My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 684: Chapter 685: A Cycle

[Pure Soul] — this was a skill that guaranteed as long as the one who kills is depraved, thou shall not die.

He appraised her skill.

In this case, Damon, who had obtained Ashcroft’s Seed of Depravity, could not kill her. If he did, the activation condition for her skill would be triggered.

Wendy was not aware of many things in this world outside the evil forest. She was unsure of herself, barely knowing how to speak from sneaking around and mimicking people.

But she was sure of one thing her death would never be at the hands of Damon Grey. His hands could not kill her. She knew that from the moment she became what she was. That was what the voice had told her as her heart festered with resentment.

This was its promise.

He had told her that Damon Grey, the human she was looking for, would be here. That was why she had come. It had guided her to her great enemy.

She didn’t care for his life. She just wanted to be paid back for what he took from her.

Her bone blade gleamed in her hand as her eyes began to regenerate.

Damon’s eyes trembled as he moved the potion in his hand to his mouth.

“I didn’t think I would have to waste one of these on you…” he muttered, his tone low.

“But fine… I can’t kill you, you say? That’s good… let’s see how true that is. How many pieces can I cut you into?”

He downed the potion. As soon as he drank it, he felt the familiar warmth of his soul returning to normal. The pain faded then it was gone. He felt like someone who had been suffering a dire fever only to feel the relief of recovery.

It was like having his nostrils unclogged, finally able to breathe in fresh air again.

Normal was special after going through something horrible. Damon flexed his arms, his joints cracking audibly.

He only had a few minutes of this… but a few minutes were more than enough.

’Maybe this is the battle I need to reach the third class.’

His peak second-class aura exploded, filling the entire tent with overwhelming pressure. The shadows deepened as his living shadow stirred, rising like dark tendrils. The light of the chandeliers dimmed beneath his presence.

“Growl!!!”

Wendy howled as she lunged forward, her bone weapon flashing in her grasp.

Damon grabbed Waton with one hand, pulling the prince behind him as Wendy’s feral aura swept across the tent. Her killing intent carried sadness and primal, mournful rage.

The distance closed in an instant. Her bone blade slashed through the air, but Damon moved to the side, his movements sharp and precise.

“No technique. Holding a sword doesn’t mean you know how to use it.”

He caught her by the antlers with his free hand. With ruthless strength, he swung and threw her out of the tent. Her body crashed through the ruins outside, smashing into the stone street with a thunderous impact.

“This tent is expensive… go outside…beast.”

Damon grabbed Waton by the collar as he walked out. Behind him, the tent slowly sank into the shadows until it vanished completely, returning to his shadow storage.

Waton stared, wide-eyed, his body trembling as Damon carried him effortlessly with one hand.

“So strong…” he whispered in disbelief.

This was the strength of someone at the peak of the second class…. no, partially at the third.

’What a monster…’

Wendy rose again, her fangs sharpening, anger boiling in her glowing eyes. She surged forward with such speed that a sonic boom echoed through the ruins, shattering the ground and walls as she charged.

Damon slowly raised his hand. The familiar agony of burning tenfold spread through his body as he spoke softly, almost a whisper.

“Burn.”

A shadow-like flame erupted from his hand, engulfing Wendy and the surrounding area. The explosion was both hot and cold, distorting the air itself. A soul-wrenching scream echoed as her body and soul were tortured by the flames… the very flames of the dark spirit Rashi Ignath.

[Ashborn]

Still, Damon saw her grit her teeth as her flesh peeled away, only to regenerate under the effect of her class skill, Pure Soul.

He didn’t know exactly what the skill did, but he was sure as hell going to try to kill her. He wanted to see the exact limit of her regeneration.

He raised his hand, increasing the intensity of the flames. But even as her flesh burned to ash, she continued to move. Her screams ceased, her face twisting in agony and defiance. Her hand covered her face, but even that burned away.

Each step she took was torture. But she wasn’t the only one suffering. Damon’s mind was being torn apart by the same agony tenfold the pain of burning alive every time he used Ashborn to attack her.

When she got close enough, her bone blade broke apart, disintegrating into ash. Still, she walked through the blaze. Her clothes were gone, her smoldering, charred flesh barely covering her body.

Then Damon saw her eyes.

There was pain in them, but more than that, there was a fierce, unyielding will. A will that would rather die than submit. It was defiance.

That look made Damon’s flames falter for a moment. In that instant, Wendy lunged forward.

His dealer’s hand appeared in his hands in a blur. He slashed across her stomach and then stabbed her through the chest.

He grabbed her arm, twisted her over, and slammed her onto the ground. His dealer’s hand impaled her chest, pinning her in place before she could recover enough to use her power.

The wound didn’t kill her, but each strike made her weaker, weak enough for him to finally overpower her. That was the flaw in her skill.

The initial arrow to the head had already done its damage. If she had fled and recovered, Damon might not have won so easily.

“In the end, you’re just a beast. If you had recovered properly, you might have given me some trouble.”

“You fought me in a form you weren’t accustomed to… naive.”

He watched her thrash and scream in pain.

Her eyes reminded Damon of himself of the boy who once refused to kneel even when he couldn’t win. He had been the one defying power. Now, he was the one holding it.

Somewhere along the line, the weak one had become the oppressor.

Then her words reached him raw, broken, filled with anguish. Half her face was still regenerating as she spoke.

“Why… why you take from me… why… I only attack you… why you not attack only me… why kill cubs…”

She gritted her teeth, her fangs gleaming in the dim, ash-filled air.

“Why you wicked… why you only take…”

The places had switched now. Damon was the one with the power.

He had taken it all.

“I usurped the power…” he muttered. Usurper that was what Ashcroft had called him. Someone who only takes.

The shadows around him stirred violently. Damon heard it, the familiar call.

The call of the third class.