My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 1010: Chapter 1012: Wendy

Wendy could not be killed by anyone who was impure.

That was the condition of her existence.

But Morticai was not anyone.

He was a phoenix.

He was purity given form.

The very rule that had protected her all this time had instead created the perfect condition for her death.

Damon knew this.

That was why he had tried the potions.

“Why… why didn’t you just run,” he muttered, gripping her hand tightly.

Wendy smiled weakly. Blood soaked through her clothes as the feather that had impaled her dissolved into sparks of fading light.

“I… I don’t know…” she whispered.

Damon pressed his palm against her chest, trying to slow the bleeding as if force alone could keep her here.

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

Wendy nodded gently, as if to comfort him.

But they both knew she would not be fine.

Her soul was unraveling.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Morticai had wanted her to suffer before she died.

“Ahh…” she gasped. Her face grew paler. Her skin colder.

“Hey…” she whispered.

Damon’s head was already resting against her chest, his hands slick with blood as he desperately tried to hold back the inevitable.

“Do… you remember when we first met…”

“I’m sorry…” Damon whispered hoarsely.

Wendy shook her head faintly.

“Don’t be… I feel like that was when life truly began for me. Before that… nothing seemed to matter…”

Her eyes struggled to stay open.

“If I’m gone… how long will I stay in your mind? Will you remember the sound of my voice… the way I walked… the length of my antlers… the scent of my body…”

A weak smile touched her lips.

“I don’t have anything… so I won’t be leaving much behind. Just my name.”

Her trembling hand found his.

“Will you remember the name you gave me… and the life I lived? I really liked the name Wendy… it made me feel human. Thank you… for giving me my name.”

Her voice grew faint.

“Damon… will you live to remember me…”

Damon did not raise his head.

He listened to her heartbeat.

Faint.

Fading.

Then—

It stopped.

One final, thunderous beat.

Her last wish was for him to live.

When Damon finally lifted his head, her eyes remained open. Her blood covered his hands.

He shook his head slowly.

“I won’t… I won’t forget… I will… I will…”

The dead were always forgotten.

Damon would not allow that.

Just as Lazarak’s name had endured beyond death, Wendy’s would endure too.

If Morticai hated beings like her, then Damon would create something Morticai could never erase.

With trembling hands, he pulled a small capsule from his shadow storage and filled it with Wendy’s blood.

Then he bit into his own wrist, tearing open a vein. Rage and grief mixed as his blood poured in after hers.

The capsule glowed faintly.

He shoved it back into his shadow without even looking.

Wendy’s body grew still in his arms. His chest felt like it would split apart.

“I will make sure you are not forgotten,” he whispered. “I will remember the sound of your voice, the way you walked, the length of your antlers, the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body. The name I gave you… I will never forget it.”

Her body slowly sank into his shadow storage.

Damon lifted his gaze to the sky where Morticai battled Seras and Kadelas in a storm of fire and light.

“You can’t win against that. The battle is already lost.”

Ashcroft’s voice echoed in his mind.

A statement of fate.

“Remember. If you die now, that which you have nurtured will never get a chance to live. And the promise you made to the young woman will end.”

Damon’s teeth ground against each other.

All his life he had wished for death.

Now, for the first time, without the curse forcing him to breathe…

He wanted to live.

To kill Morticai.

“I’m going to kill that thing,” he said, his voice thick with venom.

Ashcroft’s tone turned sharp, urgent.

“Then you must survive first. You are nowhere near powerful enough to stand against Morticai. Or any of the Outsiders.”

Damon’s eyes did not leave the sky where fire and light tore the heavens apart.

“As you can see, they are buying time for the others to return. Which means the Outsiders will soon retreat. This battle was already lost before it began.”

“In this world, there is no truth greater than absolute power. And there is no sin greater than weakness.”

Ashcroft’s voice echoed through Damon’s mind, calm and heavy, as if he were observing a storm from a distance. He could feel the rage boiling inside Damon. His inner world churned like a sea in a tempest, every thought stained with the desire to kill.

“That truth does not change from world to world. I have lived in two. Those with power decide what is right. There are rules for the powerful and rules for the weak. The only question is which one you intend to be.”

“If you are ruthless enough and powerful enough, you will hold the advantage even over the most benevolent saint.”

Damon’s jaw tightened until it hurt. His teeth ground together as if he were trying to crush the words between them.

“And at what cost?” he asked hoarsely. “I am ruthless enough. But at what cost does that come? Should I sacrifice every noble ideal? Should I butcher women and children? Should I tear families apart?”

His voice trembled, not from fear, but from something deeper.

“Why is evil always called necessary? Why can’t there be a necessary good? What about Wendy? She is here because I did evil. And even now she suffered because of me.”

His gaze drifted over the battlefield.

The temple that had once stood like a piece of art lay in ruin. Broken pillars, shattered stone, and blood soaked into every crack. Priestesses who had smiled gently now stared lifelessly into the sky. A knight from the expedition lay crushed beneath rubble, his armor bent and twisted.