My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Unnoticed Singularity wasn't a fool. If anything, he was dangerously clever.

No one but someone from their world would understand the language he just spoke. It was obscure—only about 18% of people in their original world knew it fluently. But even if you didn't speak it, you'd recognize it instantly if you belonged to that place. The syntax, the tone, the cadence—it wasn't something you could fake.

That was the safety net that had brought his party together. That was how he'd confirmed who was truly an insider among them.

But never, not in his wildest calculations, would he have expected Damon to understand it—let alone reply.

"Hmm. I see," Damon said smoothly, speaking back in the same language.

Unnoticed Singularity blinked—and then smiled. It was rare for the typically reserved figure to show any emotion, let alone that kind of smile.

They both sat in silence beneath the twin moons, the rest of the caravan lost in sleep. Only the adventurers on night watch remained alert, patrolling quietly in the shadows.

Damon didn't want to talk too much. The more he said, the more he'd risk revealing how little he truly knew. The smarter move was to let Unnoticed Singularity—clearly thrilled to have found someone like himself—do the talking.

"How did you get here?" Singularity asked, watching him closely.

Damon gave a half-smile. "Same as you." Then he went quiet.

Singularity nodded slowly. "I see. Reincarnated by that son of a bitch—the Unknown God."

Damon kept his face neutral. Why wasn't he surprised? Of course the Unknown God had more pawns on the board.

Still, one question nagged at him.

"I thought you were supposed to be an Old One," Damon said. "Unless… you're not the Unnoticed Singularity I've heard of."

That drew a pause. Singularity looked at him, surprised. "Ah. Right. I suppose you wouldn't know…"

He hesitated, clearly weighing his next words. Damon recognized the opportunity and seized it.

"I was once killed by the Goddess of Doom," Damon said quietly.

"It was the Unknown God who brought me back. I've seen things I shouldn't have—lost some of my memories. The only way I can get them back… is to keep getting stronger."

Singularity's eyes widened slightly. Then, he smiled again. It was smaller. Sadder.

"We lost our memories too, when we first came here. We knew we didn't belong, but it was like we were rewritten. Our lives were overwritten to fit this world. We were given new families, new identities. New bodies."

Damon nodded as if he understood.

"You embraced a new identity."

"Yes," Singularity said. "But we didn't lose everything. Bits and pieces remained. Languages. Slang. Fragments of trivia. Never full memories, but enough to know we were once someone else."

He looked up at the twin moons above them.

"The sky I remember only had one moon," he whispered.

"When I was born into this world, it was into a noble house—one that defied the Goddess. As you'd expect, the temple wiped us out."

He chuckled bitterly. "Well… almost all of us. My name was Veyne Astair. I died that day. Or so I thought."

His voice dropped, haunted.

"In my final moments, something ancient merged with me. What was broken became whole, but not in the same way. I wasn't Veyne anymore, but I wasn't just Unnoticed Singularity either. We became… more. Greater than the sum of our parts."

He smiled thinly.

"Unnoticed Singularity had once been vast, ancient. He was shattered and destroyed by the Goddess of Doom. I'm all that remains of that amoral Old One. Just… some guy now."

He looked at Damon, chuckling.

"So basically, I'm part Old God and part reincarnated human."

If Damon didn't have the Remorseless skill, he might've lost his stoic expression. That was a lot more than he expected to hear.

'Either he's telling the truth… or he's feeding me exactly what I want to hear.'

Still, it made sense. If Singularity hated the goddess that much, maybe it wasn't a stretch for him to overshare. Damon could relate.

"What about the others in your group?" he asked. "Are they also part Old God?"

Singularity laughed. "No, not at all. I'm the oddest one in a group of oddballs. They're just outsiders—reincarnated like you and me. Same memory problems."

He paused, then grinned.

"Dred says we ended up here because of a… 'heated online debate' with someone. Might've been the Unknown God. Apparently, it got real intense. He did this.."

Damon raised a brow. "He? As in the Unknown God?"

Singularity nodded, eyes drifting back to the silent tents.

"Each of us has a tragic story in this world. We may be outsiders, but we've lived here. We've made bonds. Kin. Families… Well, those of us who still have any."

Damon gave a dry laugh.

"As Aleph loves to remind me—I'm an orphan."

Singularity snorted. "That bastard still has living family. It's the only thing he brags about."

He sobered. "I'd tell you more about the others, but it's not my place. Still… you're like us. That's why I'm telling you this. And why I want to make you an offer."

He raised his hand.

"Join us. We're trying to escape this world… before it ends. Or worse—before he ends it."

Damon shook his head slowly. "Thanks… but no."

He stood.

"I'm not even sure that dual-natured god is friend or foe. We're all under his thumb.."

Singularity's smile faded. "So you believe we're all still in his hands?"

Damon shrugged. "We're always in his hands. The only difference is whether he gave us a choice… or just made it look like we had one."

"You think we asked for this? This hell?" Singularity asked bitterly.

"I don't know," Damon replied. "Just because you choose something doesn't mean it was the choice you wanted. He's the god of choice, right? Manipulating choice is well within his domain."

He gave Singularity one last look.

"I'm getting some rest. We head through the Green Hills tomorrow. That's orc territory, in case you didn't know."

As Damon turned, Singularity called out behind him.

"Doesn't it terrify you? Being under the whims of gods?"

Damon stopped. His voice was quiet, but heavy.

"Not at all. That's what being mortal is, isn't it?"

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes like frozen steel.

"Free will's an illusion. And if I have to… I'll face horrors beyond my comprehension. I may not win. But I'll still resist."

Singularity narrowed his eyes. "Even if you know you'll fail?"

Damon clenched his fist, his voice low and final.

"It's because I know I'll fail."

"If I'm going to lose, I'll lose on my own terms."

Then he walked into the darkness.