My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 845: Chapter 846: Shamed

As a Warden, he was an object of fear among the prisoners of the city. He had been granted divine authority by the great god Seraph Null himself. His word was law. His presence alone was punishment.

Never in his life had anyone looked down on him.

His strength rested at the fourth class advancement. He was a calamity wearing human flesh.

So why did this man dare to insult him?

It was both insane and audacious.

At first it had been amusing. A stray insect buzzing too loudly. But now that amusement curdled into something darker. He wanted this man to suffer before he died.

How else would he reclaim his dignity as a higher being, a chosen by the great god Seraph null.

He raised his hand, a cold smile forming as he activated the brand. He could already imagine Damon collapsing to the ground, screaming as divine authority crushed his nerves.

“Kneel before me,” he commanded calmly, his voice even with arrogance as if he was regarding an insect.

Nothing happened.

Damon did not move. He only watched, eyes calm, almost curious, as if observing a child throwing a tantrum.

He tilted his head slightly, there was a mocking edge in his tone.

“Was something supposed to happen?”

The Warden’s eyes narrowed. His question was humiliating.

“You… how dare you remove your brand.”

Damon blinked once, genuinely confused.

“Are you asking why we would want to remove an instrument of control over our lives,” he said casually. “You aren’t very bright, are you?”

Again he was insulted.

The arrogance in his voice made the Warden’s expression tighten. His aura flared outward, crushing the air and making it heavy enough to suffocate.

Damon raised his head, unfazed. This level of aura couldn’t do anything to him, even if his opponent was in the fourth class advancement.

“Your brands are not absolute. There are many ways to overcome them.”

His words echoed through the arena.

This was not just defiance. It was a message. To the people he wanted them to witness this moment.

Options existed. Fear was not the only path.

Those who were clever would search for those options. Those who were not would still spread the idea. Either way, the seed was planted.

The rumors would only advance Damon’s plans.

His cult would grow.

Of course, this would alert the Wardens, but that no longer mattered. The Archivist would have learned of it within hours regardless.

“Die, ingrate.”

The Warden snapped his parasol shut.

The air exploded.

Blades of compressed wind tore outward in every direction, sweeping across the arena in a chaotic storm. Flesh was shredded. Bodies were flung apart. Blood painted the stands as screams were swallowed by the roaring gale.

Damon’s eyes sharpened.

He grabbed Evangeline with one arm, pulling her close as she planted her sword into the ground. Radiant light surged from her armor as she braced herself, blocking the slicing wind.

Her gaze was cold and focused.

That was the power of a fourth class advancement. Casual destruction. Wind alone, yet shaped into a slaughter.

“I see,” Damon muttered, voice nearly drowned by the storm. “No wonder they claim divine authority.”

This Warden was strong. Near the peak of the fourth class. Damon could kill him, but it would take time. Time he did not have. More Wardens would arrive. Perhaps even Seraph Null himself.

The dust formed a violent maelstrom, but Damon could still see the Warden standing calmly at its center, parasol in hand, staring at them with disdain.

Damon sneered.

“That only works on weaklings.”

He slid his hand to Evangeline’s waist and shouted into her ear.

“Eva, let go. We have to get out of here.”

She did not argue. She already understood.

She yanked her sword from the earth, and together they let the wind seize them, hurling their bodies upward as the storm carried them hundreds of meters into the air.

The Warden glared up at them.

“Do you really think you can escape?”

He shifted his parasol slightly.

The wind changed.

Blades began rotating in opposite directions, the air grinding in on itself. It felt like being trapped inside a colossal butcher’s mill.

Damon’s danger sense screamed. His hair stood on end as he pulled Evangeline closer, teeth clenched.

’No way.’

This was a domain.

Not a completed one, but the beginning of it. An idea given form.

He knew the feeling. He had experienced the Mirror Seraph’s domain before.

This one was crude, unfinished, but still terrifying.

Damon met the Warden’s gaze through the swirling brown wind.

His voice was cold.

“Don’t you know. Fire goes great with wind.”

He raised his staff.

The Staff of Carnage ignited.

A massive explosion of black flames erupted at the heart of the tornado. Shockwaves tore outward, destabilizing the storm as fire consumed the wind itself. The tornado fractured, scattering burning bodies across rooftops, streets, shops, and alleys.

Barriers shattered. Wards collapsed.

The colosseum cracked open.

The storm transformed into a fire tornado, black flames screaming as they devoured everything inside. The wind howled, drowning out the cries of the dying.

The Warden halted the storm.

Charred remains of chained knights littered the ground.

He had killed his own men.

Not by choice, but because that wretch had twisted his attack against him.

His fists trembled.

Rage. Humiliation.

He had been insulted. Overpowered. Escaped.

By someone a whole rank below him.

His hands shook as he stared at the destruction. Even his own body bore burns. Even he had been touched.

“Find them,” he snarled. “Find them now. I want them dead.”

Orders rang out as the once pristine Warden stood scorched and disgraced within the trap he had built.

He glanced upward, biting his lip.

The barrier was gone.

Broken by his own power and that man’s flames.

“Aaaah.”

With a scream of fury, he launched himself into the sky, racing toward the direction they had fallen.

He would find them.

He would kill them.