My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

They both looked worn and haggard as they teleported out of the way of a giant wing, the air around them violently eviscerated.

Thud.

They crashed into a heap of discarded clothing somewhere within the city.

Sylvia groaned as pain shot through her body, but she clenched her jaw and swallowed the sound before it could escape. She refused to give Lilith even the slightest opportunity to sense weakness.

Lilith sat up slowly, pressing the back of her hand against her nose and wiping away the blood that had begun to trail down her face. Her movements were calm despite the impact. A few bruises marred her skin, but none of them managed to diminish her beauty.

"Figures…" she muttered. "We wouldn't be able to steal the elixir."

Of course things would not go their way. It could never be that easy.

They had made it into the Black Tower. They had even reached the floor where the elixir was kept. They simply had not expected Seraph Null to show up personally.

Sylvia ground her teeth together, fists tightening at her sides.

"Let's try again. This time—"

"No," Lilith interrupted, cutting her off mid sentence. "Let's go back. Everyone must have already gathered by now."

Sylvia turned her head and glared toward the distant silhouette of the Black Tower before letting out a breath and nodding reluctantly. Seraph Null would be alert now, and so would his Chained Knights.

"So now what," she asked, her voice measured as she studied Lilith's expression. "Are we joining back up with Damon?"

Lilith nodded slowly, strands of her red hair lifting and swaying in the wind.

"We are. By now I'm pretty sure he's already written that depressing suicide note."

Sylvia pushed herself to her feet, brushing her white hair back over her shoulder.

"Are we going to try taking him out of it?"

"It's pointless. If it didn't work then, it won't work now," Lilith replied as she turned and began walking away.

Sylvia hesitated for a moment, glancing at the book floating quietly in front of her, then followed.

They were lucky. With their combined skills they were powerful, but against an entity in the seventh class all they could do was flee.

Sylvia was worried about Damon, but beneath that worry was a faint, unsettling eagerness to see him again.

Without realizing it, she brushed her hair again, fingers smoothing it as if it would somehow make a difference.

Her gaze drifted back to the book.

"How much of a butterfly effect have we created this time," she asked quietly.

She felt a small portion of her elven lifespan get shaved away, a familiar sensation that made her chest tighten, and then the answer appeared.

"Hmm. You're really being generous these days," she muttered.

...

His depressing mood aside, Abellona's words had struck a chord.

Damon felt slightly lighter, though the weight in his chest never truly left. Still, he realized he could not die and leave the problem for someone else. Not yet, at least.

Her words aside, things had been improving. Faces he recognized arrived day by day, and those who knew others quietly spread the word.

Naturally, Xander lived in the most elite district of the city, so not everyone could gather there. Only the most privileged could reach that area. Damon had yet to appear there himself, though Yuka von Penrose had, as usual, been following Emilia Highgon closely.

Using Yuka as an envoy, they arranged a meeting point in a more accessible section of the city.

They used cues and fragments of history that only those familiar with the Third Epoch would understand.

The War of the Five Sages, easily recognized by academy students, adventurers, and scholars alike. The Peasant Revolution that changed the global order. Even the more recent Demon Wars.

To the Chained Knights who intercepted the messages, it made little sense. To those in the know, it was unmistakable.

With Damon's and Abellona's combined networks, gathering everyone was easy. Naturally, Abellona was the one issuing the call, her influence far exceeding Damon's.

On the second day, Renata arrived.

As expected, she wasted no time. With practiced efficiency, she reorganized the chaotic mass into structured divisions with clear roles.

Those with healing and utility skills were assigned as medics. Mage based fighters formed a battalion. Tanks were positioned for defense. Assassin classes were designated for espionage. Those with administrative abilities were pulled aside and given logistical responsibilities.

Everyone became a piece of the plan.

That said, there was still something they were not using, and so Renata came to Damon about it.

She stood behind his chair, hands folded loosely behind her back.

The night was unnaturally quiet, as if the city itself sensed the chaos waiting just beyond the horizon.

"This place was so peaceful before we came," Damon muttered, his gaze fixed on the city lights.

Renata did not agree.

"It was and still is a hotbed of apartheid and dehumanization rooted in racist and tribalist beliefs. I wouldn't call that peaceful."

Damon exhaled slowly.

"What would you call peaceful, Renata. To me, peace is a status quo. The same mundane routines carried out by the same faces every day, the same hustle and bustle. The people of this world see that as peace, even if they exploit people from ours. That is their status quo."

She sighed, the sound heavy.

"Then they will reap what they sow."

Damon felt the cold rage beneath her words, the faint killing intent she failed to fully hide. She must have suffered deeply.

"And what will they reap," Damon asked quietly. "A city drowning in war. Thousands dying. It hardly matters. War is always like this."

He let out a soft chuckle.

"I find it ironic. Children of the world of Aetherus. We truly live up to our name as children of war. We've made war so mundane that it's routine. I have a feeling that once we leave this place, we'll find ourselves dragged into another demon war."

Renata lifted her gaze slightly, studying him.

"Is that because of Prince Waton's death. That alone can hardly be cause for war. If anything, the goddess races hold more advantage during the war games."

Damon shook his head.

"That's not the reason. I just feel it. From the moment we return, everything we know will begin rushing toward its inevitable climax."

She watched him in silence for a moment, noting the weight in his expression.

"Is that why you've been so weary?"

Damon crossed his arms.

"I think the word you're looking for is depressed."

"It would be wrong to say that to my lord," Renata replied, lowering her head slightly.

"But I'm not your lord, am I. You already knew that," Damon said. "What I don't understand is why. Are you waiting so you can kill me when the chance presents itself."

Renata did not react. Of course she knew he was not Ashcroft. She had figured that out long ago. Though they were similar, the differences were clear to her.

"No. Why would I betray you," she answered calmly, as if she had been expecting the question.

Damon leaned back in his chair.

"You're missing your chance, you know. Or are you worried I would expose you as a demon in our midst."

Renata's expression did not change.

"If you did that, you would be in far more danger than I would. I could easily level the same accusation against you. I could make it worse by claiming you killed the original Damon Grey and replaced him. Lord Ashcroft."

Damon chuckled.

Damn this woman. She really had him figured out.

"Then why haven't you," he asked. "I'm not Ashcroft. If anything, I'm a usurper who stole his power."

Renata paused. She had not expected him to reveal that so openly, but it seemed he had already figured her out as well.

"As far as I know, Ashcroft is a story. The demon lord of domination is an icon worshipped by demons, but he is an evil I do not truly know. You, however, are an evil I recognize. I've known you longer. You are fathomable to me."

She smiled, her tone softening.

"Damon Grey. A human turning into a demon. I know where you came from and how you came to be. I understand you, at least to a degree. I learn something new every day. You like tamberry. You love your sister. You care deeply for your friends and hate showing it. Your closest friend is Leona. Your love interest is Lilith Astranova, though you struggle to understand those feelings beyond base desire."

She paused, taking a slow breath.

"You are also related to Grand Duke Brightwater, which makes you the last person anyone would suspect of being a demon."

Damon was impressed. She knew far more than he had expected.

"So now what," he asked.

Renata inhaled deeply.

"Nothing. I already made my choice when I chose you. It doesn't matter whether you're Ashcroft or not. My choice was the follower, the dominator. The prophecy never said it had to be Ashcroft. That was merely interpretation."

She leaned closer, her lips near his ear.

"Besides, you're sort of a cutie. I don't mind."

Damon turned to face her, expression flat.

"You know I can kill you where you stand and accuse you of being a demon."

"Sure you can," she replied lightly. "But as you can see, I'm still alive. And you wouldn't do that to such a beautiful senior."

Damon chuckled.

"You've been holding back on teasing this whole time, haven't you."

She flashed the familiar seductive smile.

"It's my guilty pleasure."

He looked at her.

"So what's your story, then. You know mine. I'm curious how a demon managed to live under the noses of the goddess races and even become part of an old noble house."

She shrugged, leaning back before casually sitting on his things.

"It's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it."