My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

The sun rose from the horizon into the bleak grey sky of Lysithara. As its light climbed higher, the last of the creatures from the rift disappeared… like a cloud of black fog dissipating into the wind…

These nightmares left behind no corpses… it was almost as their names suggested… illusions born from some endless nightmare, meant only to bring horror upon the world.

Damon quietly listened as the last echoes of battle faded… the horrors of Lysithara slowly retreating back to where they belonged… as if the dire need to battle the creatures had itself been nothing but an illusion.

The city returned to its ruined silence… but this time, it carried more scars than before.

Sylvia sighed, relief washing over her.

“We survived yet another ordeal…”

Damon nodded, his brows furrowed.

“I think it’s almost sad… no, it is sad… yet beautiful…”

Sylvia tilted her head as the rays of sunlight washed over the ruined cathedral.

“How so?”

He shook his head, a somber look crossing his face.

“It’s just… some of these creatures had once called Lysithara home before the rot. It’s beautiful because, even now—corrupted and broken—they rose to protect it…”

Sylvia nodded quietly.

“And the sadness… is it because they’re always fighting? Always trapped in war?”

He chuckled sadly.

“Yeah… but it’s not just them… it’s our whole world. Everywhere, every day… we are always at war. Why is that? Why can’t our world have peace?”

Sylvia nodded, her gaze heavy.

“That’s actually blasphemy… but since it’s just the two of us, I can share something.”

Damon raised an eyebrow, sensing she knew something he didn’t.

Sylvia smiled faintly, guessing his thoughts.

“It’s nothing so grand… just hypotheses from some great minds.”

She leaned against the crumbling wall.

“You’re not the first to come to that conclusion. Some scholars came to the same thought… our world, it’s not normal. Other worlds exist, and they have wars too, but not like ours. We’re always at war…”

She looked at him seriously. Even now, they were at war among themselves, not to mention with the demon races—their greatest enemies. Without demons, they would simply tear each other apart instead.

“This is considered blasphemous. The Temple executed anyone who thought or wrote about such things…”

Damon scoffed with disdain. He already saw that coming.

Sylvia sighed.

“Who knows… maybe it’s because we worship a goddess of doom. Maybe our world is always moving towards self-destruction. War is part of doom, after all…”

She turned her gaze to the statue in the cathedral. Her brow furrowed.

“Hmm… I didn’t know the goddess was ever depicted with four wings…”

Damon raised an eyebrow.

“She isn’t…”

Sylvia crossed the threshold of the ruined cathedral, walking toward the altar at the center where the statue stood.

Damon frowned and followed her. Their actions didn’t go unnoticed—Evangeline raised a brow, setting her sword down, while Xander, leaning by a broken pillar, raised his head slightly. Leona and Matia, mid-arm wrestling match, froze and glanced over.

One by one, they all followed Sylvia and Damon to the altar.

Sylvia stopped in front of it, her eyes lifting to the massive statue of the goddess of doom.

Unlike a mere temple, this was a cathedral—an ancient and sacred place.

The statue depicted a woman in a veil, standing proud, her features hidden behind the cloth. She held a sword in one hand, and even as a statue, an imposing will radiated from her—one that spoke not only of doom but something more… something eternal.

Damon had seen many statues of the goddess, but this one felt almost alive.

Still, that wasn’t what caught his eye.

Behind the statue, on the cathedral wall, was a hidden mark. From the entrance, it appeared as though the goddess had four wings—but it was merely an illusion created by the placement of the mark.

The mark depicted an abyss, with two swords and four wings… it radiated a feeling of good and evil, purity and depravity, all at once. It was right—but it was also wrong.

Damon recognized the feeling immediately. He had felt the same way when he saw the mark on Lilith.

This… this was the mark of the Unknown God.

Sylvia stared at it, part of the wall shattered, but the mark remained untouched.

Xander’s hand trembled.

“What… is this blasphemous place… how…”

Damon narrowed his eyes.

“This was a cathedral built to worship the goddess… and yet here, there’s a mark of the Unknown God…”

His mind raced. How had they even found this place?

He glanced at Sylvia slightly. Of course… it was Sylvia who had led them here, seeking safety—but Sylvia herself had been led here by the Unknown Journey Book.

Damon realized it now…

It wasn’t ancient magic left behind by the people of Lysithara that kept the rift creatures away…

It was because this place carried the divine authority of both the Goddess of Doom and the Unknown God.

For a long moment, silence hung heavy in the cathedral.

Sylvia took a deep breath.

“How is this possible… why is there a mark of the Unknown God—worshiped by demons—here, in a cathedral of the goddess?”

The others said nothing, unease written on their faces.

Damon sighed.

“Probably because… the people of Lysithara once gave faith to both.”

He walked up to the altar, noticing a dusty old book resting on it.

He blew away the thick layer of dust.

The others tensed behind him.

Evangeline bit her lip.

“Should you really touch that thing…”

He sighed, placing a hand on the book.

“Do you want to find out the truth or not?”

He turned the fragile pages carefully, eyes narrowing as he read aloud:

“‘I pray for a time when Doom meets the Abyss. I pray… may the will of the unseen Sovereign be complete. May all suffering come to an end… Signed, Mugu.’”

He read the last part with a degree of surprise. It wasn’t the first time he had heard that name…

Before he could say anything, the entire cathedral began to vibrate—stone groaning as the altar shifted backward, opening a narrow dark stairwell that led deep beneath the earth.

Damon looked back at the others. They stared at him, expressions torn between fear and determination.

Leona bit her lip, voice low.

“Now what?”