My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1023 - 1025: Breaking Point

Ten years after departing his home, Mugu finally made preparations to depart Lysithara. His aura had ascended to the Fourth Class, and power radiated from him like a second skin.

Valcara attempted to impede his departure, blocking his path and grasping his arm. Mugu, however, gently dislodged her hand. Despite possessing the strength, she found herself unable to resort to violence to detain him.

Thus, she resorted to the only other course of action available.

She equipped him.

A swifter method of travel. Escape artifacts. Protective talismans. An alarming quantity of potions. Each item was placed into his hands with deliberate care, as if the action itself could somehow postpone his leaving.

Though concern etched Valcara’s features, she ultimately permitted him to depart. This aligned with her core philosophy, after all.

One cannot dictate the world’s treatment of them, only one’s reaction to it.

Mugu had cultivated numerous friendships. A gathering assembled to bid him farewell, hands clasped on his shoulders, voices offering heartfelt prayers for his safe journey. He departed under the collective blessings of the entire city.

He mounted a wyvern and ascended into the heavens, steering his course toward his homeland.

Damon’s ethereal form observed him silently before addressing Ashcroft.

"This is the juncture where everything begins to unravel, wouldn’t you agree?"

"Indeed," Ashcroft concurred within the confines of his mind.

"I possess grounds to suspect there is more to his downfall than initially apparent," Ashcroft elaborated.

Damon, though uncomprehending, accepted that he would eventually uncover the truth, and thus remained silent.

Several days elapsed as Mugu traversed the vast ocean. Upon his wyvern reaching the Doom Continent, a weariness born of travel settled upon his countenance. Fatigue etched his features, yet his eyes remained piercingly sharp.

Mugu had, at long last, returned.

His purpose was to rescue Abellona.

By the time sunset painted the sky, he arrived at the Valtheron Kingdom. It was a modest realm, possessing a comparably small military. The most formidable among their ranks were merely Fourth Class, equivalent to his own current standing.

However, Mugu’s power far surpassed theirs.

He guided the wyvern to a descent just outside the capital city of Valerion and dismounted. His boots met the ground with a soft thud as he proceeded toward the gates.

His heart swelled, making each breath feel constricted. Each step he took stirred echoes of the hardships endured to reach this very point.

The agony. The despair. The profound guilt.

Now, it would all conclude.

He would reclaim Abellona.

He would deliver the prince of Valtheron to his end.

His gaze ignited with unbridled killing intent.

With practiced deftness, Mugu traced a concealment rune across his chest. His immediate priority was the rescue of Abellona before undertaking any other action.

He permeated the castle gates unnoticed. Within its confines, he apprehended a passing guard, slamming him against the wall with sufficient force to cause the very stone to tremble.

"Scream, and you die," he whispered, his voice a chilling rasp.

The guard nodded with palpable haste. He could discern the immense disparity in strength separating them.

"Now then," Mugu stated, his tone frigid.

"Where is Abellona?" His voice, though calm, was thick with suppressed killing intent.

The guard's eyes widened in alarm.

"Yo... you desire... what is it you want with the queen?"

Mugu's brow furrowed as he tightened his grip on the man's arms.

"What do you mean, the queen?"

"Ahh... ahh..." the guard stammered, choking on his words. "Her Majesty Abellona is the queen of Valtheron."

"And where is she?" Mugu pressed.

"I shall never betray Her Highness," the guard declared defiantly.

Mugu pressed his palm against the man’s head.

The guard’s body began to deteriorate rapidly, his flesh disintegrating as if succumbing to decay within mere seconds.

"Oh, you will."

Mugu stepped onto the balcony, where blossoms cascaded over the stone railings, their fragrance permeating the night air. A woman was seated there, her posture serene, her gaze fixed upon the twin moons with a tranquil, fragile demeanor.

He stood in quiet observation, watching her for what felt like an immeasurable duration before finally finding his voice.

"Is there anything noteworthy about the moon this evening?"

"No, not at al—"

She halted mid-sentence. Her head turned slowly. Her eyes widened, as if she had encountered a spectral apparition.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek. Without hesitation, without questioning her own perception of reality, she surged forward and embraced him fully.

"Mugu... you are alive."

He enfolded her in his arms, as if fearing she might dissipate into thin air. His hand lifted to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently against her delicate cheek.

"Abellona... I have missed you dearly."

She searched his eyes, her gaze filled with an aching longing. Then, reality intruded upon her solace. Her hands tightened around his wrists, pulling them away.

"You must leave. Before you are discovered."

Mugu responded with a shake of his head, a subtle smile gracing his lips.

"Do not fret. I shall manage. My strength has grown considerably. I am capable of protecting you."

He spoke as though mere power possessed the ability to rectify the past.

Before further words could be exchanged, a small child darted into the garden, closely pursued by an older girl.

"Mother, mother, she is going to hit me," the younger child wailed, seeking refuge behind Abellona and clinging to her dress.

Mugu's eyes widened momentarily, but he quickly composed his features into an expression of calm.

The children noticed him. Their playful chase faltered as they paused, regarding him with cautious curiosity before turning their gaze upward to their mother.

"Who is this person?" the younger one inquired.

Abellona drew a deep breath, composing herself before replying.

"Mugu... these individuals are my children. This is the youngest. This is the middle child. The eldest one is not present."

Mugu gave a slow nod and offered them a gentle, reserved smile.

"Greetings to you all."

They shyly waved back, partially concealed behind their mother.

Damon observed from the periphery, his gaze flicking between Mugu and the children. He couldn't discern Mugu's feelings upon seeing them, aware of their father's identity.

"He is a more formidable man than I, that is certain," Damon whispered to himself.

Ashcroft emitted a low sound of concurrence.

Mugu extended his hand, tenderly taking Abellona’s.

"Come. We must depart. Your children can accompany us. We can journey far from this place."

Her eyes widened. The hope infusing his tone caused her to lower her head.

"I... cannot," she murmured.

Mugu frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"It is perfectly fine. You need not harbor fear. I possess the strength now. I can prevent them from interfering between us."

Abellona bit her lip as two sets of footsteps drew nearer from behind. One light and swift. The other steady and measured.

Mugu remained facing forward. His shoulders tensed. An icy killing intent emanated from him as he slowly turned to face them.

"You," he stated, his voice turning frigid.

The prince, now ascended to the throne, met his gaze.

Mugu scrutinized the man's face, searching for the remembered cruelty, but the individual before him appeared serene, almost benevolent. No animosity flickered in his eyes.

A decade had transpired. Mugu had never forgotten that visage.

"So, I was unworthy of remembrance? Do you even recall who I am?"

The king offered a slight smile, casting a glance at Abellona before nodding.

"Indeed. You are Mugu. You have undergone considerable change. I nearly failed to recognize you."

This was not the monstrous figure Mugu had preserved in his memory. This man was a husband. A father.

The king moved past Mugu, gently caressing Abellona’s hair.

"Are you unharmed, my dear?"

She gave a faint nod.

That simple gesture severed Mugu’s self-control.

In a flash, he stood beside the king, grasping his neck and hoisting him slightly off the ground.

"Do not lay a hand on her, you wretch."

The king gasped, his fingers scrabbling at Mugu’s wrist as he fought for breath.

"Release him, Mugu. Let him go."

Abellona pressed against Mugu’s arm with both hands, attempting to compel him to loosen his grip on her husband. The king stumbled back as Mugu released him, choking, his neck turning red.

"What are you doing, Abellona? He merits death," Mugu bellowed, his eyes colder than arctic ice.

The three children hurried to their father's side, taking refuge behind him, their faces streaming with tears.

"Cease your attempts to murder my husband."

"Your husband? Have you forgotten his past deeds? He is a monster," Mugu roared.

"He has transformed. He is no longer the same man," Abellona stated, her voice trembling. "What transpired in the past is now concluded."

"Please... please just depart," she pleaded.

Color drained from Mugu’s face. It felt as though his heart had ceased its rhythm.

"I... I cannot comprehend. My sole intention was to rescue you. Do you have any inkling of the sacrifices I made to arrive here? To save you?"

She gazed at him with eyes devoid of warmth.

"I do not require your salvation. I never sought it."

Her words inflicted a wound deeper than any blade. The expression in her eyes pierced him. All his past tribulations. All his subsequent transformation. None of it held any significance.

"Leave me and my family in peace," Abellona said, assisting her husband to his feet.

Damon observed the light extinguish within Mugu’s eyes. The resolve that had fueled him for years dissolved into utter desolation.

"Hmm," Ashcroft mused softly. "Something feels amiss."

Mugu remained motionless as Abellona walked away.

She had no need for him. She did not desire him. She did not love him.

He had no recollection of his departure from the palace. Only that he had left.

The world seemed to grow dim and oppressive, heavier than before.

He located his wyvern, ascending its back with slow, automatous movements, and it bore him towards Soltheon guided by pure instinct.