Chapter 15: Lightning Grind
The weight of Lilith's words settled over Donarstraza like volcanic ash. Millions. Demon Lords. Karnazul broken in minutes. Theodric von Adler wasn't just strong; he was a historical cataclysm in human form. The casual ease with which he'd swatted her aside, the utter contempt in his "mercy"... it wasn't just humiliation anymore. It was a terrifying benchmark. The Charisma "???" throbbed like a bruised fruit, the Wisdom fog made the scale hard to grasp, but the icy dread in Lilith's glowing purple eyes was crystal clear. Karnazul had charged a hurricane for her. And lost. Again.
A cold, hard knot formed in Donarstraza's gut, pushing past the lingering pain from Theodric's knee and the system's penalties. Fear curdled into something sharper, more desperate. 185 Days. Orcs. Dragons. Sundering-level monsters. She looked down at her shimmering purple-red hands, the golden lightning that sputtered uncertainly around them. Level 4 felt pathetic. Insulting. Like bringing a sparkler to a supernova fight.
She lifted her head, meeting Lilith's assessing gaze. The Second in Command was already weaving intricate patterns with her inky black slime over Karnazul's chest, the substance pulsing with healing energy, her pale skin taut with concentration. Donarstraza's voice cut through the arena's silence, stripped of doubt, resonating with a command that felt newly forged in desperation:
"Slimzy."
Lilith's head snapped up, purple eyes sharp.
"Clear this arena. Then fill it." Donarstraza's golden eyes burned. "Summon every lesser demon within the Spire's reach. Imps. Gremlins. Void-rats. Anything weak, disposable, and flammable. Gather them here. Now."
Lilith blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her fair features, quickly masked by professional curiosity. "A... demonstration, My Storm? Or perhaps a purification ritual? The lower vaults are teeming with—"
"Target practice," Donarstraza stated flatly. "I need to gauge my current strength. Arrange it."
Understanding, cold and pragmatic, dawned in Lilith's eyes. She inclined her head, a slime-covered strand of dark hair falling across her horn. "As you command, Divine Lightning. The Void Arena shall host... a reckoning." She snapped her fingers. Tendrils of black slime detached, shooting into the shadows like living projectiles. Distant, panicked screeches echoed almost immediately.
***
Within the hour, the Void Arena was transformed. No longer a silent tomb of defeat, it was a seething, terrified pit. Thousands upon thousands of lesser demons packed the floor, pressed shoulder to stinking shoulder – scrawny imps with chittering teeth, hulking but dull-witted gremlins, skittering void-rats with glowing red eyes. Fear hung thick in the sulfurous air, a palpable stench of terror. They hadn't been summoned; they'd been herded by Lilith's slime tendrils and the sheer terror of her presence. Whispers rippled through the horde: The Goddess... Why us?... Sacrifice?... Punishment?
Donarstraza stood alone on the raised platform where Karnazul had knelt, overlooking the sea of cowering fiends. Lilith watched from the shadows near the exit, arms crossed, expression unreadable but her purple eyes keenly observant.
No grand speech. No warning. Donarstraza simply moved.
She leapt from the platform, a purple-red comet wreathed in sudden, furious golden lightning. She landed amidst the packed demons like a thunderclap. Lightning Arc erupted from her outstretched hands, not a single bolt, but twin, continuous, sizzling streams of raw energy. She didn't aim. She swept them horizontally.
ZZZZZZZRAAAAK-KRAK-KRAK!
Dozens of imps and gremlins simply vaporized mid-scream, reduced to greasy smears on the obsidian. The smell of ozone and burnt demon flesh filled the arena. Panic exploded. Demons screamed, trampling each other, trying to flee, but there was nowhere to go. The walls were sheer, the exits blocked by Lilith's watchful presence and shimmering black slime barriers.
Donarstraza became a whirlwind of destruction. She waded into the chaos, lightning streams lashing out like electrified whips, incinerating clusters. She kicked out, a leg reinforced by 31 Constitution sending a gremlin flying like a rotten melon into its brethren. She punched, crackling fists caving in carapaces and snapping spines. It wasn't elegant. It was brutal, efficient, cathartic rage. Each sparking blow, each sizzling kill, chipped away at the helplessness Theodric had inflicted.
[Experience Gained: 5 XP]
[Experience Gained: 3 XP]
[Experience Gained: 10 XP]
...
[Level Up!]
[You are now Level 5!]
[HP +25!]
[MP +10!]
[Stamina +20!]
[Constitution +2!]
[Intelligence +2!]
[Gained 5 Free Attribute Points!]
She didn't stop to allocate. She plunged back in. Lightning Arcs grew thicker, faster. She started combining them with physical strikes, kicking off demon bodies to launch herself at denser groups. The notifications became a constant flicker at the edge of her vision, a counterpoint to the screams and sizzle.
[Lightning Arc has reached Level 2!]
...
[Experience Gained: 8 XP]
[Level Up!]
[You are now Level 6!]
...
[Primordial Spark has reached Level 2!]
[+10% Lightning Damage → +15% Lightning Damage]
...
[Mana Drain has reached Level 2!]
[Drain Rate: 5 MP/sec → 6 MP/sec]
...
She was a storm given flesh. Lightning streamed from her hands, her feet, crackling around her horns. Demons fell like wheat before a scythe. The sheer volume was overwhelming; she couldn't drain fast enough to keep up with the MP cost, even with her increased pool. A low buzz started in her ears – Mana Intoxication Threshold Lowered! But she ignored it, riding the wave of power and XP.
Midway through the slaughter, wading through a knee-deep pile of smoldering corpses, a new sensation sparked in her core. Not rage, not desperation, but a sudden, instinctive understanding. The lightning wasn't just for blasting. It could be… shaped. Solidified. Held.
[New Skill Unlocked: Lightning Blade (Active Lv.1)]
[Description: Forge a blade of pure lightning energy. Damage scales with Intelligence, Lightning Affinity, and Skill Level. Shape and size are user-defined but consume proportional MP. Cost: Variable (Minimum 20 MP). Duration: Sustained. Warning: High MP drain increases Intoxication risk.]
A feral grin split Donarstraza's face. Yes. She focused, pouring her will and crackling energy into her left hand. Golden light coalesced, not as a stream, but as pure, blinding plasma. It lengthened, widened, solidified. Not a rapier. Not a longsword. She envisioned impact. Obliteration.
In her hand materialized a Lightning Blade unlike any normal weapon. It was massive, easily fifteen feet long from pommel to tip, wider than her torso – a brutal, crackling buster sword sculpted from solidified lightning. Raw power hummed along its
edge, casting stark, dancing shadows across the terrified faces of the remaining demons. It felt heavy, dense with destructive potential, yet weightless to her will.
She didn't hesitate. With a roar that echoed Karnazul's fury, she swung the colossal blade horizontally.
SHHHH-KRAAAAK-BOOOOOM!
It wasn't a cut; it was a localized detonation. The giant lightning blade sheared through a dozen demons in its path like they were mist, then exploded outward in a devastating wave of pure electrical force. A swathe thirty feet wide was instantly cleared, leaving only charred outlines and the smell of ionized air. The recoil vibrated up her arm, a jolt of pure power.
[Lightning Blade used!]
[Demons Destroyed: 14]
[Experience Gained: 70 XP!]
[Lightning Blade has reached Level 2!]
...
[Lightning Blade has reached Level 3!]
She laughed, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. Scheiße, this feels GOOD! She waded forward, the giant lightning buster sword humming in her grip, swinging in wide, devastating arcs. Each swing was a thunderclap, clearing huge sections of the arena floor. Demons disintegrated, fled, or were simply blown apart by the concussive blasts. Her Lightning Arcs became secondary, clean-up for stragglers.
[Level Up!]
[You are now Level 7!]
...
[Level Up!]
[You are now Level 8!]
...
[Mana Perception has reached Level 3!]
[Range: 10m → 15m]
...
[Level Up!]
[You are now Level 9!]
...
[Mana Vampirism has reached Level 3!]
[Conversion Efficiency: 50% → 55%]
...
[Level Up!]
[You are now Level 10!]
[HP +25!]
[MP +10!]
[Stamina +20!]
[Constitution +2!]
[Intelligence +2!]
[Gained 5 Free Attribute Points!]
[Lightning Arc has reached Level 8!]
[Damage: [Int x 1.5] + Spark → [Int x 2.0] + Spark]
[Cost: 15 MP → 20 MP]
[Range: 15m → 25m]
[Cast Time: 1.5s → 1.0s]
[Primordial Spark has reached Level 8!]
[+15% Lightning Damage → +25% Lightning Damage]
Finally, she stopped. The giant Lightning Blade dissolved in a shower of sparks. The Void Arena was silent except for the crackle of dying electrical discharges and the hiss of cooling obsidian. The floor was a charnel house, layered with ash and the occasional twitching limb. A few hundred traumatized lesser demons cowered in the farthest corners, trembling uncontrollably.
Donarstraza stood panting in the center, chest heaving, skin steaming slightly, her golden eyes blazing with exertion and raw power. She felt… different. Denser. Sharper. The lightning within her wasn't just a tool; it felt like an extension of her rage, her will. Level 10. She had the stats to prove it. She dismissed her Status screen, the numbers burned into her mind.
She turned towards Lilith's shadowed perch. The High Minister stood perfectly still, her glowing purple eyes wide, her usually expressive face slack with shock. The inky black slime seemed momentarily dull. She wasn't horrified by the slaughter; she'd orchestrated it. She was stunned by how it was done. The raw, uncontrolled fury. The reliance on sheer, brutal force. The… inefficiency compared to the legends.
"My… My Storm," Lilith breathed, her voice uncharacteristically small. She took a hesitant step forward, her gaze sweeping the devastation. "That was… certainly a display of power." A pause. A flicker of her usual sharpness returned, laced with profound concern she couldn't quite hide. "But… forgive my observation… the precision, the scale… it seems… significantly diminished from your glorious Sundering days."
Donarstraza met Lilith's gaze, the euphoria of leveling up crashing into the cold reality of her Second in Command's assessment. The Wisdom impairment was fading, replaced by the harsh clarity of Level 10. Lilith wasn't just surprised; she was disappointed. The gap between the legend and the reborn reality was vast, and Lilith had just seen it laid bare in blood and lightning.
She had power now. Real power. Level 10 power. But as Lilith's purple eyes held hers, filled with a complex mix of loyalty, shock, and dawning apprehension, Donarstraza realized with chilling certainty: Level 10 wasn't going to be enough. Not for Theodric. Not for the Orcs. Not even close. The grind had only just begun. The mountain she needed to climb just got a lot steeper.