Lucifer abruptly released fifty Engolas from the Spatial Bead, letting them fall in panic into the center of the camp, stirring up a cloud of dust and commotion.
This unusual action left Andura completely stunned; his brow furrowed, and his icy blue eyes were filled with confusion.
What on earth is this guy up to?
Lucifer ignored Andura’s searching gaze and the wary eyes of the gathering vampire warriors.
His expression was calm, as if he had just done something perfectly ordinary.
Then, he raised his right hand and naturally gripped the hilt of the replica “kirato” hanging at his waist.
Clang—!
With a clear ring of the sword, the pitch-black blade unsheathed, drawing a dark arc in the dim light of the camp.
The next moment, Lucifer moved.
His figure flickered several times among the scurrying Engolas, moving so fast he left only faint black afterimages in the air.
Every swing of the “kirato” in his hand was effortless, without any grand display, only threads of black light, condensed to the extreme and nearly invisible, flashing by.
Shink, shink, shink…
The subtle sounds of the sharp blade cutting into flesh merged into one, interspersed with the abrupt, short wails of the Engolas.
In just two or three breaths’ time, Lucifer’s figure solidified beside Andura again.
The black sword was already sheathed, and a single drop of blood slowly slid down the blade, dripping into the dust.
Thump, thump…
Fifty sturdy Engolas stopped running and screeching almost simultaneously, freezing rigidly in place.
Then, a very fine line of blood appeared simultaneously on their vitals—necks, hearts, or heads.
“Done.”
Lucifer lightly clapped his hands as if dusting them off, a relaxed smile appearing on his face.
To Andura, this smile seemed exceptionally eerie and elusive.
Andura’s brow furrowed even deeper.
Killed them?
Just like that?
What exactly is he trying to do?
His vigilance rose to its peak, his gaze locked onto Lucifer, trying to find an answer in his next move.
Lucifer didn’t make him wait long.
He slowly extended his right hand, fingers spread and palm facing down, aimed at the Engolas corpses that were rapidly losing warmth and whose magic power was beginning to dissipate naturally.
“Eternal Absorption.”
These four calm words left his mouth, yet they seemed to carry an ancient rhythm.
Hum—!
Centered on Lucifer’s palm, an invisible wave with a faint pulling force quietly spread out.
This wave wasn’t violent, but it carried an irresistible, profound quality.
Then, a shocking scene unfolded.
Wisps of magic aura, varying in color but all extremely weak, began to rise from the fifty Engolas corpses.
Lucifer’s palm seemed to turn into a miniature black hole vortex, calmly and efficiently devouring the converging energy.
His arm, and even half of his body, were faintly shrouded in a hazy, constantly shifting halo of colors.
“Is this…
an ability to absorb life and magic power?” Andura’s pupils constricted as he quickly compared it to known abilities.
“Similar to Elder Shaloria’s [Devour]?”
In Andura’s understanding, while the ability to absorb external energy to benefit oneself was rare, it wasn’t unique.
Elder Shaloria’s [Devour] was a prime example.
He subconsciously categorized Lucifer’s [Eternal Absorption] as such, considering it a similar practical skill used for rapid recovery or energy storage.
He didn’t realize at all that this wasn’t simple “absorption and storage,” but a more fundamental “plunder and transformation”—directly and permanently converting it into a part of his own foundation!
Lucifer closed his eyes, his pure black eyelashes casting faint shadows on his eyelids.
He could clearly feel fifty weak but pure streams of magic power continuously flowing into his body through his palm.
As soon as they entered his body, they were refined and purified by the authority of [Eternal Absorption], removing the slight impurities and racial imprints, turning them into the most primordial, non-attribute magic power and life essence.
This energy was like sweet rain, nourishing his body and magic circuits, which were slightly “parched” after the recent battle and the awakening of a new ability.
He could feel his total magic power steadily and solidly increasing at an unprecedentedly clear rate!
Each Engolas provided little energy, but with fifty stacked together, the quantitative change triggered a significant qualitative change.
This tangible feeling of becoming stronger was so direct and intoxicating!
Lucifer slowly withdrew his hand, and the suction vortex in his palm disappeared.
He lightly clenched his fist, feeling the pure magic power surging within him, which had nearly doubled.
A strong sense of confidence and power welled up.
“Is this the true power of [Eternal Absorption]?”
He was exhilarated.
Just fifty “fodder” creatures with a Combat Class of 500 had increased his total magic power by a full eight thousand!
At this moment, he summoned the Magic Eye of Balor to check his status:
[Lucifer]
[Magic Power: 11,100]
[Physical Strength: 3,000]
[spirit: 6,000]
[Combat Class: 20,100]
His overall Combat Class had actually broken through the twenty thousand mark, reaching twenty thousand one hundred!
The confidence brought by power turned the last trace of caution he felt from being in an enemy camp into a calm desire for control.
He looked at Andura, who was still in shock and trying to process what he had just seen, and spoke calmly:
“Let’s go.”
Andura was startled by Lucifer’s voice and only then noticed that something seemed different about him.
He felt shaken, but thinking of Elder Shaloria’s Combat Class of twenty-three thousand and her many trump cards, he settled down slightly.
Even if he absorbed those Engolas and temporarily increased his power, how could he compare to Elder Shaloria’s centuries of accumulation?
Andura convinced himself and hurriedly stepped aside to lead the way: “Please follow me, Your Excellency.”
Lucifer no longer looked at the remains of the Engolas on the ground, which had completely lost all energy and become more withered than ordinary corpses.
He stepped forward and followed Andura.
Although the surrounding vampire warriors were wary of Lucifer’s recent actions, they seemed to have received orders and did not stop him.
Instead, a few of them quickly stepped out and began cleaning up the shriveled corpses without expression—to them, although the essence was gone, the blood of the Engolas was still a precious resource that couldn’t be wasted.
The smell of blood in the center of the camp was gradually dispersed by the wind of the Demon Realm, but a new and perhaps more dangerous meeting was brewing in the most magnificent purple tent deep within the camp.
Lucifer walked among them with steady steps.
Deep in his pure black eyes was the calmness and anticipation of a hunter stepping into a hunting ground.