My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

The flames flickered slowly, giving off a distant warmth. Its glow illuminated the entire tent, casting light across the massive throne of bones within.

It was a strange sight inside the sealed-off war tent. At the center sat a human with long black hair and a crown upon his head. He wore armor that matched his crown—dark as the shadows surrounding him.

His eyes, exceptionally deep and dark, seemed to devour all the light that touched them.

And yet, that wasn't the strangest part. The real oddity came from the orcs kneeling before him.

It wasn't impossible for orcs to kneel to demons, yes. But to elves or humans? Highly doubtful.

It was easier to kill them than make them obey.

Yet here they were, kneeling.

In front was Iron, the war chief, as well as the cohort of former war chiefs he had defeated to earn the title. To the side were the tribe's shamans—bead-wearing orcs exuding magical energy.

Even they knelt.

Iron had great control over the orcs, so Damon faced no resistance when he came to power. Either that, or the orcs were simply terrified of whatever they had been running from.

The war chiefs occasionally glanced at Damon's side, where a deep pool of darkness watched them with cold, unblinking eyes. Naturally, this was Damon's shadow—the former elf assassin.

Damon waved his hand dismissively and leaned back in a chair many times larger than his frame. It had been made for a massive orc, but now served to amplify his intimidating presence.

"I've contacted an ally of mine," Damon said, voice calm but firm. "Your tribe will head in her direction come dawn."

Iron nodded and sat on the ground. The other orcs followed suit, forming a semi-circle.

"As you wish, Great Chief. But if I may ask… what shall we do with the captured goddess-race knights?"

Damon felt a headache coming on. He couldn't release the knights—not when they could summon reinforcements or, worse, trigger political fallout. Even if they ran and kept quiet, someone would eventually notice.

He had no moral conflict with killing them. Not because he was evil—well, he wasn't righteous either—but because he understood the rules. Those who lived by the sword had chosen their path. Soldiers, adventurers—they lived to kill. And so, they should expect death.

"Take them with you. Unspoiled. However, if they try to escape, you may act at your own discretion."

"Great Chief," one of the orc shamans spoke. She was a female with a frail-looking body, a chain of beads around her neck, and a single golden tooth that glinted in the firelight.

"If I may ask—where do you intend for us to live?"

She spoke in a soft dialect of Orcish, but Damon could still hear the suspicion in her voice.

The direction he had pointed them toward led near a dungeon city—a place crawling with powerful adventurers looking for loot and glory.

If word spread that an orc tribe was coming, it would be a slaughter.

Iron stood abruptly, glaring at her. "Gold Tooth, you question the Chief?"

She bowed her head, unshaken. "I mean no disrespect. However, you are not the orc chief anymore."

Damon sighed. Right. Orcs only obeyed strength.

He raised his hand and conjured a small ball of black flame, then launched it at her.

"Aaargh!" Her screams filled the tent as the Ashborn fire rolled across her flesh and soul.

When the flames finally subsided, she lay twitching on the ground, trembling and charred.

"Mercy… mercy…"

Ding.

[Mastery: Tyranny Lv.1]

Damon's eyes flickered. Had he seriously just unlocked a new mastery from that? Was this the system's way of encouraging him to become a tyrant?

The orcs, now drenched in sweat, lowered their heads. No one else dared speak.

It seemed effective.

Reaching into the shadows, Damon pulled out a vial of high-grade healing potion and tossed it toward Gold Tooth. With trembling hands, she poured it into her mouth, the potion quickly mending her body.

But not the scars on her soul.

Ashborn was a horrific power. Its flames didn't just burn flesh—they carved themselves into the very being of the victim. Survivors carried that agony forever… if they survived at all.

This was the first time Damon had used the flames with the intent to maim, not kill.

The orcs swallowed hard. Everything about this man screamed demonic—from his living shadow, to the silent, pitch-black specter that stood behind him, to the eerie crown upon his head.

Damon let out a bored sigh, trying to act as if he was fully in control, but his performance only made the orcs more terrified.

They silently thanked their ancestors they hadn't been the ones to speak.

He glanced at Gold Tooth. Her legs were weak. Her expression hollow.

Then, in a cold voice, he said, "I have no intention of letting you die. Your tribe will survive."

Leaning back on the massive throne of bones, he continued.

"You will fight battles like you've never fought before. Under my reign—"

The orcs' eyes lit up with anticipation.

"I will turn your useless, scattered warband into an army. You will conquer. You will clash with the greatest foes and emerge victorious."

Cheers began to rise.

"I will make you part of something greater."

"Ahhha! Ahhh!"

The orcs shouted with excitement, their voices echoing beyond the tent.

Damon raised his hand and the noise ceased instantly.

"Until then, you will head north. Take my pager and stay in contact with my ally. Avoid all settlements. Do not attack. Do not pillage. And if any of you forces yourselves on anyone, you will die."

He turned toward the silent figure at his side.

"My shadow ghost will act as your overseer—my eyes and ears."

He met their gazes with a cold stare, and then added, "You will stop at the forest ruins. My ally will move you to a safe location. She speaks with my voice. Her will is my will. Disobey her—and die."

Activating Omen of Dread and Terror Engine, Damon flooded the room with cold, suffocating fear.

The orcs dropped to their knees, fully subdued.

He let out a breath.

That should keep them under control for the next three days.

With that handled, it was time to resume his journey—and hopefully pry some long-buried secrets out of the aloof, elusive Unnoticed Singularity.

Hopefully, this time… the secrets wouldn't get him killed by the Goddess.