After eliminating that Indura and accidentally awakening his own power, Lucifer did not immediately proceed to clear out the remaining Indura Larvae.
A glint of calculation flashed in his eyes, and he deliberately slowed his pace, maneuvering through the now-thinned crowd of monsters; he no longer sought one-hit kills, but instead, it was as if he were… toying with them, or perhaps, luring them.
“Come on, bring me a few more like that last one, someone capable of showing off some special skills.” He muttered inwardly while nimbly sidestepping the pounce of an Indura, backhanding a palm strike that shattered its skull.
His gaze swept sharply over every remaining Indura, attempting to find a second, or even a third, individual possessing magical power.
The combination of Deconstruction of All Things and Primal Circuit made his heart race with its potential.
Copying even one more ability meant having an extra trump card in this perilous Demon Realm, and one more asset for survival and growth.
For that reason, he did not mind spending more time dancing with these “whetstones.”
The number of Indura had plummeted from what initially seemed like an endless horde to about fifty.
With the pressure greatly reduced, Lucifer found dodging increasingly effortless, even having the leeway to carefully observe the attack patterns of each monster in search of an Indura that might have awakened magical power.
On a distant mountain peak, Belial watched the figure in the battlefield who had suddenly become “sluggish,” his rugged brows furrowing tightly, his dark red eyes filled with confusion and a hint of impatience.
“What is he doing?” his deep voice carried confusion, “He could have finished this quickly, yet he is jumping around like a foolish prey.”
In Belial’s understanding, power should be displayed and utilized in the most direct and violent manner.
Lucifer’s previously stunning “Sword Strike” magic, copied from the Indura, was dismissed by him as either a chance eruption or some one-time trump card bestowed by the Demon King.
After all, instantly learning and fully mastering someone else’s magic sounded too inconceivable.
More importantly, the absolute gap in bloodline and power made him completely unable to understand Lucifer’s craving for “more abilities.”
In the face of his massive Combat Class of 210,000, these Indura Larvae, with a maximum Combat Class of only 6,000, were nothing more than ants to be crushed with a flick of a finger.
Lucifer’s currently “inefficient” combat style appeared almost like child’s play in his eyes, or even a sign of cowardice.
“Waste of time.” Belial snorted, his crossed arms tightening, and his assessment of Lucifer slid once again toward the brink of being “unworthy.”
If not for the order of the Demon King, he would not even have bothered to watch from here.
In the battlefield, another dozen minutes passed.
Lucifer wove through like a ghost, killing another dozen Indura, and the remaining monsters were fewer than forty.
However, to his disappointment, apart from the first one, no second Indura displayed magical power; they all relied on instinct for biting, ramming, and clawing.
“It seems that those possessing magical power are rare, even among the Indura…” Lucifer thought to himself, the little expectation of “farming skills” in his heart gradually cooling.
Since there were no “new goods,” these remaining monsters had lost their value as “test subjects.”
His eyes turned cold, his body suddenly stopped, and the pitch-black wings behind him unfurled with a “whoosh,” whipping up a current of air.
“Since there are no more’surprises,’ then you… have no need to continue existing.”
Before the words even finished, he pushed off the ground with both feet, his body shooting out like an arrow from a bow, actively charging toward the remaining group of Indura!
His speed was many times faster than when he had been dancing with them before!
“Sword Strike!”
Amidst a low shout, Lucifer brought his fingers together like a sword; the pitch-black magical sword energy no longer covered a wide area but transformed into precise, condensed, lightning-fast black threads that erupted from his fingertips.
Swish!
Swish!
Swish!
Every time a black thread flashed by, the core of an Indura was pierced, or a joint was severed, causing its movements to instantly stiffen.
He flickered through the crowd of monsters, and wherever he passed, the Indura fell one after another like harvested wheat.
Having thoroughly familiarized himself with the exertion techniques and magical circulation of “Sword Strike,” combined with the superior body control brought by his Physical Strength of 3,000, he was now like a master swordsman; although he lacked a real sword, he used his hand as a blade, and its sharpness and precision surpassed that of ordinary blades.
Even the few faster Indura that attempted to sneak attack from tricky angles only had time to see a flash of black light enlarge before their vitals were pierced by the sword energy.
In just a dozen breaths, the last Indura had its core shredded by the sword energy amidst an unwilling roar, its massive body crashing to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.
The battle came to an abrupt end.
Lucifer slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, hovering above the ground covered in remains and filth.
He shook his hand, scattering the tiny blood droplets and residual magic from his fingertips.
Looking around, there was not a single monster left standing.
The fatigue and injuries from the initial battle had already mostly recovered under the powerful vitality of the Demon King’s body; more importantly, he had a clearer understanding of his newly acquired power.
“It seems you aren’t completely a waste of space.”
A deep and oppressive voice sounded almost right against his back.
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed slightly; he did not turn around, instead simply flapping his wings behind him to put a few meters of distance between them before turning to face the newcomer.
Belial’s five-meter-tall centaur body had appeared quietly at the spot where he had just been, his four hooves planted firmly in the gore, his dark red eyes looking down at him with undisguised scrutiny and… indifference.
“You, having watched the show for so long, didn’t even bother to come down and lend a hand.” Lucifer’s tone was calm, betraying neither joy nor anger.
He had long since sensed that undisguised, massive Combat Class aura of 210,000 in the distance, as conspicuous as a torch in the dark night.
“Tch.” Belial let out a clear scoff, his massive head lifting slightly, “If you cannot even clean up this lowest-grade trash on your own, then you do not even have the qualifications to stand here and speak with me, let alone serve by the side of the Demon King.”
His words were blunt and cruel, like a cold blade, laying bare his inner contempt for Lucifer’s “weak” power and his own absolute pride in his strength, exposing them under the dark red sky of the Demon Realm.
Lucifer narrowed his eyes slightly, his pitch-black pupils reflecting Belial’s arrogant figure.
The other’s merciless words, and that seemingly innate attitude of viewing him as a secondary existence, were like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, sobering him instantly.
This guy… he truly thinks from the bottom of his heart that I am too weak, completely looking down on me.
A cold anger, mixed with a strong fighting spirit, quietly sprouted in the depths of his heart.
But there was no fluctuation on his face; he simply watched Belial quietly, as if wanting to imprint the other’s current posture deeply into his mind.
On the desolate land, the smell of blood permeated the wind.
Two Demon Gods, both “Primal,” fell into a brief, standoff of Reticence filled with invisible tension above the battlefield where the slaughter had just ended.
The dark red clouds rolled slowly above their heads, as if foreshadowing a new storm.