Became a Demon with Pregnancy System-Chapter 110: Battle of the Dark Arts

"So if there were a forbidden spell that allowed a human to directly become a demon, I wouldn’t be shocked. But it won’t save you from me."

Luke’s laugh was harsh. "Save me? You overestimate yourself."

He lunged with his massive wolf claws, now wreathed in embers of golden flame. Despite the thick, cloying air saturated with her toxins, he moved swiftly.

The heat radiating from his strike seared across the rainfall, turning droplets to steam in midair. For a split second, the golden flames licked at Sierra Ling’s clothes, and she hissed in irritation.

Then her figure vanished. Luke’s eyes flicked to his right, following the sudden swirl of purple poison gas as it congealed into Sierra Ling’s silhouette once more. There was a burst of movement—like a serpent striking—before she appeared behind him, wearing a predatory grin.

"Since you won’t come peacefully, you can die," she spat. "The second you let your guard down, I’ll reduce you to a puddle."

This time, she didn’t rely on formal star patterns. For Sierra Ling, known among cultists as a "poison victim," standard magic circles were only tools.

She herself was the ultimate weapon. Scowling, she let her body dissolve into yet another morass of viscous toxins, a menacing purple swirl that spread in all directions.

Drops of caustic slime ate into the broken stone below, sizzling and giving off foul vapors.

Luke felt a surge of caution. Even with his formidable demonic energy shielding him, it would be reckless to let that lethal cloud engulf him. "I have to admit," he muttered, taking another defensive position, "these ’poison victims’ from your sect are twisted beyond belief."

He remembered reading scattered references to "disaster-bound magicians" in some forbidden texts—mages who integrated a piece of the dark plane’s malignant essence into themselves. They often wielded fearsome abilities far beyond typical super-level users.

Even so, Luke noted that Sierra Ling’s aura wasn’t at its peak; she was powerful, but her poison magic felt incomplete.

Standing on all fours, his massive wolf body tensed for a counterattack. He inhaled deeply, pulling the swirling dark demonic energy that lingered around him into his maw. As his chest expanded, each powerful breath devoured more of the black mist in the vicinity. To an onlooker, he might have looked like a colossal wolf ballooning in size.

Sierra Ling—mostly intangible at this point—whipped about, her malignant poison testing the edges of Luke’s aura for weaknesses.

"You can’t hide from me forever," her voice echoed in a distorted hiss. "My toxins will slip through eventually."

"Hide?" Luke let out a low growl that resonated through the air. "I’m doing the opposite of hiding."

Suddenly, his body contracted with a violent shudder. The demonic energy he had gathered compressed into a dense, pulsing sphere.

Its black surface shimmered with arcs of unholy brilliance. Drawing back, Luke hurled the sphere outward with immense force—so powerful, in fact, that it knocked his colossal form back a hundred meters.

The ball of concentrated darkness streaked through the air, devouring everything in its path. It reduced the damp grass to gray dust, vaporized puddles, and collapsed entire segments of architecture that still clung to the snailshell city.

At the precise center of its trajectory, Sierra Ling’s swirling toxins came together, eyes wide in disbelief.

She attempted to dodge, but the sphere’s suction forced her closer. Her expression turned to horror right before the attack engulfed her completely.

A shriek shattered the night—cut short when the black sphere annihilated the poison cloud in one enormous blast.

Even the storm seemed to flinch, as a brief hush fell over that section of the battlefield.

Once the dark orb finished its destructive path, remnants of purple gas scattered like dying embers, leaving no trace of Sierra Ling.

Luke continued to hover, scanning the shadows in case she’d escaped again. But the spot where she had stood was empty now—her malignant aura gone.

In the midst of verifying his victory, an unexpected tremor rippled through Luke’s mind. He stiffened, eyes flaring red for an instant as the resonance reverberated through him.

"Wh—what is this feeling?"

Within his inner cosmos, the "Poison" star-galaxy he had cultivated as part of his multi-element mastery now exploded with new vibrancy.

Purple constellations rippled outward, swelling far beyond their usual boundaries—like a rapid expansion threatening to spill across all his magic systems.

Luke fought to remain stable, mentally reining in the surging power.

A fleeting memory from ancient scripts came to him: When one "poison victim" dies, their role or ’talent’ in the magical plane can pass to a new host. That must be what was happening. Sierra Ling’s death had inadvertently transferred her "disaster" status to Luke.

"Damn it," Luke hissed, wrestling with the roiling energies. He felt like a vessel being overfilled with a toxic tide. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Yet, gradually, the raging flood of power settled. Though stunned, he realized his Poison element might now be among his strongest magical attributes—perhaps only overshadowed by his twin curses.

He half-laughed at the irony: Killing that twisted woman was actually beneficial for me.

Just as he steadied himself, a desperate voice echoed directly in his consciousness: "Luke! Help us!" It was Elias Vaughn’s telepathic call—urgent and tinged with panic.

Luke’s head snapped up. "Hazel and Elias must be in trouble," he growled, swiftly turning from the dissipating remains of battle. With a surge of his wings, he soared off toward the direction where Hazel Ross and Elias Vaughn had fled.

Meanwhile, Hazel hovered in the driving rain, golden Elf Wings thrumming behind her. She clutched Elias Vaughn’s hand.

The blood streaming from Elias’s shoulder was fresh and bright, evidence of a gruesome wound inflicted mere minutes ago. Rain mixed with the crimson rivulets, dripping from his fingertips.

A blond man stood opposite them, his posture nonchalant, but the pressure emanating from him was suffocating. He wore an expression of cool amusement, as though confident no one present could oppose him.

Every now and then, a faint shimmer of dark magic pulsed around him—an unsettling blend of curses and illusions.

"Apollo," Hazel whispered, eyes wide.

She sensed a horrifying depth to his power, far beyond what most super-level mages could handle. "Who...are you really? You speak of my father as though you know him intimately."