My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1 The Academy's Weakest

'There are moments I wish I had never been born, for then I would never have to endure this agony.'

A somber youth stood before a massive announcement board in the school corridor. His jaw was tight and his fists were balled, his gaze drowning in a hopelessness that seemed ready to consume him.

'I failed... yet again. Last place, of course...'

The dark-haired teenager, possessesing deep blue eyes, stared dejectedly at the rankings for the first-year quarter-semester assessment. At the very bottom of the list, his name mocked him.

Damon Grey.

'What was I expecting? Despite all my grueling effort, it changed nothing. I—I still couldn't make the cut.'

Though his eyes shimmered with unshed tears, he forced the emotion back. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he remained rooted in the hallway with trembling hands, completely ignoring the throng of students moving around him.

Lifting his gaze to the peak of the rankings, the name at the top seemed surrounded by a divine radiance, belonging to a realm far beyond his reach.

Evangeline Brightwater.

She was the undisputed top freshman, a noble blessed with unparalleled talent. In Damon’s eyes, she existed in a different dimension—an entity far removed from the academy's most pathetic student.

The corridor was filled with the hum of student gossip, their voices distant yet sharp enough to pull him back to his grim reality.

"It looks like Evangeline Brightwater claimed the top spot once more."

"Is that even a surprise? She possesses a light attribute, after all."

"That’s true. I even heard rumors she might be the first freshman to achieve class awakening."

"Xander Ravencroft is stuck in third place again."

"Yeah, and Sylvia Moonveil is still number two. The top ranks haven't budged since the entrance exams."

Every word felt like a lead weight sinking into Damon’s soul. He felt the urge to surrender. He truly did. However, quitting was a luxury he didn't have.

'I can't fail... I'll do whatever it takes... Luna’s survival is tied to my scholarship. I can't... I can't quit. I won't be expelled.'

Damon couldn't afford to give up. The life of his sister depended entirely on the funds from his academy scholarship. If he were to fail, the one million zeni—the money required to purchase the medicinal potions that kept her breathing—would disappear. He refused to let that happen to Luna.

A knot tightened in his throat; he swallowed hard, battling back his tears as he turned to leave, lost in his own mind. Every stride felt like an uphill battle. His thoughts were consumed by his sister's future. He was her sole protector. In this world, they only had each other.

'If I stop now... she'll die. I don't want that...'

He trudged forward with a lowered head and slumped shoulders, the picture of defeat, until he collided with someone. Without glancing up, he whispered a mechanical apology.

"Sorry."

Before he could move past, a rough hand gripped him and hurled him to the floor.

"You pathetic low-life! Why don't you look where you're going? You ran into Xander, and a simple 'sorry' is all you've got?"

Damon knew that voice instantly—it was Marcus Fayjoy, a blue-haired noble who constantly followed Xander Ravencroft, the third-ranked student of the first year.

Xander represented everything Damon lacked—wealth, influence, and genius. Marcus, his devoted follower, was a foul-mouthed bully who loved flexing his status.

"Are you deaf, you piece of trash? Do I need to beat some manners into a weakling like you?" Marcus hissed.

Damon stayed quiet. This scenario was all too familiar. Getting thrashed by Marcus and his clique was almost a daily habit. Xander, always acting superior, rarely dirtied his own hands, preferring to let Marcus and the others torment those beneath them.

"I'm sorry," Damon muttered, his voice barely masking his simmering bitterness.

He pushed himself up, attempting to walk away. He didn't have the energy to deal with Marcus today. He had endured enough already, yet he knew he couldn't just walk away from his life.

"Grey, you dog! Are you ignoring me? You think you can just leave without my say-so?"

Marcus clamped a hand onto his shoulder, halting his retreat.

Damon groaned internally. It was going to be another one of those miserable days. The pattern never changed—Marcus would instigate, Damon would push back, and a beating would ensue. It always ended the same way.

Turning around, Damon knocked Marcus’s hand off his shoulder.

"Get lost... I don't have the time for your games today."

Marcus’s expression contorted with rage, his cruel grin failing to hide the anger boiling beneath the surface.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you, Grey? It seems someone is headed back to the school infirmary."

Damon shifted into a defensive posture, preparing for the inevitable assault. The script was always the same—defiance followed by pain. Marcus lived to crush the weak, and none were weaker than Damon. Yet, for some reason, Damon's refusal to bow only served to infuriate Marcus further.

"You truly don't understand your place, do you? Fine, let me give you a reminder."

Marcus lunged, but before he could land a blow, Xander’s cold voice sliced through the air.

"That's enough."

Xander spoke with a detached, freezing tone. "I'm here to see my results, not to watch you step on an insect."

Damon clenched his teeth. That casual dismissal—the way Xander viewed him as nothing more than a bug—tore at his insides.

'I want to be... stronger.'

Marcus, ever the loyal dog, nodded and stepped back. He wouldn't dream of crossing Xander.

Damon walked away, his hands squeezed into tight fists as fury and frustration swirled in his gut. He loathed them. He hated them more than anything. But above all, he despised his own impotence. He hated being viewed as a mere bug.

That was precisely why he would never submit to them. Never.

'I am not an insect... I am not an insect... Xander Ravencroft, I swear I'll make you regret looking down on me,' Damon hissed under his breath, his words dripping with rebellion. His hands shook with the rage of an ant attempting to challenge a giant.

Yet, in his heart, he knew the harsh truth—an ant could never bring down a giant. As long as the chasm in their power remained, as long as destiny had decided their ranks, his anger was meaningless. He would remain exactly what they saw—an insect.

The weight of reality gnawed at him. No matter how much he cursed his fate or vowed revenge, his fury alone could not bridge the massive gap between him and those who stood above.

With that burden pressing down on him, Damon departed the academy building, his resentment burning like a slow-acting toxin. The cheerful noise of the students died away as he left the crowded halls, seeking a place to be alone.

His stride broke into a fast walk, head tucked low, as he headed toward the dark woods on the edge of the academy grounds. He refused to let anyone witness the tears forming in his eyes—tears born of helplessness, rage, and pure resentment....