My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 891: Chapter 892: Deathless Strikes Back

Cassian frowned. They had just witnessed everyone sent into the arena being consumed and wiped out by a horrible creature, its dark form covering everything, its aura pressing against the very limits of the world.

Before that, they had actually witnessed the presence of god.

They had only a few minutes to react to all of this before they were returned, spat out in the very place they had been consumed. The giant nightmare dissolved into motes of light.

His hands shook slightly as he scanned the crowd of participants, now no more than half the number the war games had started with.

He let out a small sigh of relief when he spotted his daughter and nephew still alive.

More importantly, he could feel it.

Their auras.

Every single one of them had reached it.

“The Fourth Class advancement,” someone muttered, voicing what he was thinking.

Emperor Kronos stepped forward, his face carefully hiding the anguish of losing his son.

“Abellona.”

He touched his daughter’s head, though that was all the affection he could show in public. Even this was too much. The emperor was not supposed to lose his composure, but he was a father who had just witnessed one child die and the other disappear. Should he not be glad that the goddess returned one to him, even if he had lost the other?

She lowered her head slightly.

Evangeline rushed into her father’s arms when she saw him. She was not the only one. Many young masters and noble ladies who had been acting tough and fighting wars, at least those closer to Damon’s age, could not have been happier to see their families again.

To see the world where they were safe.

Damon missed that feeling. Being able to sense mana again, the sensation of his birth world welcoming him whole, without rejection, without treating him like an invasive disease that needed to be cleansed.

He raised his head and spotted a white haired girl running down a flight of stairs, followed by Brightwater knights trying desperately to protect her. Ahead of her, a pink haired girl was running toward him as well.

Damon lowered his head, biting his lip. When he raised it again, both of them crashed into his arms.

He held them without saying a word. They seemed to be speaking, but Damon was in a daze. He was not sure if it was the curse or his own emotions, but seeing his sister so happy that he was alive made him realize just how selfish dying would have been.

Not that he had a choice in living either. He was forced to do so by the curse.

’Well, at least Deathless has not thrown any life threatening trials my way yet.’

“Damon Grey, hand over the elixir of pseudo immortality. A lowly commoner should not be holding such a legendary treasure.”

Someone spoke coldly as a powerful aura slammed into Damon. He waved his hand dismissively, then glanced at Luna and Iris.

“Go. Now.”

He ordered it flatly. The Brightwater knights did not wait for the two girls to respond and immediately pulled them away.

Damon turned around to find a nobleman staring at him. His daughter was among the survivors.

Damon looked him up and down.

“Do I know you?”

The nobleman, who appeared to be at least a count, scoffed.

“You are quite arrogant, commoner. Your vanity will be the end of you.”

Damon frowned slightly.

“No, I was not being vain this time. I genuinely do not know who you are. Aren’t you like a background character or something? I mean, if you were important, I would know about you.”

The man’s face shifted several shades at the roundabout insult.

He was not the only one. Damon could hear different young nobles spreading information about the elixir. Not many of them even knew what it did, so the rumors grew more exaggerated by the second.

It went from being a cure all, to an immortality formula, to containing the secrets of godhood itself.

The alchemists wanted it. The mages wanted it. The nobles wanted it. Everyone wanted it. More importantly, the temple had also set its eyes on him.

Father Dantalion, the witch hunter, watched with keen interest. His gaze briefly passed over Paimon, the demon lord present, but showed no change in expression.

“Enough, boy. We alchemists demand you hand over the elixir so the institute can study it.”

“What nonsense,” a mage from the magic continent shouted.

“This should clearly be given to the Magic Academy. We on the magic continent have the best tools and can properly study such an elixir.”

Damon sighed. This was getting annoying. None of them had even seen the elixir, yet they were already acting this way.

They argued as if he was not even there. Then again, it might as well have been true. He was not at their level yet.

Lilith bit her lip, ready to ask her grandmother for help. This was partly her fault. She might have revealed the elixir, and even if she had not, they would have found out eventually.

Damon shook his head.

He had celebrated too early. It seemed Deathless had already begun its attempts to kill him.

His danger sense screamed as he watched powerful people lay greedy claims to something that was rightfully his.

Seras Blade observed the scene with calm interest.

“Well, it looks like he really survived. Although at this rate, not for long. There is really only one option for him here.”

Damon sneered, his face turning cold.

“Even if I gave it to you, none of you would dare take it.”

He reached into his shadow storage and pulled out the elixir. Why? Because he was Damon Grey. Just because he was cursed to survive did not mean he had to be humble. If he had been cursed with humility instead, it would have been far more debilitating.

The golden liquid shimmered.

“This is the elixir.”

Then he put it back into his shadow storage.

He drew a line on the ground with a slice of magic.

“I dare any of you to cross that line and see what I will do.”

There was a pause. They stared at the young man who had only just reached the Fourth Class. What exactly was he planning to do?

An old man in the Sixth Class stepped forward.

The moment he crossed the line, Damon vanished.

When he reappeared, he was standing behind the grand duke, one hand gripping the man’s robes.

“Save me grandpa,” he screamed shamelessly.

The grand duke froze for a split second, then his expression hardened as instinct took over.

His voice dropped, cold as winter.

“Who dares to touch my grandson.”

The entire arena fell silent.

His grandson?