My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 861 - 862: The Malcrist

"Anything you hold dear is merely a handle for someone else to seize."

Perched upon his thighs, she whispered those words. Her frame was soft and radiating warmth, yet the sensation differed entirely from what he felt with Lilith or Sylvia.

Damon tightened his jaw, biting his lip.

‘Get these thoughts out of your head.’

He wondered if she was intentionally testing the limits of his willpower. If this was a provocation, it was a blatant one.

"Would you mind getting off me?"

A faint smile played on Renata’s lips as she shifted her weight, wiggling her hips instead of moving away.

"Why? Are you feeling—"

"No. You’re just heavy," he interrupted before she could finish the thought. It truly felt as though the world was conspiring to challenge his self-control today.

Renata remained where she was, refusing to budge. Instead, she let her head rest against his shoulder. In truth, she wasn't heavy at all. Even if she were, Damon possessed enough raw strength to uproot a skyscraper; her weight was inconsequential.

Leaning in closer until her chest pressed firmly against him, she brought her lips to his ear and spoke in a low murmur.

"Would you be so dismissive if it were Lilith Astranova?"

Damon maintained a perfectly stoic mask.

"Fair point. Carry on."

The sooner she finished her explanation, the sooner he could escape this compromising position. The last thing he needed was for Evangeline to walk in and find him pinned down by Renata like this.

For a brief moment, Renata fell silent.

"Anything you hold dear is merely a handle for someone else to seize."

Her demeanor shifted instantly. The playful smirk vanished, replaced by the cold, focused expression she wore during serious matters.

"This wasn't just a saying. It was a philosophy. One my lineage has lived by for millennia."

Personal philosophy was no small thing. A person’s worldview dictated their path, their class, and ultimately their destiny. It was a crucial element, standing alongside birthright, fortune, bloodlines, and raw ambition.

However, when an entire clan was forged by a single, rigid philosophy, the outcomes became far more extreme.

While it was theoretically possible to manipulate one’s class through such means, it was a rare occurrence in reality.

For Renata, it wasn't just education; it was total indoctrination.

"My family originated as a minor demon clan, sworn to Ashcroft, the Demon Lord of Domination. We weren't legendary. We were barely worth noticing. In the grand scrolls of history, we didn't even merit a footnote."

Her tone was devoid of emotion, almost clinical.

Damon couldn't detect any sentiment in her voice; she sounded like she was reciting cold facts rather than personal history.

"My ancestors were present when Ashcroft met his end in Soltheon. When the peerless Demon Lord of Domination was defeated, the world spiraled into madness. Even within the demon continent, the seventy-two demon lords fought tooth and nail for dominance. The invasion crumbled, and the world was consumed by fire."

She adjusted her head against his shoulder, seemingly hiding her face from his view.

"Chaos reigned, leaving no room for organization. No one bothered to track which demon clans survived the purge. Families were extinguished as easily as autumn leaves falling from a tree."

He could feel her breath now—slow, measured, and rhythmic. Her chest rose and fell steadily against his own.

"In a world without a king or order, no one knew how to survive. Various factions clawed for power. The empire rose among them, seizing territory, while the temple expanded by using fear to spread their faith."

She rested her palm flat against his chest.

"That was when my forebears decided to settle. They built a reputation as demon hunters, ensuring no one suspected their true nature. They became allies of the empire—demons hiding among humans. It was a disgrace, certainly. But to us, the goddess races were merely pathetic, small obstacles in the way of ultimate conquest."

She shifted slightly, angling her face toward his.

Damon silently wished she would stop moving; having her sit on him was already pushing his limits.

"Ashcroft instilled a sense of superiority in demons," she went on. "A young race that had been used and stripped of their dignity. Their rage was justified. He gave them a sense of pride and a superiority complex. And why shouldn't he? Demons were naturally more powerful."

Her eyes softened.

"When he was gone, their purpose vanished with him. They were adrift. My ancestors were lost... until..."

Damon placed a hand on her slender waist to keep her steady.

"The prophecy."

She gave a small nod, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"It provided them with hope, while striking terror into the goddess races. The demon who had nearly conquered everything would return. To them, that fear was pure despair."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"That is why my family remained in Soltheon. They were convinced Ashcroft would be reborn at the very site of his fall. Every action they took was a testament to their loyalty."

Damon drew her slightly closer, not out of desire, but to ensure their conversation remained private.

"All I’m hearing is a history lesson," he said quietly. "What does any of this have to do with you?"

She shifted her weight again, pressing down on his legs as she turned fully to face him.

"This is the legacy of my house," she whispered. "And it is the source of my pain. Our agony."

Her violet eyes cast downward.

"Eons passed. We transformed into a quiet, minor noble house. We weren't the weakest, nor were we the strongest—just unremarkable. But surviving in a land that despised demons was a constant struggle."

Her fingers gripped the edge of his armor tightly.

"We adapted to survive, but we never allowed ourselves to forget our roots."

She bit her lip.

"I was raised to hold my demon heritage above all else. We were no longer just a new race forged by the first demon lord, nor a minority to be hunted. Ashcroft revealed our true strength to us."

She pressed a hand over her heart, her posture radiating a sudden, sharp pride.

"I am Renata Malcrist, a demon. And I carry that identity with pride."

Damon felt a strange pang in his chest.

To him, being even a partial demon had always been a source of shame. He had gone to great lengths to suppress his horns. Seeing her unabashed pride made his hand instinctively twitch toward his head.

"It is simpler for female demons," she said softly. "We lack horns. For the males, hiding is much more difficult."

She bit her lip once more.

"Survival meant discarding everything we could live without. That is the origin of those words."

Her voice grew even softer.

"Anything you hold dear is merely a handle for someone else to seize. If you value nothing, Renata, you will never know the pain of loss."

She let out a long, slow breath.

"That was the most important lesson my parents ever taught me."