Chapter 229: [Primordial Blood Drive]

The entire floor shook as Lucifer shot forward again, his blood-blades coated in living shadow, eyes focused and burning gold-red.

He clashed with Damaris mid-air—blade to palm.

And like before, his strike did nothing.

Damaris didn’t even blink.

The white-haired monster twisted his body unnaturally fast, elbow driving into Lucifer’s jaw with bone-crunching force, sending him flying across the arena. He hit a stone monolith and cracked it in half on impact. Dust flew. Blood spilled from his mouth.

Lucifer groaned, rising.

But before he could even blink, Damaris was there again. A flash. A blur. A fist.

Lucifer barely phased through it with a spatial warp. The punch cracked the air where his head had been. The shockwave alone blew apart the stone ground beneath them.

(He’s relentless—like fighting gravity itself...)

Lucifer flipped mid-air, twisted his body, and summoned a barrage of crimson tendrils from his back. They snaked out, forming spears, and launched forward.

Damaris raised a single hand and snapped his fingers.

All the tendrils exploded mid-flight—scattered like bloodied petals.

Lucifer landed with a heavy breath, sweat trailing down his temple.

Then...

A voice echoed inside his head.

[You’re a fool.]

Lucifer blinked. (...why?)

[That thing in front of you? It’s me. But a shallow echo. A shadow carved from my blood and hate, before I found meaning. Before you. Before your mother.]

Lucifer steadied his stance, eyes fixed on the monster.

[He’s powerful, yes. But not invincible.]

(He’s crushing me, Damaris.)

[Because you’re fighting him like an opponent. He’s not that. He’s a force. You need to respond with precision, not strength. Don’t overpower him. Outplay him.]

Lucifer’s breathing calmed.

[And remember—he was me. I know every weakness he pretended not to have.]

Lucifer smirked faintly. "Alright, old man..."

He raised both hands.

Blood coiled around him like a second skin—tight, controlled, pulsing with rhythm.

Shadow fused in next—threads of night twisting into armor across his chest and arms.

Then he snapped his fingers.

The ground below him split into glyphs.

Damaris charged again, faster than ever. His foot slammed into the ground, ripping through the space between them like a missile.

Lucifer vanished.

Damaris stopped—eyes flicking upward.

Too late.

Lucifer descended from above, arms out, spinning.

"Crimson Spiral."

A vortex of blood blades spun around him like a cyclone, striking in every direction. The sheer force lit the air with arcs of red.

Damaris crossed his arms, blocking—but even he was pushed back. Skidded.

Lucifer landed, panting lightly, then rolled forward and struck again—this time aiming not for Damaris’ body, but his footing. He destabilized the ground beneath him, collapsing it into a pit laced with shadow and compressed space.

Damaris dropped in, expression unreadable.

Lucifer didn’t stop.

He jumped in after, arms glowing.

"Grimoire Art: Eater’s Sigil."

A blood rune formed beneath them—a forbidden seal he had taken from the Crimson Grimoire. It pulsed, then exploded upward in a pillar of consumption.

The space within the pit folded.

Energy drained rapidly.

Even Damaris flinched.

Lucifer teleported back up, gasping. His hands trembled.

(It’s working... I’m burning too much essence, but it’s slowing him.)

Damaris rose next, calmly floating upward like gravity meant nothing.

His hair flowed behind him, red eyes glowing brighter.

Lucifer took a step back.

[He’s activating the old blood technique. Step carefully.]

A sound like snapping bones filled the air.

Damaris’ back split open.

Wings—not of feathers, but of hardened blood and shadow—sprouted, jagged and curved like the blades of ancient swords.

Lucifer’s pupils shrank.

Then Damaris moved.

And the world blurred.

He reappeared behind Lucifer with a blade formed from raw essence.

Lucifer ducked just in time—felt the heat pass over his neck.

He kicked off, spun, and summoned his blood wall just in time to block a second strike.

The wall shattered.

He coughed, hit the floor, rolled again—and this time, activated his trump card.

"Shadow Convergence."

A dome of black locked them both in. Light flickered strangely.

Within it—Lucifer controlled everything.

His domain.

Damaris landed quietly.

Lucifer appeared behind him—stabbed both blades into his back.

But—

Damaris vanished.

It was an afterimage.

Lucifer widened his eyes.

Then—

BAM.

A punch to the ribs sent him flying. The domain cracked.

[You’re using it wrong. You made it a cage. You should make it a mirror.]

Lucifer’s brain clicked.

A mirror.

He coughed again—blood spilling—and slammed his palm on the ground.

The shadow domain shimmered.

Changed.

Now, instead of pure darkness—it became a reflection.

Dozens.

Hundreds of Lucifers surrounded the monster.

Each moving differently.

Damaris paused.

He stepped back once.

And Lucifer moved.

Every version of him attacked at once.

Most were fakes. Illusions. But some—

Some were real.

Blades struck.

Blood flew.

Damaris blocked three—took two hits—and retaliated, ripping through the illusions like paper.

Lucifer dropped from above and stabbed again.

This time, it dug deep into the shoulder.

Damaris caught the blade—twisted it—punched Lucifer in the stomach so hard he vomited blood.

Lucifer flew back—again.

Cracked into the wall.

Still conscious.

Barely.

(He’s bleeding... he can bleed...)

But the moment of relief was short.

Damaris extended his hand.

His blood.

His aura.

His very soul ignited.

Wings spread wider.

The floor couldn’t handle it. The entire 100th floor—whatever plane of space it existed on—began to fracture.

Lucifer got back on one knee, panting hard.

"I guess..."

He wiped his mouth.

"...this is what it takes to fight a god."

The monster stared back, face unreadable.

Then—

Both moved.

At once.

Lucifer unleashed his final gambit—twisting the blood in his veins to ignite the [Primordial Blood Drive].

A forbidden burst of all essence at once.

His hair lifted. His mark flared.

He surged across the air—vanishing and reappearing again and again—strikes raining down.

And Damaris—no longer watching—began responding with real fury.

Each blow now cracked space.

Each collision was thunder.

And then—

Both disappeared into a blur—

—and collided in the air—

—one final explosion of power—

—before everything turned white.

And silence.

A/N

Thanks for reading my work