My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1000 - 1002: Not Loving At All

The revelation hit Damon with greater force than he anticipated.

Destined to become a demon, the Goddess of Doom had instead seized Lolth’s divine spark amid her burning hatred for the Unknown God, compelling her own ascension.

She ascended to goddesshood.

Yet she couldn't alter her fundamental nature.

Doom stayed doom.

Damon's fingers twitched subtly at his side.

He too harbored a divine spark alongside a seed of depravity. These opposing powers twisted within him, sharing the same vessel.

He suspected neither matched the might those two entities once wielded.

Tamia’s voice drifted serenely through the temple's atmosphere.

"Resentment drives anyone down the demonic path. One cherished a god who spurned her completely. The other despised him so fiercely she sought to defy her destiny altogether. Ultimately, neither achieved their desires."

She shook her head with slow, near-pitying motion.

"Salvation turned demonic. Doom claimed the throne of the abyss's goddess. Such irony cuts deep."

Damon shifted his gaze toward her.

"Doesn't this talk worry you about divine retribution... Paimon?"

Tamia offered a faint smile.

"A priestess's right is to voice any thought freely, then brand others blasphemers for echoing it."

With leisurely elegance, she raised a hand to sweep her long hair back over her shoulder.

"This sacred space shields us. Protection holds here."

Her eyes lifted to lock with his.

"How did you uncover my identity?"

Damon held back his response for a moment.

He merely regarded her steadily.

Upon his arrival, she had probed him with words of love. Typical demons would scoff at such notions.

Next came her query on his longing for the priestesses—a snare testing lust and control. Any potent demon would betray interest.

The priestesses acted casual around her, yet their gazes revealed the truth: fleeting looks, vigilant caution, unspoken reverence.

Earlier in his tower, she had dared speak of the Unknown God both favoring and cursing him. No mere priestess would venture such words.

All clues had fallen into place.

Paimon drew nearer.

Her aura didn't intensify, yet it deepened profoundly, akin to edging beside a silent chasm.

Leaning subtly his way, her voice dropped to a velvety, alluring murmur.

"Do you find me unattractive?"

Damon’s face stayed impassive.

"Why hide behind a false visage then?"

His voice remained steady, nearly detached, though his defenses heightened unseen.

At his side, Wendy’s brow furrowed. Instinctively, her fingers grazed the bone sword's hilt, aware it offered no use in this place.

Paimon cocked her head.

"This face is my true one—the form all behold..."

Her shape rippled and transformed into a woman bearing long blue hair and sharper, icier traits.

"Behold the visage of the First Demon Lord, Paimon. Each new High Priestess adopts her look to pay homage."

Damon gave a single nod.

"Understood. So Tamia is your actual name."

She denied it with a gentle shake.

"It was. No... I am Paimon. Yet I permit you alone to address me as Tamia."

Her gaze lingered on him.

"Does the name displease you?"

Damon shrugged lightly.

"No. It works. Reminds me a touch of tamberry."

Paimon blinked in surprise.

Wendy let out a quiet groan, shielding part of her face.

Damon kept his countenance utterly solemn.

For a drawn-out instant, Paimon just fixed her stare on him.

Sudden laughter erupted from her.

Pure, authentic peals that resonated gently across the temple chamber.

"Are you for real?" she gasped amid chuckles. "Do you grasp that I’m a Demon Lord?"

"And you must grasp," Damon countered flatly, "I don’t give a damn."

Paimon’s mirth swelled louder.

He entertained her greatly, at minimum. Who else would meet her eyes and converse so offhandedly, fully aware she ranked as a seventh-class advancement demon, sentinel of the Snake Temple, and high priestess devoted to the Unknown God?

"Was this why you quizzed me on love?" Damon inquired while they ventured further into the temple.

Majestic structures unfolded before them, walls adorned with abyss murals depicting gods and demons frozen in timeless clashes. Progressing through the hall, a searing heat flared in Damon’s palm.

He looked downward.

The mark from lich Amadeus throbbed softly. Passing the murals, it drew essence from the surrounding air, collecting it wordlessly. With each blink, Damon’s vision warped faintly, as if existence itself drifted askew.

His steps halted abruptly.

Paimon pivoted gradually, a subtle smile playing on Tamia’s soft features.

"Indeed. Love lies at the heart of it all. Love drew every one of us here. This very hall stands as proof of love."

Damon furrowed his brow as the mark pulsed once more, heating up in his palm. He couldn't figure out what it was pulling in, but its intense reaction to this spot was obvious.

Paimon lifted her hand and pointed at the walls.

"The first prophet of this temple constructed this hall. The world sees him in another light. On the demon continent, he's known as the First Demon. Outside, he's the Wicked Prophet, Mugu."

Damon's eyes went wide as Paimon halted before one of the murals.

An image of a woman appeared there.

Her face seemed eerily familiar, stirring unease in him. He didn't grasp why until her eyes caught his attention.

Naturally.

She resembled Abellona.

Damon's stare moved to the inscriptions etched beside her on the wall.

"This is where love dies."

"I crave the dreamless silence of the Unknown God. May all be shrouded in realms of dreamless solitude."

"How depressing," Paimon murmured softly, her gaze fixed on the carving.

"Love truly is a dreadful thing. It must hurt so much. I really wish to feel it myself. Everyone important seems tormented by it. The Demon of Salvation. The Goddess of Doom. The Unknown God. Mugu."

Damon eyed the priestess before him, at a loss for words. He'd always seen Paimon as overly carefree. Despite her sharp mind and vast knowledge, certain matters left her oddly clueless.

Who in their right mind would choose to fall in love?

"Unrequited love hurts more than never loving at all," Damon grumbled.

Paimon tilted her head a bit towards him.

"I beg to differ."

She met his eyes steadily.

"Unrequited love is better than not loving at all."