My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1020 - 1022: Myth Of Kings

Lysithara possessed a beauty that felt overwhelming to a simple village boy like Mugu.

His head swiveled constantly as he walked, his eyes wide, absorbing the sights around him. He marveled at the countless magic seals adorning the walls, which pulsed with a faint, lifelike glow. Runes danced in the air, coalescing and then dissolving into intricate patterns beyond his comprehension.

This form of magic was entirely foreign to him.

Everything appeared so... refined.

The pathways were constructed of smooth, lustrous stone, clean enough to mirror the surroundings. Buildings ascended with elegant grandeur, their construction a testament to meticulous craftsmanship and dedication. The inhabitants strolling along the thoroughfares were adorned in exquisite attire, moving with an unhurried grace and demonstrating composed expressions.

It gave the impression that everyone here was nobility.

"Could this be paradise?" Mugu whispered to himself.

"No. This is not heaven."

A voice emerged from his side. A man, clad in a simple, light tunic, stepped out from a nearby chamber. His demeanor was relaxed, his face placid, yet a keenness in his eyes belied his unassuming appearance.

"This is Lysithara. A place dedicated to learning. It may appear perfect, but it is far from it," he stated. He paused, lightly crossing his arms. "However, that is acceptable. Perfection is an ideal that remains forever out of reach. It is something we strive for, not something we achieve."

Mugu turned fully towards the man, his brow furrowed.

"If it's unattainable, why pursue it? Wouldn't that render the pursuit futile?"

A slight widening of the man’s smile occurred.

"Inquisitive. You possess a willingness to learn, yet you are also unafraid to question. You are well-suited for this place," he remarked.

He advanced a few steps, scrutinizing Mugu with greater intensity.

"Tell me, then. What is your understanding of philosophy?"

Mugu remained silent.

The man proceeded. "Perfection serves as an ideal precisely because its attainment is impossible. And perhaps, we harbor a hope that it does not truly exist. For once something reaches perfection, it ceases to evolve. It ceases to grow." His gaze sharpened. "Even the divine being is not without flaws. She continues to grow, despite her infinite and boundless nature."

Mugu’s eyes narrowed.

"That is blasphemy."

"Is it?" the man responded placidly. "Is questioning considered blasphemy? If so, does that not imply the goddess deceives us, withholding truths? A benevolent deity would encourage the quest for knowledge."

Mugu’s jaw clenched.

"A benevolent deity?" he echoed, his voice hardening. "If such an entity existed, I would not be in this predicament."

His hands balled into fists at his sides.

"If a god is real, then it must also be cruel. Otherwise, it would intervene to punish the wickedness that permeates this world."

Images flooded his mind.

Abellona's abduction.

Chains digging into his wrists.

The putrid smell of death emanating from below the ship.

The unspeakable horrors encountered in the mountains.

He lifted his head, his eyes now icy.

"God is either deceased or indifferent. And if not..." his voice descended, laced with pure venom, "then god is inherently evil. The goddess of doom has indeed earned her title."

For the very first time, he articulated the bitterness festering within him without reservation.

He was no longer the same person.

He harbored intense hatred for the wicked who exploited the innocent.

He felt utter contempt for the powerful who permitted such outrages.

The man erupted into laughter.

"Hahaha... Such boldness."

He wiped a tear from his eye, seemingly overcome with amusement.

"Were you to utter those words elsewhere, execution would likely be your fate, or at the very least, a brutal beating." He tilted his head slightly. "There is a group propagating their doctrines. They refer to themselves as the Temple. They worship the goddess with fervent devotion. Your perspective would undoubtedly offend them. They are nothing more than a wretched cult."

Damon, observing from within, grasped the implication instantly.

In this current age, Lysithara stood supreme.

The Temple was merely an insignificant fringe faction.

But in the future…

They would ascend.

"Good to know those scoundrels were already active this early on," Damon muttered.

The man extended his hand towards Mugu, a disarming smile playing on his lips.

"Lysithara maintains a detached stance regarding deities. We do possess temples, it is true, but their primary function is the academic study of religion, psychology, and belief systems. There are also individuals who endeavor to comprehend the gods themselves." His eyes ignited with passion as he spoke. "Other worlds, higher planes of existence, the very essence of divinity. The sages here are profoundly intrigued by that which lies beyond the celestial veil."

He paused, noticing Mugu's vacant expression.

"Ah... my apologies." He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "I tend to get carried away."

He placed a hand over his chest.

"I am Nemoriel, a student under the city lord, Vathren. I am one among many."

Mugu regarded him for a moment before mirroring the gesture.

"I am Mugu."

Nemoriel, with evident pleasure, escorted Mugu through the city before leading him to one of the designated dormitories.

The instant Damon entered, he became rigid.

He did not move.

Simply standing there within Mugu's body, he stared intently.

The interior arrangement was painfully, strikingly familiar.

"This is one of our oldest dormitories," Nemoriel stated with a cheerful tone. "It was among the very first structures erected when Lysithara was established, placing it near the city's core. While most ancient buildings have been supplanted over time, this one may soon face the same fate. Yet, for reasons unknown to me, both Lady Valerie and my master are adamant about its preservation."

Damon’s breathing caught in his throat.

He grasped with sudden clarity that he was presently inhabiting Mugu.

His hand slowly ascended to his chest, sensing the profound throb of a heart that was not his own.

Recollections began to surface.

Two children in a desolate desert, seated cross-legged upon the sand, imploring him for tales.

He had recounted to them the sagas of the War Halls within the Aether Academy. He distinctly recalled sketching the approximate layout in the sand, enabling them to visualize it better.

It was merely a rudimentary drawing.

It was merely a story.

And yet, the walls surrounding him, the architectural design, the very blueprint... it was undeniably recognizable.

"Say," Damon inquired through Mugu, endeavoring to maintain an even tone, "what is the history behind this particular location?"

Nemoriel let out a soft chuckle.

"Ah, you've noticed? It’s not common knowledge. Perhaps due to the prevailing rumors. People tend to avoid staying here."

"Rumors?" Damon questioned, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Indeed. It’s tied to an ancient founding legend. I am quite convinced Lady Valerie is the architect of its dissemination. She can possess a rather... capricious nature."

"Founding legend?" Damon pressed, his curiosity intensifying.

Nemoriel stroked his chin in contemplation as he guided Mugu down the hallway.

"It is recounted that the founders of Lysithara once had a sovereign. The King of Lysithara. A ruler cloaked in enigma. By the time the city achieved true prosperity, his memory had faded from all minds. Neither his name nor his visage could be recalled. All that remained was the knowledge of his immense power and profound wisdom."

Nemoriel’s demeanor shifted into one of playful intrigue. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"Whispers in legend suggest his astral essence still traverses these corridors, seeking souls who remember him. Should you fail to utter his name, it is said he absconds with your shadow, claiming it eternally."

Damon merely cast a nonchalant glance at him, his expression impassive.

"And that," Nemoriel continued, returning to an upright posture, "is the reason Lysithara is governed by city lords rather than kings. Lord Vathren inherited his title from a preceding city lord, and the one before him, from the original founders. The authority here always rests with a lord because prophecy foretells the king’s eventual return."

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Don't give it too much credence. I suspect Lady Valerie may have fabricated a significant portion of it."

He did not appear to be particularly impressed by his own narrative.

"This also explains why this dormitory remains largely unoccupied. Some claim peculiar occurrences transpire within its confines." He glanced at Mugu, anticipating some form of reaction.

Mugu’s face remained impassive, offering no discernible emotional trace.

Nemoriel observed him for a brief interval.

"Hmm. I surmise someone who has traversed the formidable Duhu Mountains would scarcely be unnerved by a spectral tale."

They paused before a chamber door.

"Well, endeavor to coexist peacefully with the others," Nemoriel advised as he swung the door open.

Damon couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle.

Within the War Halls, his own dormitory had occupied this precise position.

And now, Mugu was entering a room configured in almost the identical fashion.

For the first time, Damon perceived a truth with absolute clarity.

His actions within the nightmarish expanse of Lazarak had not been without their repercussions.

Lyn and Sithara possessed no recollection of him; they were unaware of his identity.

Yet, by some inexplicable means, they had managed to recreate fragments of the narratives he had shared.

A faint echo of a memory.

A spectral resemblance of himself.

"Here you are," Nemoriel said, presenting Mugu with a book. "A handbook for new arrivals."

Damon accepted it reflexively, but Mugu re-emerged, gazing at the book, then at Nemoriel. His normally cold expression flickered, dissolving into a semblance of awkwardness.

"I... I am unable to read."

Nemoriel did not react with amusement.

He simply offered a gentle smile and placed a hand softly upon Mugu’s shoulder.

"That presents no impediment. I can undertake your instruction. Alternatively, you may enroll in literacy classes. Such courses are part of the practical curriculum for rune magic, though few opt for them, given that rune magic remains a nascent discipline."

He stepped back towards the exit.

"Take some time to rest. Should you require any assistance, a call button is situated beside the bed. I shall also procure a communicator for you, enabling you to reach me directly."

Nemoriel had exhibited nothing but kindness, despite Mugu’s disheveled appearance.

"I... thank you," Mugu mumbled in a low voice.

Nemoriel offered one final smile before departing, gently closing the door behind him.