My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

The forest was silent—not even the chirping of birds disturbed the stillness. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting golden beams across the undergrowth, creating a scene of serene beauty. But the young boy standing beneath the ancient tree had no room in his heart to appreciate it.

He wore little more than rags, his frail frame barely covered from the elements. His blue eyes were dull, lifeless, the weight of exhaustion evident in the deep shadows beneath them. In his trembling hands, he held a frayed rope. He tied it to a thick, sturdy branch, securing it with a knot, then stepped onto a log.

The noose hung before him. He reached for it with shaking fingers, slipping it over his head. The rough fibers scratched against his skin, but he paid it no mind. His expression remained empty, his mind already resigned.

A quiet whisper escaped his lips.

“I’m sorry… Luna…”

With that, he moved to kick the log away.

But as he shifted his weight, his foot nudged something—a half-buried stone nestled among the roots of the ancient tree. His eyes flickered down, noticing faint carvings on its surface. Something about the weathered inscription drew him in, held him in place.

His fingers hesitated on the rope.

Then, slowly, he pulled it off his neck.

‘It won’t be too late to die after I read it…’

He stepped down, his curiosity overriding his despair, and knelt before the stone. His fingers brushed away the dirt and moss, revealing the words etched into its surface. He read them, his lips moving silently, his breath catching in his throat.

Time passed, but he didn’t move. His dull blue eyes gradually sharpened, an icy hue overtaking them as something deep inside him shifted. The cold disregard for his life remained—but now, it was accompanied by something else. A stubborn, reckless defiance.

“If I’m going to die anyway… why not live as if I was already dead?”

His fists clenched.

“Until I can save Luna… I will live. I dare to live.”

Years passed. His once-icy blue eyes darkened, shadowed by the hardships he had endured. But the reckless defiance that had been born on that day never wavered. It drove him forward, pushed him beyond reason, made him fight even when others called him a fool for refusing to bow his head.

Dead men need not bow.

What did they have to fear? Death?

They were already dead.

And that was why he would not run now.

The ground trembled. The war trolls barreled toward him, their monstrous forms tearing through the forest like harbingers of doom. If they were the hands of the goddess of death, then so be it.

He would join her in her divine realm.

But he would not go alone.

Either he would take them with him—

—Or he would send them there alone.

The ground thundered as the war trolls reached him, their massive forms skidding to a halt. The sun had long since vanished beyond the horizon, leaving only the dim glow of the stars above. Their hulking bodies were stained with dried blood—likely from their rampage through the treacherous mountains. The horrors of the Duhu Mountains were not welcoming, even to creatures as formidable as them.

The war troll in front, Tusk, surveyed the scene before him. At the center of what had once been the mountain path stood a figure clad in writhing black armor. It did not resemble traditional plate armor; instead, it moved, living tendrils of shadow rising and shifting unnaturally around its form. The very ground beneath it seemed to merge with the darkness of the armor, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. For a brief moment, Tusk thought it might be one of the ancient evils of the Duhu Mountains—one of the cursed things that lurked in the deep places of the world.

But no.

This thing… it smelled like a human.

A human drenched in blood.

Tusk tightened his grip on the massive battle axe resting on his shoulder. The prints in the dirt told him others had been here… but had left.

His deep, guttural voice rumbled.

“You stay to die, human? Not know your kind so brave.”

Beside him, the second troll, Huge, clutched a massive club, his beady yellow eyes scanning the darkness.

“Where other goddess races go?”

The figure did not move. The shadows clung to him like a second skin. Only after a moment did he slowly raise his head.

“I stayed to kill you.”

His voice was quiet, cold.

He lifted his gaze fully.

“Do you want to fight me one-on-one… or do both of you wish to die together?”

The trolls exchanged glances—then burst into laughter.

This thing was just a human.

A human child.

No sword. No axe. Not even the signs of a first-class advancement. He wasn’t even an adult yet. How could they take this seriously?

Huge snorted, baring his stained teeth. “Tusk, this human buy time for others to escape.”

Tusk nodded. That had to be it. But no matter. Killing him would be easy.

The larger of the two trolls stepped forward, resting his axe in the dirt.

“Then me fight you in duel.” He glanced at Huge. “You go. Catch other goddess races before they escape.”

Huge grinned, his tusks gleaming in the moonlight, before thundering off into the darkness. As he passed, the wind howled in his wake.

BANG.

Tusk slammed his war axe into the earth, placing his massive hands atop the hilt.

“Human wish to duel. Very brave. Human trap, kill Hand—dishonorable. But Tusk give you honorable duel to death. May goddess and unknown god take you.”

Damon said nothing.

Tusk took the silence as acceptance of his fate.

What could this human do? He was tired. He reeked of his own blood. He could barely stand. Even at his best, he would not last long. And now? He was nothing more than a lamb to the slaughter.

Tusk was stronger. Bigger. His rank was higher. He had survived years of war, clashing with warriors far greater than this boy. His body could regenerate wounds that would kill lesser creatures, and the monstrous vitality of a war troll meant he could keep fighting for days if needed.

This thing before him?

It was an insult.

Tusk raised his axe lazily. He would end this quickly, then catch up to Huge and slaughter the others.

But then…

The human moved.

It was subtle.

A slow lift of his head.

Tusk, who had been watching him carefully, suddenly felt his gut clench. He couldn’t see the human’s face—not through all that unnatural shadow. But the moment the boy raised his head, the air itself seemed to die.

An aura of dread poured out from him like an open wound, raw and suffocating. The very wind around them turned sharp and cold, stinging at Tusk’s skin. His breath hitched. His hands trembled.

For the first time in decades…

He felt fear.

This…

This feeling… it’s the same as when I faced a high-ranking demon…

Tusk roared, forcing himself to move past the instinct to run. He lifted his massive axe high above his head and brought it down in a crushing blow, aiming to split the human in two—

BOOM.

The ground exploded beneath the force of the strike, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air.

Tusk narrowed his eyes, stepping back slightly, waiting for the dust to settle.

And when it did—

His blood ran cold.

The human was still standing.

A crater marked where the axe had landed, but the boy had sidestepped it effortlessly, untouched by the attack. Shadows curled at his feet, writhing like hungry serpents.

Tusk’s mind barely had time to register this when—

The human moved.

Faster than his eyes could follow.

A blur of black streaked up the length of his axe—

Damon was already upon him.

Jumping onto the massive weapon, running up its length—

And then—

He launched himself straight for Tusk’s face.

With a crack, his heel slammed into the troll’s skull in a brutal dropkick.