My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Damon sat in the darkness with a crease in his brows. The cave glowed with a pale light, the crystals scattered along the walls casting a soft illumination that pushed back the gloom in patches.

Yet where there was light, the shadows pooled thicker, lurking in the corners like silent spectators.

By his side lay a woman of ravishing beauty, long black hair spread across the blanket like a silken veil. Her beauty was sharp enough to be intimidating, her presence regal and cold. This was Abellona.

She rested on the soft blanket Damon had laid out, though he had originally wished to pull an entire bed from his shadow storage if only he had the space.

This was the best he could manage for now. Naturally, he hadn't done it out of kindness.

Damon wasn't the type to provide comfort without compensation—he had charged her for it.

For that reason she allowed him no closeness. Her distrust went beyond the charge; she clearly believed he might harass her. Damon was acutely aware she wasn't asleep.

His eyes lingered on the dagger she kept hidden beneath the pillow he had given her. The moment he made any suspicious movement, she would not hesitate to stab him.

He lifted his wrist and studied the shackle binding him to her. The cold metal carried faint runes, pulsing like a heartbeat.

This was a magical artifact. The chains could disappear, allowing them to be separated, but only up to a distance of three kilometers.

However, the further they were apart, the heavier the cost—both of them would lose too much mana. Such a gamble could be endured in battle, but doing so now would be foolish. They needed every drop of strength. And if either of them died, the shackles would ensure the other followed to the grave.

Damon had appraised the artifact long ago. Its name lingered in his mind, Bond Eternal.

But the shackles weren't the source of his current brooding. In the dark corner of the cave, surrounded by shadows, he was focused on recovering his shadow energy, letting it seep into the staff of carnage that lay across his knees in the form of black flames.

His mind turned restless.

'You are part of the conduit now…'

Those words repeated in his head, burned into him from the description of his most recent skill. His intuition clawed at him, telling him he wouldn't leave this place easily.

There was still some time before he was meant to meet Lilith. He had tried to use the Whisper Coin, but something told him the message hadn't gone through. His gut twisted with cold dread.

At first light, after they had rested, they would leave this place. That much was decided.

Even so, Damon had already sent his shadow ahead to scout. The act had left his shadow reluctant, and he understood why. His shadow wasn't just his—it carried something else. A part of an Ashcroft fragment.

From Abellona, he had learned what few knew in the world. The goddess herself had shattered Ashcroft into countless pieces to kill him. Yet the unknown god had prepared for this.

Those fragments were never meant to stay buried. They would reawaken when Ashcroft's soul resurrected, each striving to return to him.

That was why the empire and temple scoured the death zones, sealing away fragments whenever they could, in hopes of delaying the inevitable resurrection. The fragments themselves were powerful, but no one could wield them. The few who tried paid the price in blood and madness.

And Damon carried one.

His own shadow had fused with Ashcroft's fragment on that fateful night. His shadow had not disappeared—it had become something more.

'My shadow fused with Ashcroft's that night.'

He knew what it meant. Ashcroft would never accept him as an ally. That arrogant demon lord would never allow Damon to hold even a piece of him.

Then Damon remembered a curious detail.

"He didn't have a shadow…"

He chuckled softly.

'If he sees me… he'll definitely try to kill me.'

The unknown god's cruelty was clear. A situation had been crafted where only one could survive.

'If that's the case… then I'm sure there's no way for us to leave without one of us dying…'

Damon narrowed his eyes. Fate itself seemed cruel. Yet the unknown god had no use for fate. What he believed in was choice.

If Abellona's knight had not killed Damon's stag, Damon would not have followed them. If he had not followed, he would not have stumbled upon Ashcroft. Every step was born not from fate but from choice.

It was Damon's choice to accept the system, and with it Ashcroft's shadow. It had been Ashcroft's choice to speak arrogantly to doom herself. And it was the unknown god's choice to set their paths on a collision course.

Damon chuckled again, the sound low in the shadows.

He could see it now, the unknown god's philosophy. This god had stripped fate of its dignity, reducing its inevitable majesty from a divine hand to nothing more than the sum of mortal actions.

By that design, no mortal could blame the heavens, or even gods, for their suffering. Their lives had always been in their own hands. And if so, they could choose what to do with it.

Damon clenched his fist, his voice low and resolute.

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

This had always been Damon's way of life. Perhaps it seemed small and pathetic, but it was him.

He glanced at Abellona, a thin smile touching his lips.

'She thought she dragged me into this conflict… but it seems I was the one who dragged her into a new type of hell.'

If he crossed paths with Ashcroft, there was every chance she would uncover Damon's secrets as well. That was something he could not allow. His connection to the unknown god had to remain hidden, especially from the princess of Valtheron.

His eyes hardened. The cave air grew colder, his murderous intent seeping into every corner, stilling the silence. He looked at her as she lay with eyes closed, her breathing calm and steady. Yet he knew she was awake, listening.

If it came to that…

'I'll kill her.'

He did not care that she was a princess. It was only treason if he got caught.