My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

It was quite a wonder how anyone in their right mind would go out of their way to eat that.

Terra watched with a deep grimace etched across her face.

Her older sister, Emilia, didn’t seem to react at all.

As for the princess...

Abellona calmly popped another sour grape into her mouth.

This was the tenth one.

They were called sour grapes, but Terra was convinced they were a crime against the human tongue. They were the sort of fruit that could twist a person’s face into the most ridiculous expression after a single bite.

Yet Abellona simply chewed.

Her expression didn’t change in the slightest.

Terra had no idea whether to be impressed or horrified.

Unable to keep watching, she cleared her throat and shifted the conversation.

”Damon Grey is still in the Anarchy Mountains, isn’t he? He promised to send a report, yet we’ve heard nothing.”

Abellona paused for a brief moment before swallowing the grape.

She glanced at Emilia, who sat absentmindedly staring out the carriage window.

”He did.”

”Perhaps he simply hasn’t found anything worth reporting yet.”

She casually placed another sour grape into her mouth.

Once again...

Nothing.

Not even the slightest twitch crossed her face.

Terra, on the other hand, felt her mouth fill with saliva just imagining how unbearably sour it must taste.

”The Empire is entering the final stage of its preparations to attack Lysithara.”

Emilia finally spoke without taking her eyes off the passing scenery.

”The war to end all wars.”

”That’s what people are calling it.”

Her husband was overseeing the vanguard preparations under House Ravenscroft.

Yet these days...

It hardly felt as though they were husband and wife.

Her thoughts drifted back to the early years of their marriage.

Back when their son had still been with them.

Back when they had been a family.

Until...

Her husband betrayed her.

Strangely enough, Emilia wouldn’t have minded if Xander had taken mistresses or sought the company of other women.

That wasn’t the sort of man he was.

Xander Ravenscroft was rigid.

An Oath Keeper.

He would never break his word.

Not for anyone.

Worse...

He expected everyone else to live by those same impossible standards.

He was an admirable man.

An honorable man.

But he had been a terrible father.

After all...

What kind of father sold his own son through a dubious Contract?

She wasn’t even angry anymore.

Only...

Disappointed.

She wished he would loosen those ironclad ideals.

Just a little.

Emilia had never understood men who lived entirely by stubborn convictions.

In that regard...

Xander wasn’t much different from Damon Grey.

Damon was that same sort of man.

Only his chains weren’t forged by honor or oaths.

They were forged by ideals.

By an overwhelming arrogance.

A man who refused to bow his head.

Who refused to forgive.

Who never forgot.

Every hatred.

Every grudge.

Every debt.

All repaid in blood.

Men like that became great because the world did not move through kindness.

It moved through strength.

Those who possessed the resolve to carry out their ideals would always surpass those who abandoned them.

The world did not reward righteousness.

Nor kindness.

Anyone who believed otherwise was a fool.

It rewarded strength.

Cunning.

Power.

Why else had she watched her child be taken before her eyes while she could do nothing?

Because she had been weaker.

Why else had Xander never bothered telling her about his agreement?

Because she hadn’t mattered enough to know.

Because she lacked the power to decide her own son’s fate.

It’s my penance...

For trying to reclaim my birthright using the Ravenscroft name.

The thought crossed her mind.

Then she realized how contradictory it sounded.

A faint smile tugged at her lips.

No.

There was no such thing as penance.

Only weakness.

Seeing that smile, Terra folded her arms.

”You’re finally in a good mood, Sister?”

Emilia slowly lifted her head from the window before giving a small shake.

”Not yet.”

She looked ahead, her eyes turning cold.

”But I will be...”

”...when I find the one who took my child.”

”...and make him pay.”

Abellona silently tossed another sour grape into her mouth.

Her expression remained as calm as ever.

”I couldn’t agree more.”

”We’re almost there.”

It wasn’t long before the carriage rolled to a stop before a large stone building several hundred kilometers from the capital.

This was one of the Free Cities.

Despite the name, a Free City was hardly a true city.

It began as nothing more than an adventurer encampment.

Given enough time...

It attracted merchants.

Mercenaries.

Outlaws.

Drifters.

Eventually, settlements grew around it until it resembled a city.

The Empire never bothered eliminating them.

Doing so would waste soldiers and resources.

Instead...

They simply regulated them.

Even the nobility tolerated a certain amount of crime.

After all...

Crime itself had become an industry.

Abellona had deliberately left her knights behind.

Even the carriage bore no royal crest.

Everything about this trip had been kept secret.

The Unknown Order had spies everywhere.

Any unnecessary attention would only complicate matters.

Somehow...

Emilia’s investigation always circled back to Amon.

Whatever secret Godric had hidden...

It was undoubtedly connected.

After years of digging through forgotten records, buried reports, and old testimonies...

They had finally found a promising lead.

This building...

Might contain the answers.

They had come searching for a man named Linga Felt.

A divination had revealed that he had once passed through this place.

Unfortunately...

The Hightowers could tell them little more.

Neither Terra nor Emilia mentioned the real reason.

Their ancestral spirits had been almost completely destroyed.

Without them, the Hightowers’ divination abilities had weakened dramatically.

Their only other option would’ve been to seek out Sylvia Moonveil.

But reaching Sylvia was far from easy.

So...

They had no choice but to follow this lead.

Emilia pushed open the heavy wooden door.

A wave of stale ale, sweat, and cheap alcohol rushed out to meet them.

Laughter echoed through the crowded tavern.

Tankards slammed against wooden tables.

Arguments broke out in one corner while drunken songs filled another.

The entire place was loud.

Chaotic.

Filthy.

Emilia’s nose wrinkled in disgust