My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 333 - 334: A Desire To Be Needed

Being party leader was a glorious job. You got all the limelight, all the glory. The more fame the party gained, the more you benefited.

At least, that was the story—how it went in the tales and fables.

Truth be told, it was a shitty job.

You had to organize the party… keep a bunch of wayward lunatics with extreme individuality together as a cohesive force. If the party rose, you rose. If it fell, you fell too. And sometimes, it came with really shitty chores.

What chores, you ask?

Well... hmmm.

Perhaps the shitty job of carrying a living pair of lips.

And that wasnʼt even a figure of speech. Damon was literally—truly—carrying a pair of living lips. The lips of a woman long dead… after goddess knows how many centuries.

Damon had done a lot of things. Once, heʼd bitten off the eyes of a war troll. Heʼd even hugged a hideous beldam.

But this… this took the cake.

The lips were small and delicate, perched on his shoulder. However there was no body, absolutely no pyshical form.

She had no tongue in her mouth, if anything her mouth was see through, in the sense that you could peer through it like a peep hole.

Valarieʼs lips should have been beautiful—if her body wasnʼt long gone.

Now it was just creepy.

Damon smiled bitterly. It almost reminded him of the first time he caught a toad in his village.

Completely starved, he barely roasted it before he and his sister forced it down their throats.

The thought of his village shoved the revulsion away—replacing it with a different kind of bile. The desire to slaughter them all. Even after all these years, Damon couldnʼt bring himself to forgive… or forget.

The insults, the pain..the isolation, the betrayal. Forgiveness was not something he had in him.

He closed his eyes, grounding himself in the dire reality. He wouldnʼt get the chance for revenge if he died in Lysithara.

Right now, he had the power to kill them—all of them.

A shame, though. He was thousands of miles away, trapped in a death zone.

If not blood would flow.

”Why such a grim look... I can feel your killing intent from all the way here...”

The lips—Valarie Sunwardenʼs lips—spoke from his shoulder.

They twisted slightly, as if annoyed.

”Donʼt tell me youʼre disgusted by whatʼs left of me. Iʼll have you know, I was one of the most beautiful women in Lysithara. Not to mention your predecessor...”

Damon sneered. Her words dragged him back. He would survive. Killing them was just one of the reasons.

In the end, those people were merely side characters in his life.

”You arenʼt so beautiful now, are you? Come to think of it, what are you, anyway? Are you an undead?”

Valarieʼs lips pressed together—surprisingly expressive even without a face.

”Boy, it seems you have no respect for women… or your elders...”

Evangeline scoffed, walking up the stairwell.

”Sheʼs only known you for a few minutes and she can already tell...”

Damon ignored Evangelineʼs words, he would not bicker with her today.

Leona sighed, coming to his defense. Although to a third party observer it may not have seemed that way.

”Come on, Evangeline. Heʼs a better person now. The old him mightʼve stepped on her a few times for good measure...”

Matia, armored head to toe at the rear, grunted. ”Huh. He would.”

Xander sneered with mild irritation. ”He wouldʼve done worse. You donʼt know him like we do.”

Matia remained quite she didnʼt know him as well as they did. However she could paint a picture.

Valarieʼs lips were silent, as if staring at Damon.

ʼAhh... why do I always get the troubled children among my students? Everyone elseʼs are always so good and obedient...ʼ

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. ”Why do I feel like youʼre including the rest of us in that complaint?”

Damon smiled. Of course, she was.

Valarie scoffed, even as a pair of lips.

”You look like youʼd help him commit a crime.”

Sylviaʼs eyes widened. She looked away from Damon.

”We shouldʼve left her to rot…”

Damon walked out of the stairwell. It was still morning.

They hadnʼt spent much time underground—just enough to free Valarie and grab a few books under her instruction.

He looked around the broken cathedral. The statue of the goddess loomed behind them, the mark of the Unknown God etched into the wall behind her.

Xander muttered as he stared at it.

”Heresy…”

Damon said nothing.

Faith in the Unknown God was considered heresy, even though some places—like Vuldren—openly embraced it.

Valarie was quiet for a moment.

”Yes, it is. But it wasnʼt always…”

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. ”What are you talking about…?”

Damon and the others waited in silence, listening.

”I... I donʼt remember. But… faith in the Unseen Sovereign… it gave us choice... When Mugu spoke of it, he mentioned free magic. Magic without attributes. The elders… ahhh… my head...”

The lips groaned, pained—trying to recall something long buried.

Damon frowned. ”You donʼt have a head. Youʼre a pair of lips.”

Valarie was quiet for a while before speaking softly.

”I suppose so… More reason for me to rest.”

Sylvia glanced at Damon, clearly asking for his permission. Sylvia Moonveil always thirsted for knowledge. Thatʼs who she was.

Maybe thatʼs why she kept using that vile book—despite the pain, despite the price.

Damon wanted to know, too.

That same burning question lingered in his mind.

Sylviaʼs voice broke the silence, eyes focused on the lips.

”Who is Mugu?”

Valarie was silent—as if pulling the memory from some deep, dark crypt.

”Mugu was a young man… from the Doom Continent. He became Valcaraʼs apprentice. Eventually, he learned from all of us. Driven by a single-minded desire that would later… break him.”

She paused. The words seemed painful.

”His drive became resentment. With no one to turn his blade on, he turned it to the heavens.

And the heavens responded.

That… was the beginning of the end….the prelude to the unknown god..”