Damian remained seated upon the endless dark waters while the floating panel illuminated his face with a soft violet glow.
Unlike before, he no longer felt the sa excitent each ti a new skill appeared. The further he climbed, the more absurd the abilities beca, and because of that he had begun judging them less by how flashy they were and more by whether they would actually matter when facing beings like Sol, Asmodeus, or the other princes.
Still, the next skill managed to hold his attention.
[Na: Faith Harvest]
[Type: Active]
[Description: Forcefully draws fate from devotees to temporarily boost your power. However, this hurts and may even kill devotees, depending on how devoted they are. Treat this skill as a last resort.]
Damian rubbed his chin thoughtfully while reading through the description again. His expression gradually darkened the more he thought about it. There was undoubtedly value in the ability. In a desperate battle, drawing power from thousands of worshippers could potentially allow him to overturn an impossible situation.
Yet sothing about it felt wrong.
"So those with more devotion are more likely to die when I use this skill?" he asked.
Rin nodded firmly.
"The amount of devotion determines how much life force can be extracted. Weak believers lose little. Fanatics lose everything. The most devoted followers may even surrender their souls entirely."
Damian’s frown deepened imdiately. The skill suddenly felt far less attractive. His thoughts instinctively drifted toward the people around him
Especially, Twenty.
What if they died because of his decision?
The idea left a sour taste in his mouth.
"Your existence is infinitely more important than the lives of mortals. You shouldn’t be surprised by this at all." Rin spoke calmly, as though explaining basic mathematics.
Damian shook his head but chose not to argue.
Perhaps Rin was right from a god’s perspective.
Perhaps countless deities throughout history had made similar decisions. But he wasn’t interested.
At least that was how he felt at the mont.
If he could avoid it, he would never use a skill capable of killing his own followers. The idea of Twenty dying just to give him a temporary power boost genuinely irritated him.
Without saying another word, Damian continued investing points.
160... 170... 180... 190... 200...
The waters beneath him rippled violently and a familiar pulse swept across the dark world.
[Na: Demonic Weaponry: Nine Flas Fox Handfan]
[Type: Weaponry]
[Description: Triples the power of all fla based techniques.]
The description was absurdly short yet Damian’s eyes imdiately brightened.
Simple abilities often carried terrifying value and this was one of them.
Tripling the power of fla techniques sounded almost ridiculous considering how heavily he already relied upon his flas. Every single fla based ability would beco substantially more dangerous.
This was a massive win!
"I’m curious. Demigod weapons or these weapons, which is better?"
Damian imdiately raised a question.
"Your weapons are growth type artifacts. They evolve alongside their owner. Demigod artifacts stop being useful once you beco a true god level entity. These weapons are different. They grow with you forever."
Rin’s chest puffed up proudly and Damian nodded slowly. Now that was exactly the kind of answer he liked hearing.
The panel shifted again.
[Lust Talent Tree Rejuvenation Process: 37%]
[Living Arts: 50%]
[Primal Soul: 50%]
[Elder Arts: 30%]
"I guess we’re upgrading Elder Arts now."
Rin imdiately nodded with bright eyes.
Unlike Living Arts or Primal Soul, Elder Arts represented the true inheritance of Lust itself. Most of Damian’s most unique abilities originated from this branch.
Without hesitation he began spending points.
10... 20... 30... 40... 50...
A pulse echoed through the dark world.
[Na: Fox King’s Step]
[Type: Active]
[Description: A movent technique that uses bursts of flas to cover long distances in a short span of ti.]
Damian stared blankly at the description for a while. Finally he rubbed his face.
"I’m already ridiculously fast. I honestly don’t see why I need a movent skill."
Rin imdiately rolled his eyes.
"You really don’t understand, do you?"
Damian remained silent.
"Humans are physically the weakest major race. Every speed increase matters. Every movent technique matters. Every advantage matters. You are only fast because your level is high. The mont you start fighting princes and ancient entities, you’ll realize everyone else is fast too."
Damian sighed.
Unfortunately he couldn’t argue against that.
His speed hadn’t magically appeared out of nowhere.
Every prince before him had also leveled up. Every duke had spent centuries growing stronger and every demigod had gone through similar stages.
Thinking he alone possessed ridiculous speed would indeed be foolish.
"Life just keeps getting more interesting."
Rin chuckled.
"It gets worse."
Damian ignored him and continued investing.
60... 70... 80... 90... 100...
The panel flickered again.
[Na: Mark Of The Fox]
[Type: Active]
[Description: Those who bear the Mark of the Fox not only have their abilities improved but also gain access to weakened versions of your powers. Only a maximum of three marks can be given out at a ti.]
This ti Damian’s eyebrow rose.
"Ooh? There’s a limit?"
Rin nodded.
"This isn’t a skill ant for random followers."
Damian looked toward him.
Rin continued.
"Traditionally these marks are reserved for personal knights, trusted generals, spouses, or people whose loyalty is unquestionable. Lin Qui gave them to his wives."
Damian imdiately understood. The ability wasn’t designed for quantity. It was designed for quality.
Three elite subordinates empowered by the Sin of Lust could potentially influence entire worlds. Plus, seeing the mark on soone shows how much a prince valued the person. It also served as a deterrent to enemies.
Thinking about it, he couldn’t even imagine giving such authority to anyone outside his closest circle.
His wives naturally ca to mind first. Beyond that, nobody qualified.
Damian nodded and continued.
110... 120... 130... 140... 150...
The dark waters shook once more.
[Na: Touch of The Succubi Emperor]
[Type: Active]
[Description: You can completely drain a target’s strength and soul, leaving a lifeless husk in its wake by the ti they reach ecstasy. Consider it the most pleasant way to die.]
For several monts Damian simply stared at the description. Then he looked toward Rin.
"How effective is this?"
"Very."
Rin answered instantly.
"In terms of growth efficiency, this is one of the best skills in the entire Lust inheritance. It converts living beings directly into nourishnt."
Damian narrowed his eyes.
"And the downside?"
Rin shrugged.
"The ethical implications."
Damian remained silent.
His gaze returned to the floating panel. The ability was powerful. It was a shortcut to create power. A temptation most would fall for. Yet the more he thought about it, the less interested he beca.
There was a difference between growing stronger and becoming desperate for power.
Damian could understand using such an ability against an enemy.
That was one thing.
But hunting random won and draining them to death simply because they were convenient experience points?
That felt beneath him.
A prince who needed to prey upon the weak to grow stronger was not a prince at all.
He was rely an addict chasing power.
Damian slowly leaned back and stared upward into the endless darkness above.
For a brief mont he wondered how many of the previous holders of the Lust inheritance had eventually fallen into that temptation.
How many had convinced themselves it was necessary.
How many had started with enemies before moving on to strangers.
And how many eventually lost themselves completely.
His eyes slowly narrowed.
Whatever happened in the future, he had no intention of becoming that kind of ruler. Even if the path ahead was longer and far more difficult, he would rather climb it properly than reduce himself to feeding on helpless victims for strength. The thought settled firmly in his mind as his attention returned to the Elder Arts tree once again, already wondering what ridiculous ability the system intended to throw at him next.
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