My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Damon crept up the flight of stairs, Sylvia and Evangeline silently following behind him. The upper floor was mostly a wide seating area—its design reminded him of the academy. Just like back there, it was divided into separate lounges and compartments.

The more enclosed the space the more lavish the design. Opulence at every turn even then even amid the former grandeur.

Disparities existed. This created an ugly feeling within Damon’s heart as well as a twisted sense if resignation.

‘It seems inequities existed even in ancient times…’ he thought bitterly. ‘No matter how often people talk about creating equality, it’s an impossible concept. Even the heavens decree none shall be equal.’

Mountains weren’t equal. Some trees grew taller, some greener. He wished inequality was a man-made creation, but it wasn’t.

Even the sheep in his village made no effort to feed the weaker lambs… it was everywhere.

And he was no different. His mana was weaker—flawed—while his sister had too much. Yet fate still dealt her a cruel hand; she was too sick to use it.

He’d tried giving up once.

But giving up was a lot harder than it sounded. So he kept going, trudging forward through the fire, even if it was hell.

He shook himself from the bleak spiral. He was used to persevering. After all, he was a failure who’d even failed at giving up.

“You’re quite an oddity sometimes…” Evangeline whispered.

Damon turned, shooting her a glare. “Shush… or you’ll give away our location.”

She bit her lip and nodded. He was right—how could they ambush their enemy if they were making noise like bumbling novices?

Sylvia tapped Evangeline’s shoulder, and the two followed behind Damon as he stepped carefully over debris.

He made sure not to touch anything—not the decaying tables, nor the hosts that were now nothing but corpses.

Ever since arriving in Lysithara, he had tried feeding his shadow with these ancient bodies. But they were too old, too far gone—spoiled meat.

Some were men. Most were women.

“The ladies and dames loved this place,” Valarie’s voice whispered from the pair of lips on his shoulder, shattering the silence.

“Zaci’s Sweet Shop used to be a place of romance… women came for the sweets, and men came for the women… and Zaci, he loved the business it brought.”

Damon exhaled sharply. Did none of these women know how to shut up? They were sneaking into enemy territory, not gossiping in a tavern.

“Shut up. You’re making noise,” he hissed.

Sylvia had expected that. That was why she kept her mouth shut in the first place.

“…”

Valarie was speechless… and also a little appalled.

“You really have no respect for your teachers, do you? Fine. I suppose I shouldn’t tell you about the presence I sensed at the third floor entrance, or the fact Thren’s enthralled some of the other Mist Knights… or that they’re setting an ambush.”

Damon’s eye twitched. He wanted nothing more than to stomp this smug pair of lips into the ground. But he needed her.

He forced a calm smile. “Oh really, teacher Vala—no, master Valarie… please, enlighten us.”

The lips curled into a cold smile.

“I can feel your desire to stomp on me… you really are shameless.”

She let out a sigh. “But fine… I’ll do it for the girls.”

Evangeline and Sylvia watched the strange exchange between Damon and the talking mouth on his shoulder in silence.

“I wish I could unsee all the things I’ve seen,” Evangeline muttered.

“Throw my coin in the wishing well too,” Sylvia replied.

Damon’s plan had been risky from the start. But it seemed the enemy had caught wind of it.

After all, this was its turf. They knew how the city had changed better than Valarie, who’d been sealed away for thousands of years.

“He has a magic artifact,” Valarie said quietly.

“It can enthrall the minds of anyone he defeats. He didn’t use it much when he was still uncorrupted—it strained the human mind. But now… he doesn’t care…. Or have much of a mind.. to strain.”

Damon glanced at Sylvia. She was already activating her skill.

“Can we take them… just the three of us?” he asked.

Sylvia paused. Before she could answer, Valarie spoke again.

“You can. He can only use that on people one rank below him. Plus, they lose much of their strength. They’re just living puppets.”

Sylvia’s eyes widened slightly as she took a slow breath.

“He spent years hunting down every Mist Knight weaker than himself,” she said quietly.

“it says he didn’t want to be surrounded by corpses. In his madness, he tried to recreate something familiar. Now he surrounds himself with a false order—empty husks with no will. Nothing like the true knights of Lysithara… once feared across the realm.”

Damon nodded slowly and looked at Valarie.

“How sad… I suppose I wasn’t the only one who suffered over the years. My people suffered too. Thren was always a loner, even in our golden days. But he was kind… tricky, but kind.”

She paused for a moment, her voice softer than before.

“I beg you—behind those doors are once great warriors. Now, they suffer. Please… put them out of their misery.”

Damon exhaled and drew his sword from a makeshift sheath.

Good. A chance to kill Mist Knights and level up. A godsend… assuming he didn’t die.

“Your debt to us just keeps growing. You better help us find a way back home after this.”

Valarie chuckled faintly. “I can’t wait to be rid of you. I’ll gladly send you back just to get you out of my life.”

“You’re dead though.” Damon retorted glancing at the pair of delicate lips.

“Out of my afterlife.” she corrected herself.

Sylvia turned to Damon.

“We have a good chance… but what’s the plan?”

Damon grinned.

“We don’t want the other three getting overwhelmed and killed before we finish him, so…”

He kicked the door down with a thunderous crash.

“Let’s kill them quickly.”