My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 230 230: Clash

The Demon Army wasnʼt composed of just demons. At the top were the Demon Kin, beings who looked no different from humans but possessed superior intelligence and power. Below them were the monstrous demons, grotesque creatures of terrifying might. And at the very bottom were the tamed monsters, beasts enslaved by the Demon Army to do their bidding.

The Red Cap Goblins that the girls had encountered were merely scouts. Even so, Damon studied the three of them carefully. Not a single scratch.

His eyes narrowed. ”How many did you meet? And why are you uninjured?”

Leona raised a hand. ”Just one.”

She glanced at Sylvia, who nodded in confirmation.

”The three of us woke up relatively close to each other,” Sylvia explained. ”Leona has a good nose, so she found us… and also picked up the stench of goblins.”

Evangeline gripped the hilt of her bloodstained rapier. ”We didnʼt expect to find a Red Cap. It was alone, so we ambushed it while it was off guard. It never got a chance to scream.”

Xander clenched his jaw. ”This is bad. Goblins move in groups, and worse… if the Demon Army is nearby, even a fraction of their force is too much.”

Damon nodded, his mind already calculating.

”Which means we need to get as far away as possible. If this was just a scouting force, they probably donʼt know the area well either. But…” his voice turned cold, ”we canʼt just run around like headless chickens. Weʼre blind too. Enemies could be anywhere.”

Sylvia furrowed her brows, recalling a crucial detail.

”According to our Demon Strategy class, a scouting force for the Demon Army usually numbers less than a hundred. They move in small cells, each several kilometers apart from the main force. Each group consists of monsters—low-tier creatures led by a commander, who is usually stronger. These squads also have at least three to five sub-commanders of the same species, as well as…”

Damonʼs fists clenched. ”A Lesser Demon.”

Silence fell over the group. Their faces paled.

A Lesser Demon was no ordinary foe. Unlike mere beasts, it possessed inhuman intelligence and terrifying combat prowess—hardened skin like armor, claws that could rip through steel, and the cunning of a seasoned warrior.

Damon exhaled sharply. ”We need to move. If you left a body behind, itʼs only a matter of time before they track us. As of now, we assume weʼre being hunted.”

The others nodded, gripping their weapons tightly.

Leona suddenly looked around. ”Wait… what about Matlock?”

Damonʼs eyes narrowed. He hadnʼt forgotten the young fairy. In fact, through his Shadow Perception, he could already sense him.

Flying at breakneck speed.

And three Red Cap Goblins were chasing him.

Damon extended a hand toward the forest. ”Heʼs coming from that direction. And heʼs bringing trouble.”

Xander gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on his spear.

Damon turned to the group, his voice firm. ”We have two options. We retreat and pray for his well-being… or we stay and engage the enemy.”

They exchanged glances. No hesitation.

Leona stepped forward, determination burning in her eyes. ”Iʼm not abandoning anyone. We fight.”

The others nodded, weapons drawn.

Damon smirked. ”Good. Matlockʼs wings will be useful for scouting the area and mapping the terrain. Heʼs an asset.”

He unsheathed his dagger, the blade glinting under the dim light.

”Besides…” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.

ʼRed Caps are exactly what I need to level up…ʼ

Matlock wouldnʼt last much longer.

The time it would take him to reach them was too brief—too short for any elaborate ambush. Damon would have loved to string up wires from his Omnidirectional Gear, forcing the goblins to run into a web of death, but there was simply no time. Instead, they did the next best thing.

They took their positions. Weapons ready. Eyes sharp.

Matlockʼs flight was erratic, his movements sloppy from blood loss. His back and wings were stained crimson, and as he twisted mid-air, he unleashed a desperate blast of ice magic, freezing the branches behind him. His shoulder throbbed, an arrow lodged deep in the muscle—the price of recklessly flying over the treetops without cover.

The frozen trees shattered under his spell, but it wasnʼt enough.

”Jejejejej… heheh… kekekekeke!”

The grating laughter of the Red Cap Goblins sent a chill through his bones.

He was going to die.

”Why is this happening…? We shouldnʼt be fighting monsters like this…”

An arrow whizzed past his head, slamming into a tree trunk. Below, three towering Red Cap Goblins emerged from the undergrowth.

Red-skinned. Ugly. Twisted.

They werenʼt like the usual mindless creatures. Their brown eyes gleamed with a twisted, human-like intelligence—calculated, cruel, and dripping with bloodlust.

Their weapons were crude but deadly—a cheap dagger, a rusted sword, and a bow lined with arrows made of wood and jagged obsidian. Even in their patchwork leather armor, they exuded a robust, brutal aura.

Matlockʼs body felt heavier. His vision blurred.

Poison.

His wings faltered, his magic fizzling at his fingertips. And then—

He plummeted.

”No… not like this…!”

His body slammed into the earth, tumbling ungracefully across the dirt. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs refused to obey. His blood soaked the ground, pooling beneath him.

All he could do was roll onto his back, gaze up at the sky, and see his killers approach.

He saw death.

One of the goblins grinned, its jagged teeth bared as it raised its blade.

Matlock bit his lip, a single tear streaming down his cheek.

”What a pathetic way to die… killed by goblins.”

His fingers twitched. His breath came in short, shallow gasps. He closed his eyes, bracing for the pain—

For the dull ache of death.

But it never came.

Instead—

SHLICK!

Steel met flesh.

A wet gurgle. A choking gasp. A body collapsing.

Matlockʼs eyes snapped open—and all he saw was Damon Grey.

Cold. Ruthless. Expressionless.

Damonʼs dagger was buried deep in the goblinʼs throat. Dark, viscous blood spilled onto the earth as the creature twitched and clawed at its severed windpipe, struggling to scream.

But there was no time to scream.

Because what came next was brutal.