Chapter 161: Damien says, bow or die.
Darkness was beginning to fall when Damien stumbled into the Stone village like hunted animal, legs shaking beneath him, sweat rolling down his brow, his chest heaving in ragged bursts. His knees gave away, and he collapsed on the dusty earth with a heavy thud.
The villagers were around a bonfire, around a high open tent, preparing to have simple vegetable soup and oat cakes for dinner.
Damien’s sudden return startled them. He appeared to be in bad shape and this made their hearts beat faster. As they could not see the others he had gone with on the hunt, worry gnawed at them and they rushed forward.
"Dami." His wife screamed.
Some village women pulled her back as the chief, and his men surrounded Damien.
"He must be scared after seeing an animal in the forest." One man said.
Some laughed and many sneered.
"Quiet!" The chief ordered, his instincts screamed that something was wrong.
"Water!" Damien gasped, voice hoarse, his throat rasping as though fire had scorched it.
A young boy darted off and returned with a cup. Damien seized it, tilting it to his lips, water spilling down his chin as he gulped greedily. The cup trembled in his hands as he drained it dry.
"Blood!" Someone gasped.
A few carried wood torches closer and they got a closer look at Damien. They saw the blood which had drenched his shirt and suddenly, the situation as not as funny as it once was.
Silence fell heavy on the compound. The villagers suddenly raised their voices with questions about the others. Some broke away from the crowd and ran to the edge of the village.
The village chief did not stop them. He looked at Damien through worried suspicious eyes and asked, "What has happened, Damien? Why have you returned alone? Where are the others? Where is my son Morris?"
The same question echoed in some minds. The other elders of the village shifted uneasily. All eyes pierced through Damien, seeking answers, clinging to hope.
But the look in his eyes crushed their hope before his lips moved. It was hollow. Haunted. Empty. His face was pale, his jaw clenched tight, and when he finally spoken his voice carried the weight of death itself.
"They are all dead." Damien whispered. "The mist killed them. Every last one.... even Morris."
A high-pitched scream from Buck’s mother nearly shattered the sky.
A strangled cry escaped the chief’s wife, the chief’s weathered hands trembled as he staggered, he staggered back. Murmurs erupted. Shocked gasps, whispers laced with grief and disbelief.
Women placed their palms to their mouths. Children buried their faces in skirts.
"And you?" One villager dared to ask. "How did you survive when the others did not."
Damien’s lips twisted into a tiny bitter smile, his voice cracked as he muttered, "Because like you all say, I am a coward. And cowards.... live longer. I ran."
The words fell like stones in the silence, no one knew how to respond.
Before questions could grow sharper, Damien rose unsteadily and turned his back to the murmuring crowd.
His legs carried him towards the house at the edge of the village. His movements were purposeful now, stronger, though he still bore the mask of exhaustion.
Avenn, curious and uneasy, followed after him and found him searching for something. "What is happening, Damien?" He asked carefully. "You do not seem.....the same. Why is there blood on your shirt?"
Damien’s shoulders rose and fell. He flexed his fingers, clenched his fists, then moved suddenly--too suddenly. His body blurred, a flicker of motion so sharp it left Avenn reeling.
He stopped in front of Avenn, grinning with his arms spreads out. "I have awakened," he said, voice firm, power coursing through his words. "My body is fast....as fast as lightening. You can call me flash."
Blinking in disbelief, Avenn took a step back. "How did it happen?"
Damien shrugged. "I don’t know but I think it was the mist. That bastard Morris stabbed me." He raised his shirt to show Avenn the wound which was healing quickly. "When I was falling to the ground, the mist came and engulfed us all. I was the only one that survived, it did not kill me, it changed me. And now..." he reached for the weapon hidden under the water pot. "Now that I am a superhuman, it’s time to take over this village."
The steel gleamed cold in his hand: A gun that they had been hiding since they arrived. A rear super weapon in a peaceful village where blades and Spears ruled.
With grimaced determination, Damien stormed out of the house. Avenn trailing helplessly, strongly against the idea urged him to stop and think carefully.
But nothing would stop Damien, right now the villagers were weak, confused and broken, there would never be a better time to take them by surprise.
The villagers turned as he emerged into the compound once more, questions on their lips. Instead, they saw a man with an evil smile, gun raised, eyes fierce with the hunger for power.
"Listen up people, I am the new village chief." Damien declared, voice ringing with venom. "Bow to me or.... die."
He put the gun away and zipped around, confiscating knives, kicking, slapping anyone who looked skeptical. His speed was phenomenal, and his laughter mocked them.
Resistance was futile as he threw fire torches at the strongest men in the village, sending everyone in a panic.
Finally, he stopped with the theatrics and stood in front with his arms crossed on his chest and his eyes dripping with pride.
"I am now the leader of this shitty village, and it will be renamed Damienville. You can either bow or be bounced." He declared loudly. "There will be new rules under my reign as your king. Nobody will eat or drink anything without my permission.
There shall be no more village gatherings around bonfires where you scheme and whisper. Everyone will be in doors before 7:00 p.m.
All children under fifteen will be taken from their parents and raised by me." He tilted his head. "I must groom them to be good little workers and eliminate the poison you fed them with about me."
Women gasped, men raised their voices.
The village chief raised his hand, calling for calm and silence.
Damien gestured to the ground. "You know what to do to enter my good graces."
He expected them to kneel, but the villagers held silence mostly, with the exception of the scared, sniffling children.
The elders stood unmoving lined and stoic, their eyes unwavering. The chief himself raised his chin despite his grief.
"We bow to no man except the rightful chief of the village," One elder said. His voice was shaky but with a bit of firmness.
Damien’s lips curved in a cruel smile. He uncrossed his hands and turned the gun on the elder. He had long wanted to kill off some of these villagers and the opportunity had finally presented itself.
He would need to make an example of a few in order to keep the others in line.
Damien’s eyes hardened. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the trigger.