My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Damon sighed, seeing what was happening in the village with his shadow perception.

He smiled… everything was going well, just the way he wanted.

Life was full of downsides, and turning those downsides into something that benefited him was just how he had lived.

And sometimes, in order to gain, you must first take risks and suffer losses.

He had lost his reputation, his newly built goodwill, but now he had gained it back while making them all feel guilty. Now he merely needed to finish the last act.

"Until then… I can take my time…"

He smiled, opening his system panel.

"The best aura farmers show up in the last minute…"

He glanced at his new skill.

Skill: Soul Conduit

[Description:]

From the depths of the soul, fine threads are spun — each a fragment of the weaver's will. These ethereal strands form an unseen network, binding every soul they touch. Once drawn in, escape is impossible — you are part of the conduit now.

[Effect:]

Souls ensnared can be guided, restrained, or possessed, their essence echoing the weaver's command. Freedom comes only by severing every strand.

[Cooldown:]

0 seconds

Damon narrowed his eyes… this was just a soul skill. At best, what it did was increase the range of his soul abilities. Even that would take time, since he had to create these soul threads.

The skill aside, he was more interested in the end of the skill description. Damon had, for all intents and purposes, gotten rid of the source of his unease by devouring the eight-foot-tall lady.

But his unease was still there.

"I am part of the conduit now…"

He looked into the distance far to the north. What rotten luck — that was the direction he was supposed to travel.

The same direction the orcs had sensed danger.

Damon sighed, dismissing his system panel.

It was time now for him to make his entrance.

He took a single step, fading into the shadows. When he appeared again, he was in the town square — surrounded by raging and angry voices.

Except this time, the accusing hands were not pointed at him.

They were pointed at a young woman tied to a stake, surrounded by wood and oil…

Alongside her, the old village head lay bleeding and unconscious.

She watched helplessly, horror filling her eyes as the noise grew.

And a mob chanted.

"Burn her! Burn her!"

The only difference was, unlike him, she could not fight the mob.

'What's up with these people and arson… that's my thing…'

Damon waved his hand, his sword slicing cleanly through Seta's ropes.

Putting on his most noble voice, he stood before the crowd.

"Enough… this is not the way…"

His words and presence instantly made everyone stop.

There were many emotions on their faces — fear, guilt, anger…

"You… my lord, this woman is a witch! She did horrible things and tarnished your noble image!"

"Yeah, why are you stopping us?"

"My lord, I beg you to give justice for my child…"

Damon sighed. This was the desired outcome, but he couldn't allow outsiders to kill his childhood friend.

If anything, Seta was almost something of a childhood sweetheart of his.

'Ahh… so many fond memories…'

He raised his hand.

"My reputation should not be worth more than a person's life…"

His words sounded so humble, his charisma and benevolence almost made them cry.

Damon shifted slightly, allowing the light to hit his face at just the right angle, making him look noble.

"We have lost too much these last few days… too many have died. One death… is too much… no more…"

He glanced at Seta, who was bruised and gagged, her clothes half torn, barely covering her form, one of her breasts hanging out in the open.

"We… are not animals…" He reached into his shadow storage, pulling out a blanket — one he had shared with Evangeline. In Lysithara, the fact that this filthy woman was even close to it almost made him lose his calm.

He draped it over her shoulders. She gazed up at him, trembling, and as he covered her, he smiled.

"Don't worry, Seta… it will be alright…"

His benevolence and words instantly made her break into tears. This was not the Damon she knew, how could he be so forgiving?

The crowd was moved by his kindness.

He turned around, standing tall.

"What happened was horrible, and I see many of you demand justice… but does justice mean that a woman who has lost her way must die?"

There was silence.

"Seta will be punished… but not like this."

Again, silence… until a woman looked up at him.

"My lord… what about my son? What about his justice?"

Damon nodded, pulling out the giant sword of Nicholas from his shadow space.

"Very well then… I will give you justice in this woman's blood…"

Seta began trembling — until Damon continued.

"Or I can compensate the families of the deceased with a million zeni… for each person lost."

Damon clenched his fist.

"If she dies, justice will be served… but your children would want you all to live better lives. Is that not justice? That you live?"

Silence followed.

Damon closed his eyes.

"I shall give you the compensation now. It cannot bring back the dead… but it can make life better."

Everyone was moved by his words and benevolence.

Damon needed them to believe him, so he walked up to the mother of the boy who had been burned alive.

Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, he put on his most political smile.

Reaching into the shadows, he pulled out a pouch of premium zeni coins and placed them in her hands — some falling, rolling across the ground at her feet.

Tears streamed down her face.

Damon slowly closed her palms around the pouch and hugged her gently.

"It is alright… the night has passed… do not fear anymore…"

The woman's mournful cries echoed through the village as she wept into Damon's chest, even though he was covered in pristine material and she was just a dirty commoner.

He looked like a king comforting a peasant.

The people were brought to tears, applauding his benevolence… and hailing him.

Damon smiled.

How easily people were swayed — it was a good thing his deception stat was quite high.

There was no world in which he would let anyone kill his fellow villagers…

Because he wanted to kill them with his own two hands.

All good things to those who wait… he had waited years, he could wait a few more days.