**Chapter 3: The Prince of Madness**
The Void Mansion, an awe-inspiring edifice of formidable grandeur, ascended majestically from its hilltop perch. Its obsidian stone façade, intricately woven with shimmering silver veins, loomed over the capital city of Martlock. Towering spires pierced the night sky, while black banners, emblazoned with the sigil of a void serpent, fluttered ominously in the brisk wind. Enchanted torches lined the corridors, their eerie violet flames flickering to life, casting elongated, shifting shadows that danced along the walls.
Within this monumental stronghold, young Damon Rim, the ten-year-old prince, reclined on his opulent four-poster bed, swathed in luxurious dark silk. His burning golden eyes mirrored the moonlight streaming through the arched window, emanating an unsettling aura—ancient and predatory, reminiscent of molten metal swirling with untapped power. The expansive chamber, befitting royalty, boasted walls lined with ancient tomes, arcane artifacts, and a massive obsidian mirror that seemed to whisper secrets when unobserved.
Yet, on this particular night, peace eluded Damon.
His small fingers clenched the sheets as memories of betrayal from his past life—as the Altrué of Madness—flooded his consciousness. Tremors coursed through his body, not from fear, but from a simmering wrath that clamored for release.
"Ha! You all dare betray me?"
His voice, resonant and venomous for a child, reverberated through the mansion like a shockwave. The walls quaked, chandeliers swayed, and somewhere in the distance, glass shattered.
He sat upright, his golden eyes aflame like twin suns illuminating the enveloping darkness.
"Me, the Altrué of Madness... reduced to this feeble flesh."
He strode to the window, his bare feet pressing against the cold marble floor. Below, the city sprawled like a sea of flickering lights, its energy—foreign yet intoxicating—pulsing through the air.
"This realm's energy... it calls to me." He licked his lips, a predator sensing its prey. "If I can claim it all for myself..."
For a decade, his mind had languished in a state of unconsciousness, while his body remained acutely aware. For ten years, he had remained oblivious to the world around him, yet he had never forgotten the treachery of the other gods, forced to endure the frailties of mortality. But now, his mind sharpened, his will unyielding.
"First, my throne. Then... this world."
His gaze lingered on Martlock, unaware of the tempest brewing in the form of a ten-year-old prince with godlike eyes.
The following day, sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the mansion's grand halls. Servants moved silently, their footsteps muffled by the plush crimson carpets, and the air brimmed with the scents of aged parchment and burning incense.
Suddenly—
BANG!
Damon's door burst open with such force that it rattled the frame.
"Evil brat! Wake up!"
In the doorway stood Ruth, a fiery eleven-year-old girl with wild auburn hair and a temper to match. The daughter of a high-ranking noble and a frequent visitor to the Void household, she possessed the audacity to treat Damon like any ordinary child.
Before Damon could react, she leaped onto his bed, attempting a full-body slam.
THUD.
Damon remained unfazed. His golden eyes flickered with mild annoyance as he effortlessly shoved her off with a single hand.
"If you took your training seriously, perhaps you would pose a genuine threat," he remarked dryly, disdain lacing his tone.
Ruth pouted but quickly regained her composure, grasping his face with both hands. "You're such a demon! Why do I even bother with you?"
Despite her words, Damon sensed the truth beneath her bravado—her desperation. She needed something from him.
And although he would never confess it, he had grown fond of her.
"Tch. What do you want, pest?" he muttered, his golden eyes narrowing.
Ruth grinned. "You're coming with me. We're heading to the royal archives!"
Damon's gilded irises gleamed with interest. Knowledge. Power.
"What are we waiting for? Let's get going."
Ruth laughed, dragging him out of bed.
And just like that, the God of Madness and his reckless companion embarked on their adventure.
They traversed the halls of the Void Clan, Ruth holding Damon's hand as they walked. She had always sensed an ominous aura surrounding him, yet instead of fearing it, she felt an inexplicable sense of safety, as though nothing could harm her in his presence.
But Damon could feel her desperation.
"Ruth, what secrets does the Hall of Archives hold?"
He inquired, maintaining a facade of indifference that flustered Ruth.
"You don't know!" she exclaimed, astonished at his seemingly naïve question. "The Hall of Archives houses the wisdom of the entire Void Clan—the techniques, our historical records, and it is rumored that our ancestors' secret techniques are hidden deep within its confines."
Ruth elaborated as they approached the Hall of Archives.
Upon arrival, they encountered an elderly man snoring beside a massive thirty-foot door. Ruth marveled at the door's imposing stature, but for Damon, the significance ran deeper. He sensed that even in slumber, the man's awareness remained fixed upon them.
"Yahh, little brats! This is a restricted area, you know!"
The old man glanced at them, his gaze lingering on Damon. "Why does this young child feel so familiar?" he pondered.
Suddenly, Ruth approached the old man. "Grandpa Thomas, we merely came to pay our respects. Ahh, Grandpa, have you grown a bit younger?" she said with a bright smile, eliciting a grin from the old man.
"Hohoho! This child is quite likable," he chuckled, casting another glance at Damon. "Young lad, who are you?" Old Man Thomas inquired.
"I am Damon Rim, the First Prince of Martlock," Damon declared, his tone dripping with arrogance.
Upon hearing the boy's introduction, Thomas's eyes widened in astonishment. "Oh my boy, is what you say true?" he asked, extending his hand toward Damon.
"Old geezer, does deafness accompany old age as well?" Damon replied with a smirk, causing Old Man Thomas to twitch in irritation. Before the elder could retort, Damon continued, "Oh well, that's not what we came for. We would like to enter the Hall of Archives."
Old Man Thomas leaned back, seizing the opportunity to regain his footing against the audacious child. "What does a child seek in the Hall of Archives?" he posed to Damon, only to be met with silence.
"Little girl, what is your name?" Thomas asked, his tone softening as though he spoke to a granddaughter.
"My name is Ruth Edger, one of the Void Nobles," she replied respectfully. Thomas smiled once more. "Come forward," he instructed, and Ruth stepped closer as he placed a token in her hand.
"This token grants you access to enter and exit through that door, but be warned—it is time-limited to one hour. Once the time is up, you will be forcefully ejected," he explained, as Ruth bowed in appreciation before departing.
This left only Damon and the old man, and annoyance flickered within Damon. "You grant her the token to the archives and leave me empty-handed?"
Old Man Thomas gave Damon a mocking look. "This child's talent has surpassed that of demons," he remarked, glancing at Damon as joy—no, something deeper, hope—filled his eyes. At that moment, Damon's annoyance fell away; his mind brushed against the thought, "Will I get the chance to witness our rise?"
"Boy, you say you are Gerald's boy?" he demanded, standing up and shouting at Damon, not allowing him to respond. "How dare you, brat! Pay your respects!" His face radiated joy, but Damon regarded the old man with a discerning gaze.
"Ah, I see this elderly man is insane," Damon exclaimed.
The remark shattered Thomas's self-satisfied demeanor. "This insolent child! Leave my presence at once!" he shouted, flinging a token in Damon's direction. He refused to allow this boy's foul words to spoil his day.
Despite the tension in the air, irritation failed to take root within him. He smiled as Damon walked away, joy swelling in his heart as he muttered, "Praise the void." As he donned a mask, as he propelled himself toward the void mansion, moving with astonishing speed that blurred the world around him.