Chapter 302: Demonic Hands Awaken

Luke stared at his transformed hands. The skin had become a dark, pulsing mass, alive with veins that writhed beneath the surface. For a moment he was caught in it, a mix of fascination and unease edging toward fear. He drew a slow breath, focused, and willed the skill to stop.

The change receded like liquid obeying gravity. The blackness retreated from his fingertips to his palms, sliding under the skin until it vanished. In the blink of an eye his hands were normal again, as if nothing had happened.

He lifted one hand toward the water. An invisible pull snapped through the air, and his kukri, the curved blade he had dropped, shivered and flew back to his grip, drawn by the magnetism embedded in his power. The moment he caught it, he noticed the greenish acid glow had faded. He frowned.

“Does the acid vanish after I throw it?” he muttered under his breath.

The power was still too new. He had tested a fraction of it, but most of its effects were still a mystery.

Luke closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. His pulse sped up as he summoned the power again. Heat rolled down his arms. Microfissures split open across his skin, too fine to see at a glance, and the same viscous dark liquid seeped out, coating his fingers and palms like a living gauntlet.

The kukri flared black-green as soon as he gripped it, the blade drinking in the energy. He opened his hand and let the weapon drop onto the damp ground. For a few seconds the acid glow lingered, then ebbed away.

“So this is your new power? Interesting,” Allison said as she walked closer, her tone a blend of curiosity and caution.

“A little,” Luke answered, still studying his hands.

“Looks like your attacks got a lot stronger with that skill.” She crossed her arms, watching every detail.

He gave a small nod. He had explained the basics to her, but this was still the testing phase. They needed to understand each other’s skills if they wanted any chance at the final battle.

“Does it hurt your own skin?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Luke glanced at the long, black nails now crowning his fingers. He pressed one against his arm. Nothing. He picked up the kukri and brushed its edge along his forearm. Still nothing.

“I’m immune to my own acid,” he said, a flicker of relief in his voice.

“At least that,” Allison murmured, eyes dropping to the damp kukri.

Unlike most skills he had seen, or even his own enchanted arrow, this one felt stable, safe for him, but not for anyone else.

“Time to test how it works on something living,” she said, matter-of-fact.

“What? No.” Luke stepped back, lifting the kukri.

“We have to know its reaction. We need to test it on every kind of creature we find.”

“Then I’ll test it only on monsters.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She gave a short laugh, almost amused. “Touch my breastplate. See if your hand can burn through to what’s underneath. We’re about to face a Lord who could be using enchanted gear. You know the risk? None of the Lords wore heavy armor, not even the Orc Lord. He fought practically naked. If the Midnight Lord is more like a Warden, we’re in trouble.”

Still, he was uncomfortable.

“Put your hand on my stomach,” she said, pointing.

“This is kind of weird…”

“Why?” she tilted her head. “You’re immune to your own damage. Charlie, even when summoned, is a skeleton and also immune. That leaves me.”

“Nothing,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “If it hurts, tell me.”

He stepped closer, lowering the demon-slicked hand to her armor at waist level, and held it there for a few seconds.

“It seems to be eating at the armor a little,” Allison noted, watching the point of contact. “With prolonged exposure it might even corrode the equipment completely.”

“In a real fight it wouldn’t last that long,” Luke replied, taking the kukri back. “You’re not about to ask me to actually hurt you with this, are you?”

“Test it.”

He exhaled heavily. Bracing the blade against her armor, he pressed. The metal gave way far too easily, soft as melted butter.

“Ow…” Allison muttered, stepping back.

“Sorry.” Luke shut the skill down and watched his hands fade back to normal. He tapped the blade to her armor again—nothing.

“It really is the power of the skill. That extra acid damage could be a huge advantage.” He spun the kukri absently, thinking.

“Luke…” Allison’s tone had changed. “The pain isn’t stopping…”

His head snapped up. “What?”

She took another step back and with a quick flick of her menu dismissed part of her armor. Beneath, the shirt was torn, a scorched ring exposing reddened skin. She lifted the fabric, revealing the burn blooming across her stomach. The acid was still working, eating slowly, a metallic tang rising from it.

“Look… the effect is still corroding my flesh,” she said with almost clinical calm.

“Why are you calm about this? This is serious!” Luke was already fumbling with the amulet that opened his pocket dimension. “I just used an epic skill on you.”

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Allison lowered her shirt, drawing a steady breath. “At least now we know the acid keeps working after the initial hit.”

“That’s not comforting…” He dumped several potions at once, glass rolling across the damp ground. “The skill mixes blood with the black mist. When it touched your skin, it must have amplified and spread…” He was muttering, trying to reason it out even as his heart pounded.

“I’m not fragile. Don’t worry,” Allison said, though the hard line of her mouth betrayed discomfort.

“Fine, but drink a healing potion now.”

She crouched and began rummaging through the bottles. For this trip to the capital, each of them had received five healing potions they had gotten from the Safe Zone event.

“There’s ketchup in here…” she said, holding up a vial with a grimace.

“There’s a little of everything,” Luke answered distractedly, eyes flicking to her wound.

She sorted through more flasks.

“Don’t drag it out, Allison. Drink it. That wound could get worse.”

“Relax. I know my limits.” She glanced up at him, a hint of curiosity slipping through the pain. “What even are these potions?”

“Defective ones. At worst they give someone a stomachache.”

She gave a short laugh. “And why do you keep them? You can’t beat an enemy by giving them a stomachache.”

Luke coughed, memories flickering. “I’ve got my reasons…”

“You sure I won’t drink the wrong one?” she teased, twirling a vial between her fingers.

“Healing potions are red. You can’t miss them,” Luke said, trying to sound firm.

Allison held one up to the dim light. “I know. I’m just messing with you.”

Then Luke remembered. “Just don’t drink the pinkish-red one—” but the words left his mouth at the exact moment she tipped a potion back in a single swallow.

Allison froze, smile fading. “What’s the difference, Luke?”