My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 978: Chapter 980: Lord Ash

Keeping a low profile was really hard when you had a small army in the making.

Damon had a whole flock of balors. Not one, not two, a whole flock. One of them was even in the Fifth Class Advancement. A monster like that was a horrible enemy to face.

Then he had demon trolls and demon redcaps, all created by him. A rare species, bound to him alone.

Damon watched as Gotrog moved through the ranks, his massive form shrinking and expanding at will as he organized the army. The balor flew overhead, flaming whip cracking through the air as he lashed at anyone out of formation, forcing them back into line with brutal efficiency.

The army slowly straightened under his control.

Renata glanced at Damon, clearly impressed.

“This Gotrog guy is really good at this.”

Damon nodded slightly, his eyes still on the formation as it tightened and became more disciplined.

Then they encountered another force.

A small marching army appeared along the path ahead, moving in ordered ranks. They had already spotted Damon’s group, but strangely, the command carriage at their center showed no signs of panic or preparation for immediate battle.

At least, not yet.

Instead, a small cavalry unit broke off from their ranks.

Mounted death cavaliers galloped forward, their armor clanking, their presence heavy with deathly aura.

The one in front raised his hand, holding a flag high.

It bore the symbol of a bull and a griffin.

The banner of the demon lord Zagan.

As if that alone was meant to intimidate.

Gotrog immediately descended, shrinking down as he landed beside Damon. He leaned in slightly, his voice low but filled with restrained excitement.

“My liege, this force is affiliated with the demon lord Zagan.”

Damon didn’t even look at him.

“And so what.”

Gotrog’s lips curled into a vicious grin.

“As expected.”

He straightened, already understanding.

The cavalry reached them and came to a halt just before Damon’s army.

“We are cavaliers in the service of the demon lord Zagan,” the leader announced, his voice firm. “We accompany his offspring, Prince Zanat.”

His gaze swept across Damon’s forces before narrowing slightly.

“You do not bear a flag. Identify yourselves.”

Damon remained silent.

He hadn’t thought about that.

They really didn’t have a flag.

Before he could respond—

Gotrog moved.

The crack of his flaming whip split the air.

It came down instantly, without warning, reducing the cavalry leader and his mount to ash in a single strike.

The remaining cavaliers froze.

Gotrog stepped forward, his presence swelling, his voice crashing down like thunder.

“You dare address my lord while seated on your steeds?”

His aura exploded outward, pressing down on them like a mountain.

“Fall to your knees and grovel.”

The cavaliers were slammed into the ground.

Their bodies shook violently, pinned by sheer force.

“What insolence,” Gotrog continued coldly. “You dare insult my liege.”

He turned slightly, his gaze flicking toward the distant army.

“Men. Go. Bring their leader here to apologize.”

Damon blinked.

That… escalated quickly.

So that was the excuse.

He glanced ahead as his army surged forward.

Weapons were raised. The ground trembled under their charge.

The opposing force barely had time to react.

Panic spread through their ranks as orders were shouted. Defensive barriers flared into existence, shimmering walls of magic forming in desperation.

Spells ignited.

Blasts of energy tore through the air toward Damon’s advancing army.

The balors moved in unison.

They raised their hands, and a massive wall of infernal flames surged upward, swallowing the incoming attacks.

Fire met magic and devoured it.

Another balor stepped forward, chanting, its voice deep and resonant. A wave of power spread across Damon’s front line, strengthening them, hardening them, preparing them for impact.

The clash was inevitable.

And Damon simply watched.

The first to reach them were the redcap goblins, their eyes burning with a demonic light as they let out sharp, savage screeches.

Then came the sound.

A wet splash as blood spilled.

Bodies slammed into each other, steel met flesh, and magic burst violently across the battlefield.

Damon watched in silence.

His forces tore through them.

It wasn’t a struggle. It wasn’t even close.

The redcaps carved through the front lines with brutal efficiency, their small frames moving fast and erratic as they hacked and ripped through armored bodies. Behind them, the trolls crashed in like a wall, smashing through defenses with raw strength.

Above it all, the balors dominated the sky.

Flames rained down in controlled arcs. Whips lashed across formations, burning through soldiers and barriers alike. Jets of fire swallowed entire sections of the enemy army.

They had no answer.

No footing.

No chance.

Soon enough, it was over.

Damon found himself standing before the result.

A young demon knelt in chains, his body trembling, his expression filled with disbelief. Around him, the remnants of his army lay scattered across the ground.

“My… my army…” he muttered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger.

His head slowly lifted.

“Who… who are you…”

A sharp crack echoed.

A whip struck somewhere behind him and another body hit the ground.

Damon didn’t react.

He was still taking it in.

This wasn’t a battle.

It was a slaughter.

The monsters he had upgraded were simply too strong. He hadn’t even used his power on the balors themselves. He had avoided that, knowing it would cost him more.

And yet this alone…

Was overwhelming.

’A true demon army…’

That was the difference.

Every creature under him was a demon.

There was no friction. No disdain. No infighting.

The balors didn’t look down on them the same way they would other monsters. They treated them as lower demons in a hierarchy, not as outsiders.

That unity…

That structure…

It made all the difference.

Damon stepped forward slightly, his gaze settling on the kneeling youth.

“Zanat Zagan,” he said calmly. “Son of the demon lord Zagan.”

The young demon stiffened.

“You have been defeated.”

Damon’s voice remained even.

Killing him would be easy.

But pointless.

He was a demon here now.

And demons understood something better than anyone.

Power could be negotiated.

“You fought well, Zanat,” Damon said, his presence pressing outward, his formless charisma filling the air.

Zanat lifted his head, his expression tightening as he met Damon’s gaze.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Damon shook his head.

“Not at all.”

He extended his hand.

“I bring you glad tidings.”

A pause.

“Join me.”

Zanat stared at his hand, then back at his face. He took a slow breath, forcing himself to steady.

“And if I refuse,” he asked quietly. “Will you kill me?”

Damon’s lips curved slightly.

“I will not.”

Another pause.

“I will let you walk away.”

His voice stayed calm, almost casual.

“Alone. With nothing but the clothes on your back.”

Zanat froze.

Damon’s gaze sharpened just slightly.

“No army. No honor. No glory.”

The words sank in.

A force of two thousand, crushed.

Captured.

If he walked away like that, he wouldn’t just lose.

He would be ruined.

For someone aiming to become a demon lord, that kind of disgrace was worse than death.

Zanat’s jaw tightened.

His thoughts raced.

’He commands balors… fourth class… who even is he…’

His eyes lifted again, studying Damon more carefully now.

If he followed him…

If he tied his name to someone like this…

There was still a path forward.

A chance to rebuild.

A chance to rise.

He exhaled slowly.

“I will join you,” Zanat said at last.

His voice steadied as he spoke.

“I only ask one thing.”

His gaze hardened.

“That you continue to be victorious.”

A brief pause.

“So that I do not bring shame to my father’s name.”

Damon looked at him for a moment.

Then he smiled.

Cold and certain.

“Very well.”

“You can rest assured.”

His eyes glinted faintly.

“I will be victorious.”

Hearing that, Zanat didn’t feel it was too bad.

The demon continent was a place where peace and order were built on strength. This outcome was not the worst path he could have taken.

Still, there was a lingering unease in his chest.

If he lost again… if he ran into other demon heirs after this… it would not end well for him.

’I can only hope the goddess favors me,’ he thought grimly.

Zanat straightened slightly despite his kneeling position, then lowered his head with resolve.

“I, Zanat Zagan, swear my fealty to you. As long as you honor me, I will honor you.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He didn’t like that oath.

It sounded conditional.

For a brief moment, demonic energy stirred in his body, instinctively rejecting the idea. He almost raised his hand to crush him outright—

Then it happened.

A surge.

His seed of depravity trembled violently, then expanded.

Power flooded into his chest, thick and heavy, spreading through his veins like fire. His heart pounded as demonic energy swelled within him.

Damon stiffened.

He almost let out a groan.

More than that—

He felt it.

His rank shifted.

Not a breakthrough, not yet, but it moved, creeping closer to the limit of the Fourth Class Advancement.

Zanat’s oath had strengthened him.

Damon slowly exhaled, forcing his expression back to calm.

Zanat lifted his head slightly, glancing at him again.

“My lord… you remain anonymous.”

A pause.

“May I know your name?”

Damon froze for a split second.

Right.

A name.

He couldn’t use Damon.

He couldn’t use Amon.

He needed something else.

Something fitting.

Something that carried weight.

Something that would spread.

Damon’s gaze darkened slightly as he spoke.

“I am Ash…” he took that part from the name of the Demon lord of domination Ashcroft.

He paused just long enough.

“Lord Ash.”

Zanat immediately bowed his head.

“Lord Ash.”

Behind him, the army followed.

Balors. Trolls. Redcaps. The newly captured forces.

All of them lowered themselves in unison.

Damon stood at the center of it all.

Silently watching.

A name had been given.

And with it—

Something had begun.