Chapter 229: Limit Breaker

“Lord Dominic attempted to contact you.”

Damien arched a brow.

“Did he now?”

She nodded once. “When you were inside.”

“And?”

“I answered.”

He looked at her—still calm.

And Elysia, who had spent the last three years perfecting the art of neutrality, felt a flicker of heat climb her neck. Barely visible. Almost nonexistent.

She stood straight. Expression level.

“I did not tell him anything.”

Damien’s gaze lingered a moment longer.

Then he looked back toward the canyon.

Damien turned his gaze back toward her.

And this time—

He smiled.

Not his usual smirk. Not the sharp, knowing curl of lips that hinted at schemes or superiority.

This was different.

Small. Quiet. Unforced.

But it carried weight.

Gratitude.

Recognition.

Trust.

“Good,” he said.

Just that.

But the way he said it—

It wasn’t just approval. It was acknowledgment. An understanding passed not through titles or roles, but through something older. Something forged under pressure, across silence, between those who had walked through danger and returned changed.

Elysia’s chest tightened.

It was barely perceptible. A flutter. A drop in temperature—or maybe a spike. Something that registered more in her breath than her blood.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

But she felt it.

That smile—

It stirred something.

Smiling. For her.

She suppressed the reaction with practiced ease, her face a perfect mask of calm.

But behind her eyes—

A ripple.

Nothing spoken. Nothing shown.

Just the faintest flicker.

Since she had acknowledged it, now these feelings grew further.

*****

Elysia mounted the Hollow Fang in one smooth motion. The compact frame adjusted beneath her, the mana-core whirring to life with a quiet hum—sleek, almost respectful, like it understood who was riding it.

Damien stepped on behind her, his motion slower but still sure. He placed his hands lightly at the grip edge, letting the frame sync with the shape of his body. The seat recognized him instantly—mana threads folding inward, adapting to the changed weight, the new density.

A soft pulse flickered through the vehicle as the stabilizer caught the terrain.

And then—without a word—Elysia accelerated.

WHMMMP.

The world blurred.

They moved fast. The wind pressed against Damien’s skin, rushing past him in streaks of mountain air and faded tension. Each bump and angle of the path was absorbed by the Fang’s suspension—Elford engineering at its best. The same piece of tech the original Damien had once failed to control now answered to him like it had always been waiting.

But Damien’s mind wasn’t on the ride.

It wasn’t on the view or the silence between them.

It was on one word.

Father.

‘Dominic called me?’

His brows furrowed slightly, the wind flattening the sound of his breath.

Why?

What did the man want?

He wasn’t the type to reach out without a reason. Especially not to him. Not unless something was changing. Or something had gone wrong. Or…

Or he’d noticed.

‘Does he know I left the city?’

No. That shouldn’t matter. Damien had done this clean. Untraced vehicle. No guards. No system pings. Nothing tied to Cradle operations. No reason to suspect anything important.

Unless…

Unless Dominic had just got a gut reaction.

‘No, don’t overthink.’

It was possible. Likely, even.

Not because Damien had done anything wrong, but because he had started to move.

Started to change.

And Dominic Elford didn’t miss movement.

‘Maybe it’s business-related. Something with Elford-Tech. Cradle developments. Or the new council proposal on mana-conduction patents.’

That was always the excuse.

It’d make sense, too—especially with the restructuring this quarter. Damien had seen the reports; three minor departments reclassified, and that new partnership brewing between the Cradle’s war-division and Celia’s family’s mana-engineering group.

‘Maybe he wants to see if I’m useful again.’

The idea didn’t sting.

It was logical. Cold.

And accurate.

He had changed.

Too much to ignore.

Even if Dominic hadn’t sensed the legacy—he’d definitely sensed the shift in behavior.

But whether it was a test, a summons, or a trap…

None of it mattered right now.

It wasn’t the priority.

Damien’s eyes narrowed slightly as the Hollow Fang coasted along the cliffside pass, city lights beginning to flicker in the distant haze below.

There was still something more important to confirm.

‘Now let me check the changes.’

The bike cut through the canyon’s final stretch, wind shearing past Damien’s skin as the Hollow Fang surged toward civilization. The hum of mana-conductive engines underscored the quiet between him and Elysia, but Damien’s focus had already turned inward.

‘Now… let me check the changes.’

His eyes half-closed as he whispered the command.

“Status.”

The golden overlay blinked into place across his vision.

———————————————

[STATUS] [Synchronization: Complete]

▶ Name: Damien Elford

▶ Age: 17

▶ Level: 5

▶ SP: 800

Traits:

[Reforged One]

[Does Not Bend]

[Singularity]

[Sociopath]

[Anarchist]

[Neural Predator]

[Limit Breaker] ★ (New)

Passive Skills:

[Merchant’s Intuition]

[Physique of Resistance]

[Predatory Focus]

———————————————

There it was.

The new trait.

——————-

[Limit Breaker]

Description: When faced with a situation where death or irreversible failure is inevitable, the host’s physical and mental capabilities can forcibly exceed their current limits.

— This effect is not chosen. It is triggered.

— The greater the threat, the stronger the response.

— Cannot be stacked. Cannot be duplicated. Cannot be tamed.

This is not enhancement. This is refusal.

—————–

Damien exhaled slowly, the corners of his mouth curling.

‘So it’s real. Not a metaphor. Not theory.’

He had seen it once in the game, tucked deep in forum logs and modded playthroughs. Back then, it was just a curiosity—a lost line of code from a build that was never patched correctly.

But now it was in him.

A fuse that only lit when the world tried to smother it.

And the +1s?

Not cosmetic. Not bonus equipment stats. But the legacy-touched density threaded into his core. A product of enduring pressure not meant for mortals. Evidence that his Physique of Resistance was still evolving—not statically, but organically, under stress.

He leaned back slightly behind Elysia, one hand bracing against the ride, the other curling into a quiet, satisfied fist.

He leaned back slightly behind Elysia, one hand bracing against the ride, the other curling into a quiet, satisfied fist.

‘A weapon that gets stronger the harder it’s pushed. Fitting.’

This wasn’t some overpowered cheat. It was a last resort. A break-glass option wired into the bones. The system hadn’t handed him power—it had watched him earn it.

And now?

Now he had something most elites could only simulate with pills, buffs, and borrowed divine favors:

His own narrative.

The world didn’t bend for him yet.

But now, it would have to brace when he walked.

And he was just getting started.