Transmigrated As The Perverted Young Master



For the next four or five minutes, there was only the sound of hand kissing the cheek with a lot of force.

Each slap was hurtful, and each slap was personal.

The audience cringed each time a slap was passed. It felt like bullying.

Daemon's face was a mess. His eyes had swollen, his cheeks had puffed, and his nose was bleeding.

Damien thought he was done. That there was no more energy in his little brother to strike him, but he was wrong. Very wrong. 

All of a sudden, the air around Daemon changed and his closed eyes opened, glowing purple glared at him.

It happened in a moment. Daemon's hand suddenly connected with Damien's chin, launching him into the air. He crashed on the ground with a loud thud noise. The floor made him pain.

The crowd gasped at the sudden change of events. It felt like a hero fighting back against the villain after a series of setbacks.

Daemon rose from the floor, dark energy swirling around him. "You fool," he growled. "You shouldn't have come here. You should have run away when you had the chance." He cracked his neck and knuckles, readying himself.

Damien shifted and raised himself, anchoring his hands as support. "You call that a punch, little brother?" He mocked, wiping the little drop of blood from the side of his mouth.

"Don't act like my punch wasn't painful," he said. His voice replaced the rage and humiliation with calmness and serenity. "I know it can kill a normal human."

"Ah, looks like I'm not a normal human at all," he said. "If you are done with your blabbering, come at me with all you got, little brother." He emphasized the word little brother as to provoke him and it sure did, it made Daemon icky and small.

Daemon replied to the taunt with launching at Damien, coating his hands with dark energy and pulling his hands back for a strike down at his brother.

Damien also covered both of his hands in ice, crystallizing it. Now he looks like he had two ice arms.

He didn't block the punch but rather sidestepped. He watched as Daemon's hands pass by his eyes, and with the same momentum, Damien hooked a punch to Daemon's chin.

He was sent into the air and tumbled down on the floor like a bag of rice.

This time, the people couldn't stop themselves from gasping. It was too much. They didn't know what to expect.

Daemon stood up, coughing out blood, but this time, he was smiling. "You call that a punch?"

"Wipe that blood from your mouth, brother, it's making me icky," Damien replied. He was using the oldest trick in the book, the provocation. He wanted to get under Daemon's skin and see how long it will take him to snap.

Daemon smiled and started to walk toward Damien.

"Is that all you got?"

With a defiant smile, Daemon wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes gleaming with determination. He stepped forward, his movements filled with newfound energy. The crowd watched in anticipation, unsure of what was about to unfold.

Damien braced himself, ready to face whatever Daemon had in store for him. He could see the dark energy swirling around his little brother, a menacing aura that seemed to fuel his every step. But Damien wasn't one to back down.

As Daemon closed in, his hands still coated with dark energy, Damien met him head-on. Ice arms clashed against the darkened fists, creating a clash of elemental forces. The impact sent shockwaves through the corridor, causing the spectators to gasp in awe.

They exchanged blows with ferocity, each strike landing with bone-crushing force. The sound of fists meeting flesh echoed through the air, reverberating with a raw intensity. The battle between the brothers intensified, their movements fluid yet filled with an unyielding determination.

Daemon's attacks grew more aggressive, fueled by his anger and frustration. But Damien matched him blow for blow, his ice arms providing both defense and offense. The clash of their powers created a spectacle that captivated the onlookers, drawing them deeper into the chaotic dance of combat.

The fight raged on, neither brother giving an inch. They traded punches, kicks, and devastating blows, each strike pushing their limits. Blood stained their bodies, wounds marking the testament of their fierce confrontation.

Daemon punched straight, Damien ducked and with the power of accelerating up, connected Daemon's chin. This powerful strike launched Daemon into the air. The roof cracked and Daemon crashed onto the upper floor.

The crash sent the onlookers into a frenzied state. This was not a fight for entertainment. If they laze around anymore, they could end up dead and these lordlings' don't give a shit about them. They all knew it, so they took the fainted ones and ran away. Ran away with the life they had.

Only Daenys remained on the ground, her chin was hanging as she watched the brutal confrontation. She doesn't have any words at all.

With a swift leap, Damien propelled himself toward the upper floor through the narrow crack. However, his descent was abruptly interrupted as Daemon's fist mercilessly collided with his chest, striking him mid-air. The powerful blow sent Damien hurtling through the air, crashing forcefully into the adjacent room, causing debris to scatter in his wake.

"Oh, this is fun, really, really fun," Damien chuckled, dusting off the debris from his body. He looked like a warrior who just had a glorious battle.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Daemon's voice echoed through the room as he charged at Damien, his fists coated with dark energy.

...

In a different room in the castle, Daeron was sorting the documents. Damien's help, though short, had helped him big time.

He was startled when, all of a sudden, the castle shook violently for a second. 

He quickly ducked under the table, thinking it was an earthquake or something. "What the hell? Is that an earthquake?" He hugged his knees and waited for it to be over.

After a moment, thinking it was over, he peered through the table and reached out on the floor to propel up, but again, all of a sudden, the cattle shook. Document and parchment fell onto his head. Just as quickly, he drew back to his hiding spot, rubbing his head.

The door to his office suddenly burst open and someone slithered in.

"My lord!" he called out. It was Luther. "Where are you? We're in a mess. You need to come now!" His voice was loud and hoarse.

"What is it? Why are you screaming?" Daeron asked from under the desk.

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