My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1002 - 1004: He’s Back

Agony overwhelmed Damon completely, leaving no chance for him to notice the system's alerts.

Every alert crashed into his mind like faraway thunder—perceived but incomprehensible, reverberating across a consciousness submerged in torment.

His form convulsed wildly while an invisible force remade him from within.

[You have awakened the skill: Shadow Prison]

[You have acquired Ashcroft’s brain — You have gained: Mind Dominate]

[You have acquired Ashcroft’s spine — You have gained: Gravity Dominate]

[You have acquired Ashcroft’s eyes — You have gained: Light Dominate]

[You have acquired Ashcroft’s ribs — You have gained: Metal Dominate]

[You have acquired Ashcroft’s wings — You have gained: Space Dominate]

[Ashcroft’s will stirs within you — You have gained: Wind Dominate]

As that final message thundered inside him, Damon's eyes burst open.

Ferocious energy tearing through his veins honed his perception keen as a blade rasping over bone.

[The will of the world has sensed your growth. Your fable is known to the stars. Choose your path and carve your destiny.]

[Creating your domain...]

[Failure. Error. Error. Error.]

[Creating your domain...]

[Error. Error. Error.]

[No domain detected.]

[The will of the world does not sense a domain.]

[Warning. Warning. Death is imminent.]

Damon remained utterly immobile.

Not even a finger stirred.

Not a single breath came.

It seemed the heavens had descended upon him, crushing down and demanding validation of what he still lacked.

Deep within, a certain will started to form.

Familiar.

Foreign.

Ancient.

Violent.

The world appeared to challenge him directly.

No rank was purely bodily.

It carried a deeper philosophy.

Yet Damon had evaded the vital question he should have confronted ages ago.

What is your domain?

Thus, only two paths lay before him now.

Fall back to the Fourth Class.

Or advance to the Fifth lacking a domain...

—and shatter under his own hubris.

A rasping, fractured laugh slipped from his lips.

"Haha... haha..."

This marked his end.

Every part of him howled for retreat. The curse inside pushed him to withdraw. To yield. To endure.

No lone will bore down on him.

This was the unified force of the whole world.

The totality of all conscious beings.

Fate incarnate.

"I see now..." he rasped, blood dripping from his mouth's edge while his frame shook without control.

"I get it... I didn’t understand before... but I do now..."

A shriek erupted in his thoughts. At his soul's core, something ripped apart, shattered, reformed.

"Choice... I see why he always mentioned choice. Fate arises from free will. And everyone possesses the power to decide."

His fingers clawed the ground, nails raking stone amid muscle convulsions.

"Then if their decisions condemn me... what then?"

His breaths turned harsh and uneven.

"If your will proves ruthless... commanding enough... it shatters even the collective force called fate."

Yes.

That defined the Unknown God.

A solitary will surpassing all.

A single choice overriding everything.

That was Ashcroft.

A will fearing naught.

A will that commanded utterly.

"Should I retreat now... I'll never advance again."

His shadow quivered below, twisting as if alive.

"I choose to defy."

The surrounding air warped subtly.

"I choose to fall knowing I pressed onward."

Once those words escaped, they transcended mere speech.

They transformed.

Into a concept.

A law.

A force.

That force expanded from him, seeping from his shadow like dark vapor, bearing his insanity, his rebellion, his scorn for submission.

A commanding will favoring destruction over surrender.

[You have created a domain.]

The crushing weight eased.

The world halted.

Then it accepted him.

Though his rank fell short for full manifestation, his unnamed domain gained substance, mass, reality.

[You have created the domain: Shadow Dominion.]

Damon had cheated death yet again.

Yet the ordeal persisted.

The system's tone returned, remote and unyielding, proclaiming his new essence.

[Angst and rage, poison and darkness. Solitude as a companion. Traitor to some, future uncertain.]

[Again you live where you should perish. Again you usurp the right of kings. Tyranny is your path.]

[Class: Dominator]

Scarce had the final words dimmed when another voice surged from his mind's abyss.

Cold. Arrogant. Ancient.

"You lowly usurper."

The phrase didn't reverberate. It clawed into his mind like talons sinking into yielding earth.

An oppressive will inundated his awareness, probing his dominance, seeking to seize his form.

Damon's jaws clenched as he hauled himself erect. His limbs quaked beneath the torrent of might still ravaging his bloodstream.

"You son of a bitch... I killed you," he growled, voice rough and strained.

A twisted smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"How many times must I slay you?"

"Surrender your mortal body, you scum," the voice demanded, laced with commanding power.

Damon sensed the alien will rush forth once more—

—only for it to halt suddenly.

He blinked in confusion.

A subtle echo of annoyance resonated within his thoughts.

"So, you still possess that cursed crown."

The surroundings enveloping Damon faded away.

Pitch-black void consumed all.

Suddenly, he stood amid a domain crafted purely from shadows. Innumerable drifting specters roamed a lightless abyss. Overhead, chunks of fractured space hovered like ruined landmasses adrift in emptiness.

In the heart of this illusory space loomed a figure.

Jet-black hair. Elongated horns. Enormous wings unfurled behind. Crimson eyes burning like coals in the murk.

Ashcroft.

Damon examined him methodically.

"You appear changed from my memory, you filthy imp," Damon remarked casually, even as his gut urged him to hide any frailty.

Ashcroft's authentic form radiated far greater menace.

"Your inner realm lacks originality," Ashcroft observed silkily, eyes scanning the infinite dark. "Brainless shades. Most appropriate."

The barb struck purposefully at Damon's essence.

"Planning to seize my flesh?" Damon inquired. "I anticipated schemes, but this? Truly a pestilent insect."

Ashcroft scoffed. Ordinarily, such taunts warranted immediate demise. Yet he held no contempt for Damon.

"Pitiful. Even burdened by mortality, you couldn't end me. Your form... it shall be mine in time."

He raised a hand with indolent grace.

Shadows from below coalesced, forging a colossal seat. It ascended into a grand throne upon endless stairs, elevating Ashcroft far above Damon like a monarch overlooking a vassal.

Damon perceived it at once.

The presence.

The mental oppression.

’That bastard’s just flexing his aura on me,’ Damon swore silently.

Then clarity hit.

Ashcroft held back from striking.

Meaning he was unable.

"I welcome the visit," Damon quipped flatly. "But I despise vermin. Vanish."

Shadows surged around him, crafting myriad ebony blades that hurtled at Ashcroft.

They phased harmlessly through, like mist.

Ashcroft remained unmoved.

"No harm can touch me," he stated evenly, conjuring a goblet of wine from nowhere. "I belong to this psyche. You consumed my mind and meat. This realm is equally mine as yours."

He inclined the cup in derisive salute.

"Is lingering here wise... as your world crumbles in flames?"

Damon clenched his jaw.

His eyes flew open.

A deafening blast rocked the temple.

The atmosphere quaked with propagating shockwaves. Bursts of ruin illuminated the outer skies.

Damon dashed ahead and peered outside.

High aloft, a blue-haired being with immense wings furiously dueled a silver-haired blade master. Every clash ripped reality, spawning ragged tears in space that lingered.

Seras.

Paimon.

Below on the earth, mayhem reigned. Priestesses clashed against Seras’s invading troops. Kael battled amidst the fray as the temple shuddered from the onslaught.

Damon’s gaze darted frantically over the chaos.

This spelled disaster.

Seras held might—but Paimon surpassed her. Not even with the sacred blade could she prevail.

"Such nerve to assault the Snake Temple," Ashcroft’s tone mocked within his head. "Doom awaits you all."

Damon snorted sharply.

"Could you hush?" he grumbled. "I’ve enough echoes in my skull. No room for extras."

Damon lunged toward the fray—

—when a eruption burst from his rear.

The impact hurled him face-first into the rock barrier. Agony lanced his nose as fissures raced across the stone from the collision.

He reeled backward, hand to his face, eyes bulging.

No assailant struck.

His own wings had.

They had burst open savagely, extending with ferocious might that recoiled him like a plaything.

Damon spun, peering back.

Pair of gigantic wings protruded from his shoulders, spanning an adult’s height. Onyx. Solid. Formidable. They twitched naturally, probing the surrounding breeze.

Then he sensed it.

Might.

It flooded him in potent surges. Sinews bulked up. His build compacted, brimming with raw force. Horns extended, arching boldly from his head.

Vitality seeped from his pores like blaze from a forge.

"Haha... looks like you’re growing more infernal," Ashcroft chuckled mentally, vastly amused. "Not yet a full fiend, but you’ll arrive soon enough."

Damon tuned him out.

Time slipped away before he could inspect his own state. No chance to comprehend the transformation gripping him.

The Ouroboros Coil's location still eluded him.

Ashcroft offered little hope of aid.

"Shut up," Damon grumbled.

Ashcroft’s voice dripped with mockery.

"Your entire inner world is screaming the same thing. If I were you, I’d worry less about the Coil and more about the demon lords coming here."

Damon went rigid.

An icy shiver crawled down his spine.

"What?"

Ashcroft wasted no time.

"If you die, that would be inconvenient for me. This temple has three Nexus Gates. Find them. Destroy them before the demon lords arrive."

Damon’s gaze sharpened.

"Nexus gates?"

Ashcroft’s tone grew steely.

"Get to work, you mongrel."