My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1186 - 1187: We Can Talk About This

He relived the moment he lost everything, the years he spent as a hired killer, and even the moment he lost his face.

He had eventually come to Anarchy City to abandon it all, to give everything up and find a place where he could finally live in peace.

He had been found by a village of Lunar Moths, and they had taught him their way of life.

But they had all died.

He had eventually been driven toward madness, and in the end, he had come to this city searching for a cure for the Anarchy Disease.

Instead, he had become its source.

"Goddess... I curse you. I curse you for your cruelty upon us."

There was only one way he could think of to stop it.

Suicide.

His soul began to break down, and with all the strength he had left, he forcibly seized control of his own hand.

Then, with a clean sword strike, he severed his own head.

The slice carried the city lord’s years of resolve, his anguish, and his pain. He remembered the day he left the capital city, swearing revenge against Damon Grey. As the years passed, that hatred only grew. He joined the army and made a living through war, but somewhere along the way, he began to question himself. What was the purpose of all this? What was the purpose of life itself?

He had killed and lost comrades. He had been ordered to kill the enemies of the empire, and some of those enemies had been nothing more than children.

The enemy were those who refused to obey the nobles.

He had watched villages being wiped out, and eventually he had done the same things that had once been done to his own village.

There was a pattern.

A circle.

And he had become part of it.

He deserted the army when they were sent to attack the Anarchy Mountains. When he came here, the Lunar Moths had taught him how to let go, but even they eventually succumbed to madness.

The pacification failed, and the Imperial Army retreated. Rolo remained behind. He tried to become kinder. He wanted change. He had learned to let go, and eventually he faced the former City Lord and defeated him.

Yet instead of inheriting peace, he inherited his hatred and madness.

Anyone who killed a City Lord became the next City Lord.

It wasn’t a tradition.

It was a curse.

Rolo had wished to break that wheel, but he had been too weak.

Now, all of his memories came rushing into Damon’s soul.

The hatred.

The wars.

The comrades he had lost.

The villages he had destroyed.

The Lunar Moths.

The endless cycle of violence.

And finally, the moment he had raised his sword against himself.

"Do you remember Phantom?"

Rolo’s fading soul asked one final question.

Damon’s soul was burning, yet somehow, amidst the flames, he had regained his clarity.

"I do. You are Rolo."

The City Lord smiled faintly.

"I forgive you. I pray that you forgive me."

Damon remained silent.

There was nothing left to say.

Rolo’s soul faded completely, and the moment his body died, Damon was forcibly expelled from it.

He emerged into the outside world as an exposed soul.

The barrier immediately locked onto him.

A terrifying force descended upon his soul, crushing it from all directions.

Damon’s expression changed.

He had forgotten about the barrier.

"Damnit."

The pressure intensified, and cracks began to spread across his Astral Form.

If he did not find a vessel, he would die without a doubt. Damon could feel it. His soul was already beginning to crack beneath the pressure of the barrier.

"Ahh... Deathless, you finally got me."

At this point, all he could do was accept that he was going to die. However, Damon was not the type to simply roll over and accept his fate.

He quickly glanced around, desperately searching for something he could use. Then he suddenly remembered Sylvia’s straw doll.

Without hesitation, he shot his Astral Form toward the corpse of the City Lord.

The doll had been created to imitate a living thing, so Damon could only hope it was capable of carrying his soul instead of merely acting as a dummy for taking on burdens.

The moment he entered it, the sensation was almost identical to possessing a shadow drone.

He could move.

He could think.

He could breathe, even if his new body was nothing more than an ugly, toy-sized doll.

"Hahahaha! Hahaha! I survived! I survived!"

Damon jumped up and threw his tiny arms into the air, his ridiculous doll body wobbling with excitement.

Ashcroft’s voice immediately sounded inside his mind.

"Shut up and call a shadow drone. And don’t forget to place the doll on the throne."

"Why are you being so mean? I was just trying to celebrate being alive. Not that you would understand since you’re a parasite leeching off me."

Ashcroft was silent for a moment.

"I hope you die."

Damon’s smile vanished.

"What a pleasant fellow."

He immediately called upon a shadow drone.

Suddenly, the upper ceiling shattered.

Something came crashing down through the opening.

Damon looked up.

A heavily damaged shadow drone landed among the debris.

"Well, they’re here."

He barely had time to finish speaking before a spear shot through the air and pierced the shadow drone, destroying it almost instantly.

Damon sighed.

"These Third Class models are really useless."

Since there was a spear, someone had obviously thrown it.

And sure enough, a woman jumped down from above, landing beside the destroyed shadow drone before reaching down to pull the spear from its remains.

Damon immediately threw his doll body onto the ground and went completely limp.

Play dead.

The woman paused.

"I can sense that you’re alive. What trickery is this? Show yourself."

Damon didn’t move.

He remained perfectly still, though after a moment he carefully turned his tiny doll head just enough to glance at her.

The woman’s eyes narrowed.

Without warning, she hurled the spear.

Damon’s doll body immediately rolled away, narrowly avoiding the weapon as it struck the ground where his head had been.

"Wait, wait!"

He scrambled backward on his tiny hands.

"We can talk about this."