Wizard: Starting from the Skill Tree

However, on the surface of his body, a layer of dark golden armor began to coalesce, not put on, but growing from beneath his skin.

The armor covered his chest and abdomen, shoulders and back, arms and legs; each piece of armor was like polished metal, shimmering with a cold glint.

The surface of the armor bore intricate patterns, not runes but some ancient, living designs that flowed slowly.

Dark red magic sigils surfaced beneath Duke’s skin, spreading from his neck to his fingertips, from his chest to his waist, resembling a precise map and also a blazing flame.

The sigils flickered with his breath, causing the surrounding shadow energy to quiver with each pulse.

His hair grew longer, dropping from short to shoulder-length, changing from black to dark gold, with the tips rippling through the air, leaving faint spatial ripples.

Duke’s eyes changed, his pupils shifting from the human round to the slit of the Dark Race, black in color, with dark golden halos streaming around the edges.

Those eyes bore no emotion, indifferent, majestic, overlooking all beings.

Behind him, a pair of wings unfolded.

The wings were dark gold, metallic in texture, spanning over five meters, with edges sharp as blades. A gentle flap could tear a fine rift in the shadow space.

The framework of the wings glowed with a dark red light, the color of blood, the symbol of power.

Duke’s fingers turned into claws, nails extending into dark golden talons, each several inches long, blades sharp enough to seemingly slice through space.

This is the Dark Form.

Julius’ eyes widened, his mouth opened, yet no sound came out.

He looked at the Duke before him, at his three-meter-tall figure, the dark golden armor, the flowing sigils, and the dark golden halo burning in those slit eyes.

He felt that aura, the strength of a Level 3 Life, the potent aura of the Dark Bloodline.

Here, in the shadow space, this person’s aura was far stronger than any Great Mage he had ever encountered on the Oracle Plane.

It was an oppressive presence from higher up the food chain, making his very soul tremble.

Julius’ fingers trembled, his knees shook, his throat felt like being gripped by an invisible hand, struggling even to breathe.

He had lived for hundreds of years, seen countless strong beings, yet never had he felt such fear as he did today.

Instinctively, Julius sensed that standing before him was not a human, but some ancient, purer, more terrifying existence.

"You... you..." Julius’ voice was so hoarse it was barely audible, "Who are you... You can’t be the Child of Light... The Child of Light can’t possess such a bloodline... Who are you!"

Duke looked down, those dark golden slit pupils gazing at Julius.

He did not speak, simply raised his right hand, claws slicing through the shadow space, leaving five narrow spatial cracks.

Those cracks wriggled like living things, slowly healing with a sizzling sound.

Duke felt the surging power within him, his senses unprecedentedly keen in the Dark Form. He could feel the dark attribute energy flowing beneath his skin, like a second bloodstream, merging and resonating with his blood.

The Dark Bloodline whispered, not in sound, but in a deeper, instinctive manner, telling him that this was his domain, everything here belonged to him.

What Duke hadn’t expected was that the Elemental Holy Body seemed to bring additional enhancements to his Dark Form.

The body of Level 3 Life and the Dark Bloodline had achieved some balance within him, nourishing and amplifying each other.

Within the shadow space, dark attribute energy surged into his body like a tide, needing no active absorption, no deliberate guidance, automatically filling every cell.

The combination of the Level 3 Life body, the power of the Dark Bloodline, and the reinforcement of the Elemental Holy Body enabled him to truly exhibit Level 3 Dark Race strength here.

This was a real force capable of contending head-on with any Level 3 Life.

Since he was within the shadow space, Duke in this special form of the Dark Bloodline was already enough to mobilize the dark attribute rule power here.

Even if it was limited to the shadow space, it was already sufficient.

Julius looked at him, his dark eyes filled with fear.

The High Priest of the Shadow Council, an old man who had lived for hundreds of years, had seen countless powerful beings, but never had he been so afraid.

"You..." his voice was hoarse, lips trembling, "what exactly are you..."

Duke did not answer, simply taking a step forward.

The step was not large, yet it caused Julius to retreat three steps, the hem of his robe dragging a long mark in the dust.

He retreated until he was against a column, his back against the elongated pillar, leaving no more room to retreat.

Duke looked at him, those dark golden slit pupils devoid of pity.

"The Shadow Council wants to kill the Child of Light?" Duke’s voice was calm, but each word struck Julius’ chest like a heavy hammer, "You chose the wrong place. In the shadow space, you can’t kill me." He raised his right hand, the dark golden light on the claws growing increasingly bright, the surrounding shadow energy beginning to churn wildly, like the sea before a storm. "But I can kill you."

"Arrogant!" Julius’ voice squeezed through his teeth, no longer that hoarse calm of before, but with a desperation driven to madness.

He drew a black dagger from beneath his gray robe, its blade short, only hand-sized, wholly pitch-black, like it absorbed all surrounding light.

The blade was engraved with intricate runes, something ancient.

Julius gripped the dagger, shadow energy converging from all directions, gathering upon it.

The runes lit up one by one, a cerulean glow flowing over the dagger as if it had life.

The dagger began to breathe, expanding and contracting; with each contraction, it drew a massive amount of energy from the shadow space, each expansion releasing a biting chill.

Duke observed closely, feeling it seemed to be at the Level 3 Witchcraft Artifact level.

Yet this dagger seemed even more powerful than a Level 3 Witchcraft Artifact, sensed as a weapon forged by a Great Mage of this Plane using their life essence and blood.

Julius lunged from beneath his robe, his figure blurring within the shadow space, as if merging with the gray-white dust.

Duke remained motionless, standing quietly there, wings slightly unfurling behind him, dark golden armor glinting coldly in the gray-white light.

His senses had already locked onto Julius, no matter how he moved or flickered, he could not evade those slit eyes.

Julius made his move.

Like a specter, his presence almost imperceptible, the cold dagger gleamed with dim light, bearing highly concentrated dark attribute energy, thrusting toward Duke.

Duke’s wings behind him fluttered lightly, evading the strike in the blink of an eye.

Then, with a thought, Duke waved his hand.

The gray-white dust in the shadow space began to dance, as if stirred by some force.

The dust swirled, converged, condensed, forming a massive vortex above his palm.

The vortex grew larger, deeper, like an opening eye. The pupil of the eye was a dark purple, its edges burning with black flames.

The gigantic Eye of Shadow slowly closed, then suddenly opened wide.

A thick dark purple beam of light shot from the eye, exploding mid-air into countless tiny light points scattering in all directions.

Those light points coalesced into numerous dark purple chains, winding toward Julius from all directions.

The chains passed through his body, his limbs, his neck, pinning him firmly in place.

He struggled, roared, cursed, but the chains didn’t budge.

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