My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1035 - 1037: Contribution Points

Damon's resolve was unwavering. Involvement in a seemingly endless campaign was not something he desired. If conquering Lysithara were truly feasible, his ancestors would have achieved it long ago.

Even bypassing the Duhu Mountains and opting for the less perilous Second Gates would prove futile, as Ashergon, residing there, would undoubtedly incinerate any approaching army with a single fiery sortie, considering the dragon the entire land surrounding Lysithara his dominion.

Furthermore, the legions of monstrous creatures and corrupted abominations lurking within and around the Whispering Forest presented another insurmountable obstacle, capable of annihilating any force before the true conflict even commenced.

The formidable city of Lysithara was encircled by the Whispering Forest, a wild expanse teeming with bizarre and eldritch horrors across its varied regions.

Such an undertaking would span years, and Damon harbored significant doubts about his own survival.

He could not afford such a reckless expenditure of his life.

His own life was not the primary concern, however. Damon was confident in his ability to withstand most hardships. His true apprehension lay in the passage of time.

What fate awaited his daughter? What if the campaign stretched across decades? Would his daughter even recognize him upon his return?

Damon vividly recalled the image of his parents departing for the battlefield.

He was determined to prevent his daughter from growing up without him, if it was within his power.

The entire chamber's attention shifted towards Damon, who sat with a hand resting thoughtfully against his chin.

"Did I not make myself clear? I said no."

The speaker, a military officer, lacked the requisite standing to openly defy Damon—a count, grandson of the Grand Duke, a celebrated hero, and a formidable warrior in his own right. Consequently, his gaze instinctively diverted towards the Emperor, who let out a soft sigh.

The Emperor turned his attention to Damon, inhaling deeply. His authoritative presence was measured and calm; he understood that coercion or threats would be ineffective in swaying Damon.

"This strategy has been finalized by military command. However, our purpose here is to refine the finer details. Therefore, if you possess any input or wish to alter your assigned role, we are open to considering such proposals."

Damon's eyes scanned the holographic projection before him. He had been slated for command over three full divisions, encompassing numerous battalions and thousands of soldiers.

"Your Majesty, I am grateful for the opportunity to speak," He directed his gaze towards the dimly illuminated chamber, where the large central projection served as the sole significant light source. "However, I must clarify that I am not refusing my assignment."

His voice took on a colder edge.

"I am refusing to participate in the campaign whatsoever."

The instant Damon uttered these words, a wave of shocked gasps rippled through the chamber.

These were individuals from the goddess races, and Doom was a deity of war. For one born of her lineage to reject warfare itself was a transgression bordering on religious heresy.

"So, you finally reveal your true cowardice, do you not?"

The Elf King's characteristically icy voice Cut through the air from the delegation area of the Verdant Continent.

"Not in the slightest. I harbor no fear. I fear no one. Were I a coward, I believe conforming to your collective desires would be far simpler than opposing them."

Damon's tone remained smooth, betraying no sign of agitation.

And indeed, he felt none.

He was Damon Grey.

"I see you remain as egotistical and arrogant as ever," Kadelas remarked.

"No, not at all. I've become considerably more mellowed. Were I younger, I would undoubtedly be far more spirited. In these present times, I find myself preferring to underreact."

He spoke the truth.

Damon possessed a greater sense of calm these days. The subtle smile gracing his lips was gentler and warmer, a stark contrast to the Damon Kadelas remembered.

He radiated a newfound warmth.

This warmth stemmed from Damon himself, or at least, his conscious effort to cultivate it. He desired his daughter to harbor a positive perception of him, hence his practice in smiling without appearing menacing.

"Is that so? Was dispatching a great dragon to the Moonglades also a manifestation of your newfound mellowing?"

Kadelas's words caused a slight tremor in Damon's eyes. He had not anticipated the Elf King's willingness to openly broach the subject in such a public forum.

Did his pride no longer concern him?

"What exactly do you imply, Your Majesty? A great dragon?"

The chamber immediately became abuzz with whispers and murmurs.

"The incident where Rexagon attacked the glades."

"I heard that numerous lives were lost."

"They say their hidden elders themselves emerged to repel the dragon, alongside the Elf King."

"That is a rather bold accusation against my nephew, Elf King."

Cassian rose slowly, his potent aura erupting outward, suffusing the room with a brilliant golden luminescence.

"Do you perceive me as a fool or a liar, Golden Death?"

Kadelas also ascended to his feet. A profound aura permeated the very fabric of existence, harmonizing with the surrounding laws. Pale moonlight cascaded into the chamber, directly confronting Cassian's golden radiance.

Damon narrowed one eye, momentarily blinded by the intense light.

"Enough."

The Emperor's voice cut through the tension, and the very essence of time seemed to falter as both luminous displays receded.

"Kadelas is presenting a serious accusation, yet he has already laid out his case and evidence," the Emperor stated neutrally, attempting to quell the rising tension. "Although House Brightwater has argued it is inadmissible, I find myself somewhat inclined to agree with the points raised."

Damon was undoubtedly the culprit, but from a political standpoint, he maintained a degree of plausible deniability.

"I refuse to accept his release without any form of punishment," Kadelas declared with a cold demeanor.

*At least let him face some consequences, even if purely symbolic,* he mused internally.

"Damon has committed no wrongdoing. How can you hold him responsible for a dragon attack, a natural disaster? He is but a child, and I will protect him," Cassian’s voice boomed, resonating with the conviction of someone prepared for an imminent conflict.

A slow sigh emanated from the contingent representing the Magic Continent.

"Duke Brightwater, please exercise restraint. I am certain a resolution can be found. At present, Rexagon is not our primary concern; it is Ashergon, currently flying over the battlefield, that demands our attention," the speaker, an elderly man known well to Damon, addressed the Duke.

It was the Headmaster of the Magic Academy.

He cast a glance at the Emperor before his gaze shifted to Damon.

"I suspect you have little desire to participate in the campaign."

Damon responded with a shake of his head.

"That is correct. However, I am still prepared to contribute in terms of logistics, supplies, military strategy, and whatever else I can offer. Furthermore, I will officially join the fray once the army reaches Lysithara. After all, my desire to slay Morticai remains strong."

"A vague promise at best, and supplies are not what we desperately need right now. Victory and a rallying point to elevate morale are paramount. That is precisely why you were hand-picked," the words came unexpectedly from someone Damon recognized.

It was Leona’s father, the Roaring Gale. He exuded the same placid calm Damon remembered, like the stillness preceding a tempest.

Then, the man’s gaze fixed directly upon Damon.

"I have a proposition. Should you make a significant contribution, we can potentially reduce the required years spent on the battlefield."

Damon’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally.

A premonition of trouble began to stir within him.

As anticipated, the moment the required contribution points materialized on the projection, even Damon’s expression faltered slightly. The sheer quantity demanded was utterly preposterous.