CHAPTER 71: HUMILIATION

Brad’s eyes twitched the moment those words left Damien’s mouth.

That faint, calm tone—that detached confidence — it made his blood boil even more.

The sheer composure on Damien’s face only deepened the humiliation already eating him alive.

His fat fingers tightened into trembling fists, the knuckles whitening. His teeth ground together so loudly it was almost audible.

He had left the ceremony earlier, storming away in shame after failing to awaken anything better than a common class, but he hadn’t even made it far before Pug came running after him, panting heavily, his round face dripping with sweat.

Pug had been one of the few participants who, despite awakening early, had decided to remain in the square to watch the other awakenings.

After all, participants were free to mingle back with the rest of the crowd once their turn was over.

And that decision had turned out to be... fateful.

Pug had witnessed the blinding orange light from Damien’s awakening, and also knew he had awakened a unique grade class!

The shock had almost made him forget to breathe.

When he finally managed to drag himself away from the square, he’d found Brad sitting alone by the water trough near the village center, scowling and muttering curses under his breath.

Without hesitation, Pug had spilled everything he’d just seen.

Brad hadn’t wanted to believe it at first.

Damien? That useless piece of trash who couldn’t even afford proper clothes?

The same guy he used to mock in front of everyone?

The idea that someone like that had awakened a unique class, while he, the son of the village chief, had only gotten a common grade class, was simply too much to accept.

They’d spent a few minutes stewing in it together, and from there, the plan had formed—a stupid, petty plan born purely out of envy and pride.

If they couldn’t make Damien look weak during the ceremony, then they’d do it afterward.

They’d find him alone, taunt him, and make sure to put him in his place—anything to make themselves feel better.

But now, standing face to face with him, Brad was starting to realize something was different.

Damien’s calm posture, that faintly amused smile tugging at his lips, the way he looked down at them without even a hint of fear or hesitation—it all made Brad’s chest tighten with frustration.

He gnashed his teeth and spat out, "I don’t believe it... There’s no way trash like you awakened a unique class, and I..."

"...only awakened a common one!"

His voice echoed down the quiet street, filled with disbelief and anger.

Damien blinked once, then sighed—that same unbothered calm that only enraged Brad further.

"Well," Damien said. "That should tell you who the real trash is."

A smug smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head slightly.

"Don’t you think so?"

Pug’s mouth dropped open slightly, his eyes darting nervously between the two. Even he could feel the tension thickening in the air.

Brad’s face turned a deep shade of red, the veins in his forehead bulging.

His fists trembled at his sides as he shouted, his voice cracking with fury, "How... dare you?!"

Damien didn’t even flinch.

Brad took a step forward, his breathing growing heavier, his face twisting into something ugly and desperate.

"It doesn’t matter even if you really awakened a unique class!" he spat, saliva flying from his lips.

"I’ll show you—" his voice rose to a hoarse roar, "—the difference between us!"

His foot slammed into the ground as he lunged forward, his entire body trembling with anger and humiliation.

Damien’s eyes, however, remained calm.

He could already tell exactly what Brad was about to do—and the thought alone made his smirk widen slightly.

"Dash!" Brad roared, his voice echoing furiously through the narrow village street.

His fat body lunged forward, propelled by the boost from dash, his entire weight thrown behind a single, furious punch aimed straight for Damien’s face.

Dust flew up from the ground as his feet slammed against the earth, his massive belly wobbling violently with each stride.

To him, it felt fast—blindingly fast, even. The kind of speed that could crush anyone who dared stand in front of him.

But to Damien...

It was laughably slow.

He didn’t even move. He just watched—his eyes detached, as if observing a child’s tantrum.

The punch tore through the air, but in Damien’s eyes, every movement was sluggish, predictable. The way Brad’s shoulders twisted, the swing of his arm, the lack of balance in his stance—everything screamed amateur.

’Too slow,’ Damien thought calmly, his gaze sharp as he tilted his head slightly to one side. ’Way too slow.’

The difference between them wasn’t just strength—it was experience.

Brad might have thought himself skilled, but Damien’s soul carried the countless battles and training regimens of his past lives.

Compared to that, Brad’s clumsy rush was nothing more than a pathetic attempt.

He didn’t even wait for the punch to reach him.

With a smooth, fluid motion, Damien bent his knees slightly and drove his right fist upward in a clean, perfect uppercut.

The strike connected squarely with Brad’s chin.

A sharp crack echoed through the quiet street.

Brad’s eyes went wide—the shock freezing on his face for an instant before his body was launched off the ground.

His feet left the dirt path, his flabby frame flying helplessly through the air like a ragdoll before crashing down several meters away with a thunderous thud.

He rolled once, twice, before finally sliding to a halt face-up in the dirt.

The street fell silent.

Pug’s mouth hung open, his round eyes bulging as he watched the scene unfold in disbelief.

Brad’s chin was swollen, already turning red and purple, his lips twitching faintly. His eyes were closed, consciousness gone, the faint sound of a wheeze escaping his lips.

One hit.

That was all it took.

Damien straightened slowly, his eyes still on Brad’s crumpled body. The faint smirk that spread across his lips was cold—satisfied.

"That felt..." he muttered softly, dusting his hand against his trousers, "...better than I expected."

There was a trace of relief in his voice, as though something deep within him had just been released.

Even though he was no longer the same Damien who had once been bullied by Brad, the memories of that life still lingered within him.

The pain, the humiliation, the helplessness—it was still there, buried deep inside the person he had become.

He remembered vividly how, when he first arrived in this world, he’d tried to throw a punch at Brad.

Back then, the weak body of the one Damien failed him, causing his uppercut to miss by a hairbreadth.

But now...

Now he had finally delivered that punch.

He exhaled, his smirk widening just a little as he looked down at Brad’s unconscious form.

Then, Damien turned his head to the side.

Pug was still there, trembling uncontrollably. His chubby hands shook as he pointed weakly at Damien, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. His face had gone pale, the earlier anger and arrogance completely gone.

Damien’s sharp eyes locked onto him.

"Are you," he said slowly, "also going to attack?"

Pug froze completely, his body stiff as a statue. The only sound was his terrified breathing—short, rapid gasps that escaped through his open mouth.