legendary old folks among the prospective Inquisitors."

Her voice became harder.

"And yet... A kid has to be the one to save our people while everyone just stands there watching."

Her hands pressed harder against his torso, Aura flooding deeper.

"I know many of them who could have helped, you know. People with the strength and skill to make a difference."

She paused, breathing heavy.

"But not one of them moved... Not a single damn one."

The last piece of Intent came free with a sensation like tearing fabric.

Damian’s self-healing skill activated immediately, flesh beginning to knit together at visible speed.

Helena slumped backward, her face completely drained of color, her Aura reserves nearly empty.

But her eyes remained locked on his, burning with something unreadable.

"And why did you enter in the first place?"

Her voice gained strength despite her exhaustion.

"Don’t answer me with that cool shit of ’why not?’ either... I want a real answer."

Damian watched his intestines pull back into his body cavity, the torn muscle and skin sealing over them.

When he spoke, his voice came out barely above a whisper.

"Tell me, Helena." He paused, making sure she was listening. "Why do you think that woman was able to escape the portal alive and beg for help?"

Helena’s eyes narrowed fractionally.

"You mean..."

"Krazgor was strong enough to make sure no one escaped."

Damian pushed himself up to sit, his regenerating body protesting the movement.

"He could have killed her a dozen times over and prevented her from ever reaching the exit."

His crimson eyes found Helena’s face.

"But he let her go intentionally."

Silence fell between them, heavy with implication.

Helena’s mouth opened, then closed again.

"Why would he do that?"

Damian’s hands moved to his stomach, feeling where the gash had been moments ago.

"It’s probably because he understood that the outcome of a war isn’t decided by strength and numbers alone."

He looked toward the window, toward where the portal entrances waited beyond snow and darkness.

"He knew our military leaders wouldn’t send anyone for a rescue. He knew the soldiers would be watching everything through broadcasts and reports."

His voice dropped lower.

"By doing this, he was trying to win the war before it even began. Breaking their morale, showing them that even desperate pleas for help would be met with calculated refusal."

Helena’s breathing slowed, her mind processing the implications.

"And on the off chance our leaders had decided to send people into the obvious trap..."

Damian nodded slowly.

"Krazgor was confident in his own strength as the young chief to kill them. Not to mention the giant army was still nearby and waiting."

His hair fell in front of his face.

"It was a calculated move where no matter what choice Major General Kane made, the result would have been the same."

He paused, letting Helena process the implications.

"The breaking of our morale and the death of the survivors."