aturato
patreon
Becoming the Dark Lord - Chapter 114
🕑 Added 2025-06-17 23:02:01 +0000 UTCLuke had been watching the bats for days.
He followed them wherever they went. Sometimes, he even mimicked them. Spent hours hanging upside down from high branches, just like them, his eyes fixed on the cave ceiling. All in search of an insight. Something was there, within reach. He could feel the thread right in front of him, but he still couldn’t pull it.
Slowly, though, he started to understand.
The bats moved through absolute darkness without hesitation. They used echolocation for more than just navigation. They reacted. They adapted. They anticipated. It was like an extension of their senses. A living, breathing awareness. Luke realized the problem he had against the Mantis wasn’t a lack of strength. It was poorly refined perception.
His Perception stat was extremely high. A true sensory field surrounding his body. But it had gotten... sloppy. He had grown used to relying on the stat itself without ever truly training it. Worse, there was a simple obstacle that made this power almost useless.
The darkness.
It meant nothing to have a huge perception radius if his reflexes were crippled by a lack of vision. The stat was there, but his body didn’t know how to fully process it in this environment.
It frustrated him.
The Mantis was only one level above the Lightning Manticore. And back then, when he fought it, Luke was weaker. His gear was worse. Charlie was less developed. And he had none of the abilities he had now.
He should be winning.
Of course, levels mattered — especially depending on how the points were distributed. The Manticore invested heavily in endurance. The Mantis invested in speed. And Luke had discovered something crucial during the fight. The creature’s endurance was low. Very low. So low that it had to use a skill twice to harden its scythe limbs into iron. Once when it sensed Charlie about to strike. Another when it realized it needed to kill her before she could do more damage.
And there was another revealing moment. The instant when Luke almost managed to strike it from behind.
The Mantis dodged. Reacted at the very last second. But it wasn’t a reflex. It was fear. Pure survival instinct.
If it had been the Manticore, it wouldn’t have cared. Luke remembered clearly. He would leap onto its back, strike, and the beast would just keep fighting Charlie like he was an irrelevant bug.
The Mantis was different. Fast. Deadly. But also... cowardly. Its strategy was simple. Finish fights quickly, before the enemy had a chance to react. It wasn’t about confidence. It was about self-preservation.
And even then, Luke had deflected some of its attacks.
That meant he was close. There were openings.
To win, his reflexes needed to be faster than the Mantis’s speed.
It wasn’t enough to see the attack.
He needed to sense it before it even happened.
That was what he was training now. Full perception. True spatial awareness. He didn’t want to just react. He wanted to anticipate. And to do that, he needed to refine something he had only ever used instinctively.
His bloodline.
The Demonic Perception.
[Demonic Perception (Uncommon)]: Your demonic bloodline sharpens your senses, allowing you to thrive in darkness. Perception is enhanced, making it harder for you to be ambushed in dark or concealed environments. At higher levels, you'll be able to detect magical distortions and invisible presences.]
He had something powerful in his hands.
He just didn’t know how to use it.
Luke knew, both from experience and study, that nature was absurdly efficient. No System. No stat bonuses. No magical skills. Just biology. And even so, animals achieved things humans could never dream of.
A simple ant could carry up to a hundred times its own weight. If a seventy-kilo human tried the same, it would be like hauling a school bus on their back. Seven tons of metal and glass. That was the kind of strength Luke respected. Primal. Brutal. Honest.
Insects were masters of instinct. Arachnids had reflexes tuned to perfection. They sensed vibrations through the ground with their legs, tracked shifts in air pressure through microscopic hairs on their joints. If a threat approached from behind—or above—a spider could react before it even technically saw anything.
Bats were a different kind of nightmare. Assassins of the dark. Navigating pitch-black labyrinths without touching a single wall. Hunting. Killing. All through sound and perception.
Luke wanted that. Needed it.
He moved through one of the cave’s narrower tunnels, a strip of cloth tied tight around his eyes. Not just for training. It was a rejection of sight. A rejection of anything his brain might use to cheat. He wasn’t here to see. He was here to feel.
Every step registered—the drag of air across damp stone, the drip of water falling from stalactites, echoes rippling through the hollow like sonar pulses. The rhythm of his own breath became a signal. And beneath it... something deeper. A vibration under the skin. A whisper at the edge of his nerves.
There. Four meters ahead. Something small. Crawling. Slight shift—high and right. A brief screech. Another bat.
Luke turned toward it before conscious thought could even catch up. Pure reflex.
Demonic Perception was finally becoming real. Not just a stat. Not a passive number on a screen. A living extension of his body. His movement shifted. Quieter. More precise. Less... human.
Kukris gripped tight. Shoulders steady. Cloth sealed over his eyes. Even in absolute darkness, Luke didn’t want to see. He wanted to perceive.
Each step deliberate. Each breath controlled. The visual world was a lie. Sight was a crutch. His brain already knew it. It had to trust the sense that came from within.
Perception.
A sound tore through the air—jagged. Aggressive. Skittering legs. Rapid movement. Close. Right side.
Luke turned—too late.
Impact. A centipede slammed into his ribs, knocking him flat. He scrambled upright—another vibration. Left. The ground shifted.
Cracks opened beneath him. Another centipede burst free, jaws snapping—It struck him square in the chest, sending him airborne. His shoulder clipped the wall as he tumbled. A heavy hum passed through the air—thick. Sticky.
Webline.
Weight dragged at his limbs as a spider yanked him upward, hauling him toward the ceiling. His back hit stone—hard. The impact knocked the breath out of him.
Then—gravity again. He slammed into the dirt below, tangled in webs.
Footsteps. Multiple. Getting closer. Pressure. Behind. Mandibles scraping. A centipede lunged.
Fangs sank deep into his shoulder.
Luke twisted, blades flashing, catching the spider that scuttled into range—but a centipede crashed into his side, throwing him down again. His leg pinned. Another set of jaws clamped around his thigh.
A shadow loomed—bigger. Faster. A giant ant rammed him, sending pain tearing through his ribs.
He struck back—wild. Rolling. Desperate. His shoulder caught a rock or a tree root—he couldn’t even tell anymore. Pain bloomed.
Then another bite—sharp, brutal—buried into his forearm.
He lashed out but missed. His balance shattered. There were too many. Too fast.
He couldn’t see. Couldn’t process. Couldn’t react fast enough.
“Shit...”
The kukris slipped from his hands as something struck his ribs again, driving him sideways. The floor spun beneath him. His skull hit something solid.
Footsteps. More of them. Surrounding. Closing in.
Countless shapes. Countless movements. Countless teeth. Hungry. Surrounding him. Closing in. And Luke was nothing but a broken thing lying in the dirt. Helpless. Weak. Alone in the dark. Prey.
But then... his eyes drifted shut. Even behind the blindfold. And he remembered. The bats. Not how they saw the world—how they felt it.
“Focus...” he whispered, breath shallow, body shaking.
Perception pulsed. A wave. A radar.
But it hit like a tidal wave. Too much. Everything. Everywhere. All at once. Signals tangled together—vibrations, echoes, footsteps, breaths, growls. Overlapping. Dissonant. A thousand voices screaming at once.
His brain buckled under the weight of it. Like drowning in a sea made of pillars and walls of static.
Then something clicked. A thread of clarity cutting through the chaos.
It’s not about sensing everything. It’s about reducing.
Luke’s fingers touched the ground. Felt the hum beneath the stone. The vibration of movement. The echo of growls. The subtle shifts of weight pressing against dirt. Not far. Not wide. Close. Clear.
Perception didn’t have to be an open floodgate. It could be a scalpel.
When you grab something with your hands... you control the strength. Why not this?
Luke sat in the middle of the storm, eyes clenched tighter beneath the blindfold, body trembling. Shrink the field. Cut the noise. Collapse the excess. Focus.
He forced every part of himself to obey. His ears. His breath. His heartbeat. His instincts. Refine. Compress. Control.
Pain bloomed. A sudden crack behind his eyes. Blood trickled from his nose. His skull felt like it might split in half.
But he didn’t stop.
The field tightened. Collapsed inward. Meter by meter, the noise faded. The static sharpened.
Pillars turned to outlines. Outlines turned to shapes. Shapes became creatures. Movement. Breaths. Limbs. Jaws.
The pressure in his head built—white-hot, blinding—like his eardrums were peeling inside out.
Then—the breaking point. The moment where everything either shattered... or clicked into place.
And it clicked.
The world redrew itself. A black-and-white film painted across his mind. Not sight. Not sound. Something deeper. Something truer.
Reality became tactile. Felt. Lines drawn in vibration, in presence, in the way air shifted around mass.
His arms moved before thought caught up. Kukris snapped to his hands like magnets pulled them through space.
Pressure. Right side. Movement. Crawling legs. Fast.
Luke spun. A perfect arc.
The blade found the gap between chitin plates.
[You have slain a Cave Centipede – Level 14]
Another pulse. Something shifted in the air—thin, stretched. A line of tension. Web.
He stepped aside. Blade swept upward. The line snapped.
Luke advanced, feet gliding over stone like it was choreography. Each step a recalibration. Each breath a new map drawn in real time.
Ahead. A rumble. A subtle growl. The tension of legs bracing.
Spider.
Sticky projectiles fired through the air—silent to normal ears. But not to him.
He twisted. Slipped between them. Closed the distance.
A fist crashed into the spider’s head. Not for damage—for control. The impact threw it off balance, legs scrabbling for footing.
Kukri flew. The other followed. His hands worked like extensions of the field itself—blades whipping forward, then snapping back, slicing through joints and legs.
The spider collapsed in a heap of broken limbs.
[You have slain a Jumping Spider – Level 17]
Luke turned. His head cocked slightly.
Footsteps. Legs. Mandibles. Approaching. Surrounding.
But something changed.
They weren’t rushing anymore. The swarm stopped. Sensed something. Something different.
Luke smiled. A slow, sharp grin that didn’t belong to prey.
“...Now,” he muttered, voice low. “It’s my turn to play.”
He moved. Silent. Fluid. Blindfolded. Unstoppable.
The predator was awake.
***
Luke climbed out of the hole. Princess Charlie stood beside him, arms crossed, shoulders tense. Irritated—not just at the Mantis, but at him.
He’d forbidden her from joining the fight. Told her this was something he had to do alone. She wanted revenge. He wanted a duel.
“Stay here. Like we agreed.” His voice was steady, but it left no room for argument.
Charlie didn’t answer. Didn’t nod. Just crossed her arms tighter, her posture stiff with frustration—a silent ‘hmph’ if she’d had the lips for it.
“If I screw this up, you jump in with the barrier. That’s it.”
A moment passed. Then, finally... she nodded. Reluctant, but she understood.
Luke exhaled, gripped the handles of his kukris, felt the familiar bite of steel against his palms, then stepped forward into the tunnel.
The space opened. A shadow moved. And the roar hit like a wall of sound.
“AAARRRGH!!”
The system notification flared.
[Devourer Mantis (Beast Captain) – Level 28]
The monster loomed like a temple built from bone and hunger. Twelve meters of muscle, steel, and death. Legs like spears. Arms like guillotines.
It didn’t breathe. It didn’t wait. It existed only to kill.
Luke swallowed.
No potions. No heals. No margin for error.
If it hits me... I die.
<< Chapter 113 | Index | Chapter 115 >>
