Chapter 224 – Pride VS Greed
Lux’s grin was sharp. "No. I’m here to make sure everyone knows exactly how much of a bad investnt you are."
And then he threw him — grabbed Vyrak by the collar and literally hurled him across the room into the wall where the live-stream phone still perched. The impact sent dust and mana sparks raining down into the cara lens.
Lux walked over, slow, deliberate, the sound of his boots hitting marble like the countdown to a debt collector knocking at your door.
He reached down, grabbed the phone, and tilted it so the viewers could see Vyrak crumpled against the wall.
"This," Lux said into the lens, "is what happens when you raise my bounty for clout."
Vyrak groaned in the background.
Lux leaned closer. "And just in case any of you think I’m bluffing—" He turned the phone so it caught the flash of Devorare in his hand. "I’m not."
The chat went feral.
Lux let it run a second longer, then tossed the phone onto the throne and looked back at Vyrak.
"Now," he said, rolling his shoulders, "we can finish."
Vyrak’s eyes narrowed, and for the first ti... there was no smugness left.
Only pride. Wounded. And ready to fight like hell.
The air between them thickened—hot and dry like the space between two volcanoes seconds before eruption.
He stood slowly, rolling his neck, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. "You want to see it?" Vyrak said, voice lower now, heavy with a grit that wasn’t in the earlier theatrics.
Sothing in Vyrak’s jaw ticked.
And then it hit.
Not an attack, but a shift.
The Pride aura surged, rolling off him in violent waves as his fra doubled in size, bones cracking, wings stretching until the tips scraped the far wall. His feathers blackened, burning from the edges inward until they were long, serrated shadow blades. His face lengthened, eyes glowing with molten gold, mouth splitting wider to reveal layered rows of teeth that looked made for tearing through armor.
The scent hit Lux first—burnt velvet and iron, heavy and arrogant, like the kind of cologne you wore just to remind people you were better than them.
[System: Warning. Threat level—Critical.]
[Analyzing Target.]
[Lord Vyrak – Level 255]
[Primary Affinity: Pride / Shadow Dominion]
[Skills: Shadow Rift Talons (Pierce & Bleed), Pride Burst (AoE stagger damage), Dominion Surge (territory buff), Rift Shred (Dinsional slash, high mana cost), Void Talon Cage (Bind & Crush), Demonic Endurance ( 50% damage resistance in territory)]
Lux’s brow arched. "255? Huh."
[Recomnd extre caution. He has full territorial advantage. Damage output boosted by 40%. Defensive buffs active.]
"I hate using this. Looks bad on cara."
Lux tilted his head, unimpressed. "As if your normal look was good." He rolled his shoulders. "True form."
[Confird.]
The change slamd into him like a heartbeat in reverse.
The armor warped, lting into sothing darker, sharper, crawling with gilded veins of Greed sigils and Lust thorns. Horns curled up from his head—sleek and polished like obsidian gold. His wings flared wide, their span easily matching Vyrak’s, edges flickering with a black-and-red infernal light. His tail uncoiled, longer and heavier, tipped with a serrated blade.
His eyes went brighter—not just red, but gold laced through, like molten coins under fire.
[All skills and stats: 50]
Lux flexed his claws once, twice. His shadow split across the floor into jagged shards, each moving like it had a mind of its own.
Vyrak’s grin ca back, twisted now. "Finally," he rumbled. "Let’s make it ugly."
Lux smirked. "I thought that was your specialty."
They moved at the sa ti.
The first clash shook the entire vault.
Claw against blade. Shadow against shadow. The sound was bone on steel on mana, each impact flaring black sparks that clung to the walls like burns.
Vyrak’s talons scraped across Lux’s pauldron, cutting deep enough to score the armor.
Lux twisted away, countered with a slash from Amare that carved a line across Vyrak’s ribs—black ichor spilling hot enough to steam against the cold marble.
"Not bad," Vyrak snarled, stepping forward through the pain. "But you’re still bleeding more."
Lux glanced down—he was. A deep line across his thigh, dripping hot down into his greave.
And yeah... he felt it. The weight. The subtle drag of the district itself feeding Vyrak, empowering every strike just enough to force Lux to fight for ground.
"This is your house," Lux said, circling, "but I’m the one collecting rent."
Vyrak lunged. Shadow Rift Talons tore through the floor where Lux had been a second earlier—Lux’s teleport landing him above, daggers raised.
Vyrak whipped around mid-air and slamd a Pride Burst point-blank into him.
It wasn’t light—it was pressure. Like getting hit in the chest by a collapsing wall. Lux smashed into the far wall, cracks webbing out from the impact, dust raining down.
He coughed once, the taste of iron in his mouth. "...You’re heavier than you look."
Vyrak was already charging, wings cutting through the air like cleavers. Lux ducked under the first swipe, stepped into the second—then used Abyssal Grasp.
The shadows under Vyrak erupted upward, dozens of serrated tendrils coiling around his legs and torso. They pulled tight—muscles bulging as Vyrak resisted, snarling.
Lux dashed in, daggers flashing—one-two-three-four cuts, shallow but deliberate, each strike leaving a glowing greed sigil that started to drain.
Vyrak roared, Pride magic flaring hard enough to burn through the tendrils. He backhanded Lux with a Void Talon swipe—hard.
Lux felt the bone-deep sting as claws raked across his chestplate, digging past armor. Heat blood where the cut went deep enough to draw blood.
[HP at 72%. Bleed effect detected.]
Lux staggered back, grinning despite the sting. "You hit harder in this form. Finally earning that smug face."
Vyrak’s laugh was low and an. "You’re going to leave this ring in pieces."
Lux answered with a flick of his wrist—Demonic Orbs exploding into motion, fifty black spheres bouncing violently off walls, floor, and each other before slamming toward Vyrak.
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