My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Lysithara was bleak and beautiful, its dying sun casting a solemn light over the ruined city. Even in its crumbling state, there was a certain grace to it—like a mausoleum where the dead refused to stay dead, and the living were slowly consumed by rot.

With the sun beginning to set, Damon blinked at the horizon, realizing he had no idea how time had slipped by so quickly.

It felt as if they’d only just left the ruined cathedral a few hours ago… yet a whole day had passed. Once again, he questioned whether it was just him, but his perception of time felt severely skewed.

Had they really spent an entire day dealing with Mist Knight Thren? He might’ve argued the point—if his current condition wasn’t so dire.

They had returned to find Xander, Matia, and Leona surrounded by a horde of undead.

Without Thren’s control, the creatures had lost all coordination and were swiftly wiped out. Afterward, Damon had insisted the party move—somewhere, anywhere to rest.

Valarie, or rather, the discarnate soul now possessing her own lips, had offered a shortcut. Obviously, there was no chance of finding a proper waypoint, so a temporary resting spot was their only option.

Damon gritted his teeth. That had been a terrible idea. He panted heavily, sweat streaking down his brow. He wanted to curse the pair of lips lodged in his shoulder but realized he had been the fool for trusting her outdated memory of Lysithara.

The city had clearly changed over the millennia she’d been sealed away.

Rawrrr!

A deafening roar thundered behind them, and Damon didn’t need a second warning—he ran faster.

Something was chasing them. Something furious.

“This is all your fault, Damon—!”

Xander was running for his life but still found the energy to throw blame.

Damon was appalled. “My fault?! You should blame Valarie! The stupid pair of lips is obviously the one to blame!”

Evangeline gritted her teeth. “Shut up and run! We have to find a place to rest before sunset!”

Valarie’s lips curled into a smug smile. “That’s right, you ungrateful children. Respect your elders.”

Evangeline howled, “Shut up!”

Valarie bit her own lip—though that was all she had—and muttered, “This one is quite rude… she must be related to Damon.”

Sylvia clutched the supply bag tighter as she sprinted, the wind whipping through her white hair. Why did these things keep happening to them?

Earlier, on Valarie’s guidance, they’d stumbled across a potential resting place.

Damon, being Damon, had noticed a larger, more luxurious building nearby—something that looked like it had survived centuries of abandonment with minimal decay. Evangeline had warned him not to get sidetracked by worldly desires, and in response, she got a full lecture on privilege. She was used to it—didn’t believe a word of it.

Sylvia bit her lip. They’d been played.

Damon was a parasite who knew how to get people to do what he wanted. He spun a sob story about living on the streets, eating rotten bread from gutters.

They all knew he was manipulating them, but the story was just sad enough to work.

In the end, Leona had declared she wanted the building before Damon could stake his claim, which meant the entire party had to help her take it. She insisted.

Sylvia sighed. She didn’t even care where they slept anymore.

She vaulted over a broken wall just as a stream of acid blasted past, the ground trembling from the massive, raging abomination behind them.

Matia leapt, freezing the acidic pool ahead into a thin icy path. She kept running, though she longed to fly—but her wings were gone.

They really shouldn’t have gone into that house…

The building had a biometric lock—one of the innovations brought in by the Outsiders from their mysterious realm. Valarie had claimed they were a Type Seven civilization, but even the ancient scholars of Lysithara hadn’t unraveled the full truth.

The Outsiders remained a mystery.

Not that any of that mattered to Matia—not then, not now.

They had expected some big boss lurking inside. Instead, they found something… wrong.

Matia jumped over a shattered pillar as the sun dipped even lower.

The house did have a monster, just not one they’d expected. It was a malformed creature at the first-class advancement tier.

It couldn’t see. Its body was coated in mucus, and it had cried when it saw them.

Damon had been so disgusted that he cut off its head on sight—for trespassing in his property.

Even though, technically, the thing had been there first.

That had been Xander’s argument.

The creature had been hideous—teeth on its chin like a beard, a gaping mouth, and eight mismatched eyes. Its body was twisted and hunched, supported by three crooked legs instead of four. It looked like some god’s failed experiment—or perhaps a prototype for life itself.

Much like the creature now chasing them, only bigger. And far, far uglier.

They weren’t fleeing from its appearance. They were fleeing because it was a Rank Three monster—its chest heaving with vengeance after returning home to find its young slain.

That’s why they were still running… even with nightfall fast approaching.

Damon hugged his sword as he ran, his body feeling like lead. “Valarie! Which way?!”

The lips smiled coldly. “Now you need me? After all the things you said? Take it back.”

Damon sneered, sweat dripping from his brow. “Just kill me… I’m not taking anything back.”

Evangeline dodged another acidic spray, the roar of the beast echoing behind them.

She smacked the back of his head. “Apologize. Your ego is not going to get us killed.”

Damon bit his lip, the wind rushing past his ears. “Fine… I apologize… that you feel that way.”

“Damon—!” the others all yelled in unison.

He raised a hand. “Fine, fine! You were right and I was… less right.”

Valarie sneered. “He doesn’t mean it.”

Sylvia gritted her teeth. “We don’t have time for this. Take it, or we leave you to melt in acid.”

Valarie sighed. “Fine. I’m the teacher, I’ll be the bigger person. Learn from my forgiving nature, boy.”

“Go left. You’ll see a small bridge—it’s enchanted. Once you cross, its body won’t be able to follow. The magic keeps it from breaking.”

They followed her instructions, rushing under a narrow ashen bridge. Once, it had been a street—they could see broken carriages scattered beyond. There were also barricades and traces of military activity.

As they crossed, the monster tried to follow, slamming against the barrier—but the runes flared to life, holding strong. It failed to break through, releasing another acidic blast in frustration.

Damon exhaled, chest heaving. “Let’s go find a place to rest…”