My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

This was so unnecessary. He didn't even have to be here. He was here because of a moment of pettiness.

And somehow that had led him into a battle with the demon lord of domination.

There was a strange beauty to it. He was truly living up to his class—Death Seeker. It was like he was allergic to living peacefully.

Damon held a staff in one hand and one of the silver blades in the other. On his shoulders perched his two eccentric followers, the raven and the squirrel.

He kept his breathing steady, making no noise whatsoever. Damon was certain this would end in disaster, but if they succeeded now, they would cripple Ashcroft's main force.

The only problem was time. They had to kill both the Balrog and Gaston in under seven minutes, all while making sure they didn't attract too much attention.

Damon touched his chest, feeling his heart pounding.

Abellona had said she had a means of retreat if the worst came to pass and Ashcroft himself appeared.

Damon bit his lip. Ashcroft was weakening with each moment.

"I wonder how weak he's gotten..."

He was anxious—not because he feared Ashcroft, but because he feared the demon lord would become too weak. Damon wanted a fair fight, one on level ground: him versus Ashcroft.

The dominator demon lord against the ravenous living shadow.

One would rule, and one would perish.

Abellona's soft breathing grew heavier as the glow of flames flickered below them. From their perch in the trees, they could see it clearly.

A massive creature, humanoid in form, wreathed in flames. Bent horns twisted from its head. A long flaming whip dangled from its hand, and broken, malformed wings like those of a giant burning bat stretched uselessly at its back.

It limped across the forest floor, half of its face destroyed. It had lost the ability to fly and was clearly still recovering from its deep wounds.

Behind it walked a man. He stood stalwart with a sword at his waist, wearing plain armor without an emblem. But anyone with a discerning eye could see—he was a knight of Valtheron.

This was Gaston. Once a loyal knight to Abellona, now reduced to Ashcroft's thrall. His mind had been broken, his will bent until all that remained was service to the demon lord of domination.

"Balrog, you make too much noise. The targets will hear you from a mile away."

The Balrog turned its massive head, its ruined features glowing faintly with lingering rage. It was Gaston who had dealt the wounds that stripped it of its dignity.

Lord Ashcroft had been displeased with the Balrog's performance. Gaston was now his new favorite.

The beast hissed with quiet fury, its resentment burning deeper than its flames. It prayed silently for the abyss to swallow this wretch whole.

But it said nothing.

Gaston frowned.

"Lord Ashcroft would be displeased with your attitude toward me. While I am to blame for your injuries, I deeply regret what I had done before I was enlightened."

The word made Abellona clench her fist where she hid beside Damon in the tree.

Enlightened? That was what they called it? Mental enslavement by a demon lord, dressed up in a word meant to sound holy.

What a vicious power—to strip a being of free will, to warp them into nothing more than an extension of another's will. Their ideals, their loves, their enemies, their very lives ceased to matter.

All that remained was Ashcroft.

Damon couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to wield that kind of power. The things he could do with it.

All it required was a simple act and the will to dominate.

'The unknown god made this guy too powerful.'

Abellona took a deep breath. She had seen enough. Ashcroft would not insult Gaston like this any longer. She would end it, here and now.

She poured magic into the chains tying her to Damon. The shackles expanded, then vanished, leaving only the cuffs around their wrists but no pyshical connection between them.

Without another word, her spear plummeted from the tree. She leapt after it, kicking it downward, straight at Gaston.

Damon sighed. Taking a step, he melted into the shadows now that Abellona was no longer weighing him down.

He reappeared in front of the Balrog. Its eyes glowed, horns blazing, whip tightening in its grip.

Damon raised the staff in his hand. The Staff of Carnage. He had brought it as a last resort. He didn't want to use it unless he had to.

The Balrog's attention shifted briefly to Abellona as she charged Gaston. Her aura burned like a star, and even in its fury the beast felt a flicker of unease.

Gaston's rank was higher, but that woman was terrifying.

And now this insect stood in its path. A second-class warrior with a silver sword gleaming, and a floating fragment of steel dripping with the memory of too much blood.

A broken sword.

It understood their plan. They wanted to hold it back while she killed Gaston. Too bad—it could not allow that.

Even if it hated Gaston, he was still a servant of Lord Ashcroft.

And it would not fail its master again. It would die before that happened.

The whip ignited, curling in fire.

Damon glanced at the raven and the squirrel on his shoulders.

"Fly, fools."

He didn't need to ask twice. They fled instantly.

Damon's eye twitched. Couldn't they have at least hesitated? Pretended to care for his life, even for a second? Why did they leave so quickly?

Of course they knew he was about to fight for his life. That was exactly why they ran.

He sighed. Then his gaze shifted to Abellona. She was about to face Gaston, a rank higher than her.

Damon gripped his staff tighter. He couldn't kill a Balrog, even injured. It was a rank four monster.

'I just need to make sure it doesn't interfere until Abellona kills Gaston and backs me up. Though I can make its injuries worse.'

The huge Balrog raised its flaming whip high, fire crackling in the night.

Damon lifted both sword and staff, his voice echoing as he roared:

"You shall not pass!"

The Balrog would not get past Damon.

That wasn't a declaration.

It was a fact.