Page 31 of The Dark Lord Awakens
He moved to the center of the training floor with the grace of someone who definitely knows how to tango but pretends not to at office parties. “Perhaps a demonstration? Attack me using whatever combination of abilities you wish.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? I might not have perfect control yet.”
A small, confident smile curved his lips. “I have survived your training sessions for centuries, my lord. I believe I can manage whatever creative destruction you devise.”
That smile did something strange to my insides—a flutter that felt like I’d swallowed a butterfly sanctuary. I pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the challenge he’d presented, because apparently, I’m a sucker for proving myself to impossibly attractive demon butlers.
Combinations. In the game, certain abilities could be chained together for devastating effect. Shadow Step into Dark Armory was a basic one, teleporting behind an enemy while simultaneously summoning a weapon. But what about something more complex? Something that would really make Azrael’s perfectly styled hair stand on end?
I closed my eyes briefly, letting instinct guide me while my brain helpfully suggested, “Do the cool thing from level seventy-two where you made all those shadow clones and the guild chat exploded with people calling you a hacker!”
When I opened my eyes, I was already moving, shadow energy swirling around me like living smoke with serious attitude problems.
First, I activated Void Perception, expanding my awareness to track Azrael’s position with perfect precision. Then Shadow Step, but instead of a single teleport, I fragmented into multiple shadow forms, each one partially real, creating confusion about my true location like the world’s deadliest shell game.
As the shadows converged, I channeled Abyssal Flames into my blade, the dark fire extending its reach and destructive potential. The combined effect was spectacular—multiple shadow versions of me attacking simultaneously, each wielding a sword of black flame that made lightsabers look like dollar store glow sticks.
“Surprise!” seven versions of me called out simultaneously, which was both effective and deeply weird to experience from multiple perspectives at once.
Azrael responded with impressive skill, identifying the real me among the decoys and focusing his defense there. But he couldn’t counter all the shadow duplicates, and one scored a glancing hit on his shoulder, the dark fire leaving a smoldering mark on his training clothes.
I immediately dismissed the flames, concern replacing combat focus. “Shit, are you okay? I didn’t mean to actually barbecue you. Medium-rare butler was not on today’s menu.”
To my surprise, Azrael was smiling—a real smile, not his usual controlled expression that looked like he was afraid his face might crack if he showed too much emotion. “Perfectly fine, my lord. Abyssal Flames require direct intent to cause serious harm. You were holding back.”
He touched the scorched fabric, which crumbled to ash under his fingers but revealed unmarked skin beneath. “An impressive combination. Your shadow fragmentation technique has evolved—previously, you could create no more than three duplicates. I counted seven.”
“Lucky number,” I quipped, trying to hide how relieved I was that I hadn’t accidentally turned my butler into demonic toast. “So that worked? Because from my end it felt like trying to watch seven TVs at once while also being on fire.”
“Exceedingly well,” he confirmed. “Though such complex combinations drain magical reserves quickly. In prolonged combat, simpler techniques often prove more sustainable.”
He approached, his movements carrying that predatory grace that seemed to be his default setting. “Your power has grown during your slumber, my lord. The combinations you once found challenging now come naturally to you.”
There was genuine admiration in his voice, and something else—a kind of hunger that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the way his eyes kept drifting over me like I was an all-you-can-eat buffet after a famine. The look made my pulse quicken, a reaction I wasn’t entirely prepared for because being attracted to your possibly homicidal demon butler wasn’t covered in theSo You’ve Been Transported to Another Worldhandbook.
“Well, I had a good teacher,” I said, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. “You know what they say—behind every successful dark lord is an impeccably dressed butler with throwing knives hidden in his sleeves.”
“You honor me, my lord,” he replied softly. “Though I have merely helped refine what was already exceptional.”
The air between us felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes or someone suggests karaoke at an office party. Part of me—a growing, insistent part—wanted to close thatdistance, to discover what would happen if I acted on the tension that had been building between us since I’d opened my eyes to find him hovering over me like the world’s most attractive harbinger of doom.
Instead, I cleared my throat, taking a step back because I’m apparently a coward even with level ninety-nine shadow powers. “Same time tomorrow? I want to work on those combinations some more. Maybe see if I can make eight shadow clones. Go for a personal best.”
If Azrael was disappointed by my retreat, he didn’t show it. His perfect butler mask slipped back into place as he bowed slightly. “Of course, my lord. I am, as always, at your service.”
As he turned to leave, I called after him: “Azrael?”
He paused at the door. “Yes, my lord?”
“Thank you. Not just for the training, but for… being patient. With all the changes. I know I’m probably not exactly what you expected after three hundred years.”
Something softened in his expression—so briefly I almost missed it. “Change is the nature of existence, my lord. Even for beings such as ourselves.”
With that enigmatic comment, he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the lingering sensation of shadow magic dancing across my skin like caffeinated spiders.
I created a small construct in my palm, watching it take the shape of a sword before shifting into a flame, then a shield—forms responding to my idle thoughts like the world’s most deadly fidget toy. The power felt natural now, an extension of myself rather than a foreign tool.
“Well, Beau,” I murmured to myself, “at least if I’m stuck in a demon lord’s body, it’s one that knows how to kick ass and look good doing it. Definite upgrade from dying in a call center.”
