My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1141 - 1142: A Real Man

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Previously on My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger...

Godric, attempting to hunt in the wilderness, found his efforts thwarted by unseen shadow drones protecting him. He discovered a large encampment, believing them to be bandits, and decided to steal supplies. After filling multiple sacks from their pantry, he was confronted by a young girl when he attempted to leave.

A real man did not hold back when fighting a lady. Equal fights, equal rights.

Godric had been raised to love and respect women. Only a misogynistic piece of human garbage would hold back simply because his opponent was a girl.

Not only was that crude, it was disrespectful.

For that reason, he understood what had to be done.

With a heavy heart, he steeled himself.

He had to beat this girl up.

Turning around, he sized her up. She seemed ready for a brawl, though her stance was casual. Of course it was. She clearly lacked the years of training he possessed.

Ric glanced at the golden-haired girl standing in front of the tent flap.

"I gave you a chance to leave, but you still insist on involving yourself in my business."

Ranar frowned.

She did not know why, but something about his arrogance and the way he spoke reminded her of her father.

It was not cute.

If anything, it made her want to beat the living daylights out of him.

"You have the audacity to come into my camp, steal my food, and still act high and mighty?" she snapped, cracking her knuckles. "You wanna die? Fine. That can be arranged."

Ric gently placed the sack he was carrying on the ground.

"I see words cannot reach you, as you are hard of hearing. Very well, then. I shall harden my heart and resolve myself to hit you."

He placed a hand over his chest and sighed dramatically.

"Know that this hurts me far more than it will hurt you."

Ranar had already grown tired of his nonsense.

Before he could finish posturing, she vanished.

To Godric, it looked like teleportation.

A soft breeze brushed against his cheek.

Then it became a gust.

Then a storm.

The world spun several times, and for some inexplicable reason, everything around him was upside down.

He blinked and narrowed his eyes, only to find himself staring at his own legs while a sharp sting spread across his face.

Only then did he realize what had happened.

He had been slapped clean across the tent.

Godric pushed himself up, dusted off his clothes, and nodded solemnly.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. You caught me off guard."

He straightened his posture and folded his arms behind his back.

"Then again, I cannot fight a little girl with my full strength. I have honor."

Ranar rolled her eyes.

There was not a single child her age whom she considered stronger than herself, and this strange boy was no exception.

She would beat him up, drag him back to her father, and maybe—if she was lucky—she would earn a head pat.

Or even better.

A hug.

Golden light erupted around her as she released the pressure of her Fourth Class aura.

The air itself seemed to grow heavier.

Godric felt his stomach sink.

He gulped slightly, but somehow managed to maintain a calm expression.

"Not bad. Not bad indeed."

He nodded repeatedly as if evaluating her.

"Good. You are now almost on my level."

"I’m getting hyped up."

He began hopping around the tent, shadowboxing and pumping himself up as though preparing for a legendary battle.

Eventually, he reached the far corner.

"I’m ready."

With a dramatic flourish, he drew his sword.

Ranar planted her feet, ready to put him in his place.

Then Godric did something she never expected.

He spun around and slashed open the back of the tent.

The canvas split apart.

In one smooth motion, he snatched up the smallest sack and bolted.

"See you later!"

He shot out into the darkness as fast as his little legs could carry him.

For a moment, Ranar simply stared.

Then her face darkened.

"Oh, no you don’t!"

A radiant burst of light exploded from her body, tearing the tent apart as she flashed after him.

The knights outside immediately reached for their weapons and prepared to pursue her.

However, before anyone could move, a massive wall of shadows rose from the earth and blocked their path.

Damon’s voice echoed from the darkness dancing around the camp.

"There’s no need."

The shadows twisted and swayed.

"Leave her be. She’ll come back on her own."

No one questioned his orders.

Well, almost no one.

Evangeline placed a hand on her waist and stared at him in disbelief.

"Wha—what? Are you seriously letting her run around these mountains after dark? She’s ten."

"Yeah," Damon replied with a shrug. "And she’s in the Fourth Class Advancement. She’ll be fine."

He paused.

"I’m more worried about the wild child she’s chasing."

He spoke as though he knew nothing.

After all, the best lies were the ones you lived every day.

No one would question Ric’s origins. Damon himself had supposedly discovered the boy wandering through the mountains, and Ranar had been the one to catch him stealing their supplies.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes.

She had been watching the exchange carefully.

That boy was no wild child.

The sword he carried was finely crafted—custom-made, even. The magical frequencies engraved into the blade had clearly been tailored specifically for him.

Someone had invested an absurd amount of money into that weapon.

No ordinary child would possess such a thing.

"Where did that boy even come from?" Evangeline asked quietly.

"Who cares?" Damon answered casually. "He’s a kid her age. Sylvia’s prophecy came true."

That, of course, was another lie.

There had been no prophecy.

He had made the entire thing up to introduce Ranar to Godric and slowly guide the boy back into normal society.

Keeping Ric hidden inside the Tomb would have been safer.

Smarter.

Perhaps even wiser.

But Damon simply could not bring himself to do it.

He had already taken the boy away from his parents.