My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 932: Chapter 933: The Fang Taker

[Sword of Nicholas]

[Type: Weapon]

[Description]

Nicholas was quite a small man. However, what he lacked in stature, he made up for in spirit. Where bigger men stood, Nicholas stood longer. Where greater men fell, Nicholas still stood. There was no one who looked down on Nicholas… until the dragon Ashergon flew the skies. His fangs were swords and his claws were spears, and none could stop Ashergon.

The small Nicholas volunteered to face the mighty Ashergon. To make up for his small stature, he forged a massive and bulky sword.

When he came face to face with Ashergon, he became a pile of ash not even worth remembering, leaving behind a massive sword no one would ever recall.

[Effect]

By some measure he must have been resentful. The sword’s aesthetic is not displeasing. It might seem small against a colossal, however it is imbued with the power to slay colossal beings, allowing it to grow bigger, lighter, and sharper.

—

This was the shadow Damon pulled from his shadow storage.

The Sword of Nicholas.

Nicholas had been nothing but a small pebble before Ashergon, reduced to ash in an instant. Yet who else could claim to have faced such a dragon? Damon did not know Nicholas, but the facts did not change. Even in death, his sword remained.

The original blade might not have been the same. This one was clearly forged by the unknown god. Still, it carried a domineering spirit.

It was the spirit of a man who could only look up at mountains and dare to overcome them. A man who never thought himself small.

The overwhelming aura of Rexagon pressed down from the sky. His widened wings seemed to cover the heavens, fog swallowing the sunlight until no shadows remained except Damon’s, writhing unnaturally beneath his feet.

Seras stood her ground. Armor resembling a silver valkyrie sealed around her body, plates locking into place with quiet metallic sighs. In her hands rested a sword like glass, its hollow core slowly filling with blood that pulsed like a heartbeat.

“I am the lord of the carrion skies,” Rexagon roared.

His voice fell like a hammer, shaking the Hanging Paths as his breath blasted through the forest.

“All that ends beneath the earth must bow before me.”

The vines trembled violently. Fruits from the Orchard of Regret snapped free and crashed downward as the dragon’s wrath turned against the Evil Forest itself.

“I am the one who feeds on all that is nurtured. I am the earth. I am Rexagon.”

From those thunderous words Damon understood why dragons were arrogant. Rexagon’s maw glowed red, then shifted into an impossible blue. What poured from his mouth defied reason.

Like a waterfall, it erupted from his maw.

Where it touched the vines, it passed through them with immolating heat that baked the very air, the surface beneath Damon’s boots blistering and cracking.

“Blue lava,” Damon muttered, his grip tightening on Nicholas’ sword.

Toxic fumes followed, spreading through the suffocating stillness. Vines shriveled and died as giant house sized fruits plummeted toward Damon and Seras.

The massive vine beneath them began to melt.

Rexagon’s rage turned toward them, his colossal horn lowering to ram straight through their perch. Seras moved first. She swung her sword, blood spilling from her nose as a red arc tore through the air, carrying the screams and voices of a thousand warriors locked in endless battle.

Rexagon opened his maw. A white barrier shimmered into existence, swallowing the first strike. His claw followed, sweeping the second aside with a heaven shaking screech.

“War… you think you can overcome Rexagon with war?” he roared.

His claw slammed down, ripping the giant vine from one side with Damon and Seras still clinging to it.

Blue lava surged after them.

Damon rolled, boots scraping burning bark as the molten wave chased him. He dove beneath the collapsing vine as it tilted sideways, then kicked against empty air with Airwalk, stepping upward and hauling himself back onto the unstable surface.

“I was born from the screams of war,” Rexagon roared. “I was bathed in blood, baked beneath the fires of the earth. I am Rexagon, and I do not fear that which carries the carrion scent.”

His wings swept once.

An astral storm exploded outward. Damon nearly lost his footing as the gale tore at his flesh, thin lines opening across his skin. Blood streamed freely as he lurched forward and grabbed Seras’ thigh, anchoring himself while the storm threatened to cast him into the abyss.

Seras shifted her stance and shielded him without hesitation, her gaze drifting to the last expedition members disappearing into the Bone Hallows.

She exhaled softly.

They had made it.

Now only escape remained.

The vine beneath them snapped, smaller interwoven branches tearing apart as its weight collapsed. Damon slid along the burning surface, palms scraping against sizzling bark while toxic smoke clawed into his lungs and turned his vision red.

Seras met his eyes and gave a small nod.

Run.

Before the gesture finished Damon vanished, already sprinting across the crumbling path.

Rexagon’s roar shattered the fog.

“Return, vile wretch. Face me.”

Flames followed, thick with the scent of decay.

Seras launched upward with a sonic boom, blade carving toward the scales around Rexagon’s neck. Steel met scale with a deafening clash. She felt the sword bite slightly, felt resistance like striking a mountain, but it was enough to draw fury.

Rexagon snapped his head sideways, sending her tumbling between two massive scales.

Seras was powerful, but not invincible. She could contend with a seventh class opponent, yet killing one was another matter entirely. Rexagon could do just that. Even weakened, he remained beyond her reach.

So she chose the only thing she could offer.

Time.

She stabbed her sword into his scale and climbed, shockwaves bursting with each pull as Rexagon’s body heated and ignited into roaring flames. She leapt onto his head just as the giant skull of the Bone Hallows loomed closer through the smoke.

Damon must have escaped.

She gritted her teeth as a massive claw descended toward her, shadow swallowing her entirely. If it struck, the damage would be catastrophic.

Then something moved through the smoke.

A figure burst forward.

A giant sword swung with reckless force.

Nicholas’ blade glowed.

The strike collided with Rexagon’s maw with a thunderous crack. A massive fang tore free, spinning through the air as Damon seized it mid fall, using its weight and momentum to hurl himself toward the giant skull below.

“Remember me, Rexagon,” Damon shouted, voice raw and defiant. “I am Damon, son of Kadelas Moonveil of the Moon Glades.”

Seras understood the lie instantly. She kicked off Rexagon’s head and dove toward the skull, slipping through the hollow eye socket just as dragonfire engulfed the ancient bone.

Rexagon’s roar trembled with rage.

“Moon Glades… Moon Glades. You will pay, Damon son of Kadelas. And so will your people.”