My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 825: Chapter 826: Sixteen Percent

Damon crossed his arms, watching them from a sand dune, a bow and arrow held awkwardly in both hands.

He wasn’t worried, he just wanted to hold his bow in his hand.

It was strange crossing his arms while gripping a bow and arrow at the same time. He almost looked… anxious.

Lazarak chuckled, sitting casually atop the hot sand dune.

“You’re more worried than I thought.”

Damon sighed, shaking his head.

“What class do you think they’ll awaken to?”

Lazarak knew Damon was deflecting, avoiding showing how much he cared.

He really didn’t want to admit the two children grew on him. Though it had been a very short time.

“A class is heavily dependent on one’s life philosophy and identity,” Lazarak replied calmly. “In the early days, there was no such thing as classes. Only nine mortal ranks. But after my rebellion, things changed.”

Damon narrowed his eyes, turning his head toward Lazarak. He really shouldn’t stop underestimating this toddler-looking god; he was, in fact, the real deal.

“Hm.”

Lazarak spoke casually, as if discussing trivial history.

“Ranks had different names back then. As you can see, that’s no longer the case. Who knows what else my creator changed.”

Damon winced at Lazarak’s nonchalant attitude toward permanently altering the structure of reality itself. or at least being the reason the rules of the world were altered.

’How much of a grasp did he have on the magic system?’

“What did you do?”

Lazarak looked up at the sky, his expression somber.

“I suppose you could say I made my creator notice me. I wonder how much she took in return… certainly more than just attributes.”

Damon sighed. He didn’t like it when old wounds were reopened. So he asked no further questions.

“They’re approaching the sand spitter.”

He knew the monster’s name through his appraisal skill. Even from this distance, he could see clearly.

And sure enough, Lyn and Sithara were closing in on the sand spitter.

They had only observed it briefly before committing to an attack.

“This must be Lyn’s decision,” Lazarak muttered. “He must’ve realized wasting time would do no good. Still… Sithara’s idea was safer.”

Lazarak watched as the children crept closer to the monster, which lay still, pretending to sleep, baiting them.

“It’s intelligent,” Damon said. “These creatures often are. Though I disagree with you. Sithara’s plan only appears safer. It drains resources, and we can’t predict how circumstances might change when they’re already on the clock.”

Damon tightened his grip on the bow, eyes fixed on the distance.

“Acting fast or waiting doesn’t reduce the monster’s strength,” he said quietly. “Only theirs.”

Lazarak sighed at Damon’s words.

“You’re a god,” Damon continued. “You have the privilege of patience. We’re human. We only have moments. Our lives are too short not to take risks.”

Lazarak paused, then glanced at Damon.

“If your lives are so short… then maybe you should try living yours.”

Damon sneered as the sand spitter suddenly lashed out at the children and the battle began.

“This isn’t about me.”

A cloud of sand erupted as the creature swiped with its human-like arms. Lyn felt a scorching wind brush past his face.

Too close.

He stepped back instantly, warping distance with spatial magic.

“Sithara, now!”

He called out, and his sister raised her hand, forming a spatial barrier between him and the monster. Her control was intricate, precise.

Sweat poured down her face.

For a moment, it worked.

Then the sand spitter opened its mouth.

Its fur bristled violently, and a torrent of compressed sand blasted forth like a high-pressure jet.

Too fast.

The attack ripped through the spatial barrier, shattering it like glass.

Sithara watched in horror as the world slowed, death rushing toward her.

It was too strong. Against a first-class monster, running would have been the wisest choice.

But at the last moment, the ground beneath her folded inward as Lyn warped space again.

She reacted instantly, thrusting her hand downward. Sand peeled away from the ground, rising into countless grains as she manipulated space indirectly to control the dust.

The dust cloud enveloped the sand spitter.

The creature stared at her with cold contempt, as if offended by the attempt.

“It’s fur,” Lyn realized. “The fur protects it from sand, not heat.”

Still, not enough.

He could feel it. If they killed this thing, they would finally cross the precipice into first class.

“It’s not enough,” he whispered. “We need wind.”

But not too much.

The space was open. Closing it would amplify the effect but that would trap them as well. Their only insurance was Lazarak’s darkness armor, which could block a single lethal blow.

Sithara continued hurling sand and dust, but the more sand she threw, the harder it became to track the monster’s movements.

Lyn ducked as another sand blast tore through the air, obliterating a dune behind him.

Warm blood spilled down his side.

It hadn’t even touched him directly, barely grazed him, yet the damage was already severe.

He coughed, dust choking his lungs, as he prepared his final spell.

He lifted his head to signal his sister—

But the sand spitter leapt.

It slammed into Sithara midair.

Her darkness armor shattered instantly, undeniably a lethal hit.

She crashed into the sand, coughing blood, her head and mouth stained red.

“Sithara!” Lyn shouted through the dust.

Their plan was broken.

She forced her head up, shaking weakly as she met his gaze.

“You have to finish this,” she said, smiling through blood. “I trust you.”

The sand spitter advanced slowly, confident, knowing the battle was over.

Lyn moved.

He sealed the space, slowing the airflow, freezing the dust in suspended stillness.

Then he teleported to his sister’s side and pulled her into his arms.

He swallowed hard.

“The probability of survival is minimal,” he said quietly. “But if we advance… we can theoretically withstand it. Estimated success rate, sixteen point five percent.”

His mana was dangerously low.

She smiled faintly as he held her close.

“Let’s risk it,” she whispered. “Together.”

She snapped her fingers.

A single spark ignited the suspended dust—

And the desert exploded.