My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 866 - 867: Anyone’s Gamble

The sheer intensity of his loathing for the demon race was palpable, vibrating through his words and the suffocating weight of his aura.

It was exactly what one would expect from the warrior who had decapitated Amon, the legendary secret sovereign of the demon tribes. To the goddess races, he was a savior. Even if his personality was utter trash, his abhorrence for demons was the real deal. That single fact was enough to earn him the respect of those present.

In their eyes, this was the ideal image of a youth from the goddess races: a relentless demon-hater through and through.

His arrogance mattered little when he possessed the overwhelming power to back it up. As long as his heart burned with hatred for demons, that was all they required.

Ishara Fang cast a sidelong glance toward him, her ears twitching with interest. Velora Nyxfall of the Silver Glades, who had been lingering silently in the shadows, allowed a faint smile to touch her lips. It was only natural that the bearer of the Silver Blades would harbor such contempt for demonkind.

Those very blades had been forged with the sole purpose of slaughtering demons, passed down through countless generations as sacred heirlooms for that specific task.

Magnus Trombone gazed at Damon, his eyes shimmering with rising emotion.

"Such righteous indignation. Such a noble disgust for that repulsive demon race. Please accept my apologies, sir. I was unaware that you were a man of such steadfast convictions."

A wave of supportive whispers flowed through the chamber. Admiration surged through the crowd, fueled by Damon’s commanding presence and the absolute conviction in his tone.

Sylvia let out a weary sigh.

She was forced to proceed with this absurd theatrical performance. Had she possessed more wit, or had she not fallen for the absolute wrong man, she wouldn't be standing here committing social suicide.

Then again, she had already thrown away her political future once before when she claimed to be pregnant out of wedlock for Damon's sake. In comparison to that scandal, this was a minor inconvenience.

"The demons are formidable," Sylvia stated, straightening her posture. "Every one of them is a master of combat. They possess unique talents and utilize highly unorthodox battle strategies."

Damon ground his teeth together.

"Sylvia, I find it hard to believe a noble princess of the elves would even suggest such a path. Are you truly prepared to spit on the legacy of your ancestors who spent centuries at war with demons?"

She bit her inner lip to steady herself.

‘Don’t you dare bring my ancestors into your games, you bastard.’

The surrounding crowd reacted instantly, shouting their encouragement for Damon.

She forced herself to maintain the act.

"Our probability of success is low. You admitted it yourself. Incorporating the demons improves our odds. Many of you have families and loved ones waiting for your return. You must weigh the lesser of two evils."

Damon folded his arms, looking deeply conflicted as he surveyed the room, which had fallen into a sudden hush.

He closed his eyes slowly.

"In that case, I choose death."

Lilith’s hand began to shake.

An unwanted memory flashed before her eyes: Damon laughing with arrogant pride, mangled and broken, finding his only liberation in the end.

Her vision blurred as she watched the debate unfold like a detached observer.

There was still one final opportunity. If she failed here, she only had a single regression remaining.

‘When does the act of surviving under Damon become no different from being enslaved by him?’

The people in this room only cared about survival. And he was manipulating them with terrifying proficiency.

Sylvia crossed her arms defiantly.

"Then we treat them as nothing more than disposable tools. We place them in the most perilous positions while our own kin remain in safety."

Damon hesitated.

"Hm. Are you proposing that we abandon our honor?"

"That's right!" someone bellowed from the crowd. "We'd rather perish! We are the honorable goddess races!"

Damon raised a hand, instantly quieting the room.

"We? Who exactly is 'we'?" he asked softly, arching an eyebrow. "There is no such thing as honor when one deals with demons."

He turned his gaze back to the gathered assembly.

"Can't you see the logic? We maintain a facade of alliance only to hurl them into the deadliest sectors of the war zone."

His shadows began to creep outward, casting a dark pall over the room.

"We settle two scores at once. This will serve as vengeance for my comrade, Prince Wagon."

The sheer pressure of his aura stifled any remaining disagreement. Using nothing but his presence and a basic ruse, he demolished any thought of defiance.

"It is a brilliant plan. It’s a good thing I came up with it."

Sylvia winced. He could at least pretend she had played a part in the idea.

"Oh. And Sylvia helped too," Damon added with a lazy shrug.

He raised his palm.

"All those in favor of using demons as expendable pawns, say aye."

A moment of silence passed.

Then, the voices began to rise.

"Aye."

"Aye."

"I concur."

Xander narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"It is a disgrace to our honor. Nevertheless, I shall not stand in the way."

Damon rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Be quiet, Xander. Nobody asked for your opinion."

He scanned the room once more.

"Now, let us move to logistics. We are mobilizing thousands. We require rations, potions, mana cores, food, weaponry, and much more."

Abellona, who was technically the leader of this council, found herself completely pushed to the sidelines.

She shut her eyes in frustration.

‘I absolutely loathe it when he takes over like this.’

Lilith, who had already endured the horrors of this war in a previous life, raised her hand to speak.

"Your strategy is to incite chaos in the outer sectors while elite raid squads—organized into forty separate parties—launch a coordinated strike on the Black Tower."

Damon blinked in surprise.

"Ah. Yes. Exactly that. How did you figure it out?"

He frowned internally.

‘Am I really that easy to read?’

Or perhaps Lilith simply understood his nature too well, including his deep-seated love for absolute mayhem.

She shook her head slowly.

"Seraph Null will have a counter-strategy prepared. Our death toll will be twice as high. Even if we somehow manage to topple him against all odds, it will be a hollow victory."

She let out a long, controlled breath.

"The cost is too high. The Elixir of Pseudo Immortality is perpetually protected by the apostles."

She purposely allowed that specific detail to drop into the conversation.

Damon caught it immediately as the eyes of every adventurer in the room ignited with avarice.

"The Elixir of Pseudo Immortality?" he questioned.

Lilith turned her gaze to Damon. Her emerald eyes were freezing, filled with the collective frustration of watching him embrace death time and again.

"Correct. A mythical potion forged by a deity. It can heal any affliction and provides functional immortality."

A small, knowing smile played on her lips.

"It is the ultimate prize within the Black Tower. Seraph Null has stood watch over it for eons. Such an artifact is peerless. Whoever claims it would possess more wealth than any kingdom on earth."

Damon’s brow furrowed. He looked genuinely perplexed.

What was her game?

Lilith clenched her jaw.

She was finished with grieving. She was done with being a helpless witness. If he chose not to value his life, she would provide him with a motive to stay alive.

Her fingers brushed against the flower pinned in her hair.

In this timeline, she would emerge victorious.

"It is within reach for anyone in this room."