My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 872 - 873: And Then—

Two weeks had elapsed, and the majority of the chamber's cocoons had finally hatched. Damon’s ranks had swelled with a significant force of drones—or "shadows," as he had taken to calling them.

Their physical forms varied based on their specific rank and intended purpose. Some appeared as humanoids, others took on bestial shapes, and a few were merely shifting silhouettes that clung to the stone walls.

Beyond simple combat types, various other specialized variants could be manifested.

There were countless possibilities to explore, yet time was a luxury he no longer possessed.

Damon shifted his focus to the parchment gripped in his hand. A message had arrived from Abellona. The offensive was set to commence by sunset, only a few hours away.

Her network of informants, which was secretly under the management of Lilith Astranova, had detected movement from the Black Tower. Damon was skeptical that any actual scouting had taken place. It was far more likely a result of foreknowledge. Lilith had already experienced these events in a past life.

Regardless of the source, Sylvia Moonveil remained stationed at Abellona’s side.

Damon proceeded with his final arrangements. His refusal to return was partly due to his friction with Lilith, but the primary factor was Abellona’s directive. She had warned him to stay away until the negotiations with the demon heirs were finalized. After all, Damon was responsible for the death of Amon, the very entity those heirs served.

Showing his face now would only provoke unnecessary aggression.

In truth, that suited his plans perfectly.

As for Lilith, he simply needed to ensure their paths did not cross.

His main objective was still the same: the elixir of pseudo immortality.

Damon swathed the spear Mutuwa in dark cloth before strapping it firmly to his back. The familiar weight of the weapon rested heavily between his shoulder blades.

This was his instrument of departure.

The spear had been crafted from a single strand of the goddess’s hair and forged into a tool of destruction by Lazarak.

This would be the cause of his death.

He couldn't help but notice the irony. Deathless, the very skill sustaining his life, was a gift granted by the Unknown God after the Goddess of Doom had slain him. Now, Damon planned to utilize Doom’s own power to terminate the existence the Unknown God had forced him to endure.

On the surface, the members of his cult stood prepared.

The decisive battle had arrived, just like that.

A sudden, heavy silence washed over the city. It felt as though every inhabitant could sense the impending tempest.

Damon prepared to depart and rejoin his companions, delegating authority over the cult and the shadows to Lazarak and the two children.

Matia followed close behind; after all, his comrades were her friends as well.

As his boots struck the stone of the city streets, a faint sense of nostalgia for his time spent here flickered within him.

"I suppose it will end soon.."

He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he looked up again, the firmament had been transformed.

Enormous spheres of fire were plummeting from the sky, trailing streaks of flame in every direction.

Hell was falling upon the city.

From his position, the overwhelming heat was not yet palpable to Damon. Instead, he sensed something far more chilling: several auras belonging to the fourth class advancement were descending upon the city like a divine sentence.

Rumble.

The ground shuddered under the impact of the falling fire. Buildings collapsed without warning. On the broad thoroughfare where Damon stood, debris rained down upon the panicked crowds.

A mother lunged to pull her child to safety, but she wasn't fast enough.

A stone no bigger than a melon shattered her skull, painting the pavement with blood. The young girl’s screams pierced the air as she wailed for her mother amidst the carnage.

Damon stood paralyzed.

This level of destruction was unexpected.

He slowly tilted his head upward.

A figure wreathed in roaring flames hovered in the sky, heavy chains coiled around his frame as he looked down with disdain. He lifted an arm, preparing to unleash another volley.

The conflagration spread with terrifying speed. In this arid desert city, timber and cloth caught fire instantly. The air was filled with the sounds of agony.

"They are destroying their own city.." Damon whispered, his chest tightening in shock.

The flaming man was not the only threat.

Nearby, another figure floated while holding a parasol. With effortless movements, he manipulated the currents of the wind. The flames were twisted and pulled together, birthing massive firestorms.

They were employing the exact strategy Damon had once used against them—the fusion of fire and wind.

A colossal tornado of flame rose up, tearing a path through the urban landscape.

Damon tracked its trajectory with his eyes.

It was moving directly toward the sector where a vast amount of their people and resources were gathered.

"They are aiming to sever our supply lines. This isn't just hubris; it’s a calculated preemptive strike."

"Dammit."

Damon ground his teeth and broke into a dead sprint, his boots thudding against the stone. For a moment, he considered summoning Matia from his shadow to strike at the two apostles.

He quickly discarded the idea.

She was a full rank below them. In the open sky, she would be an easy target for archers. This whole assault had been meticulously planned.

Reaching into his shadow storage, Damon drew his sword, the hilt fitting perfectly into his palm.

He vaulted onto the rooftops as the masses fled in terror below, panic outpacing the spreading fire.

Pressing a hand to his ear, he triggered his brand to contact Abellona.

"Hey, princess... what the hell is going on? I thought we had more time."

Her voice sounded strained, nearly drowned out by the sound of distant blasts.

"Your guess is as good as mine. It appears the enemy moved faster than we anticipated. This is ahead of schedule, but our preparations are complete regardless."

Damon cleared a rolling wave of fire and crashed through a burning window, glass spraying into the room.

"Now what."

Her voice resonated through the brand once more.

"Meet at my coordinates. The primary supply line is likely lost, but we have alternatives in place."

Damon tightened his jaw.

"Then let’s hope this doesn’t turn into a war of attrition. If it does, we’re trapped."

Before he could continue, his shadow perception signaled a warning.

The Chained Knights were mobilizing. Their entire force was converging on the Black Tower.

Vast layers of magical wards and seals began to shimmer around the structure, as if the tower itself was bracing for a cataclysmic event.

The atmosphere grew heavy.

The sensation of rejection pushing against Damon became almost unbearable.

He could feel it in his marrow.

The situation was about to spiral further out of control.

Elsewhere, Lilith stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She remained composed, with Sylvia standing at her side.

"The butterfly effect has begun," she murmured. "To think the Archivist from Eidolon survived the desert trek and arrived exactly now. In the previous timeline, you killed him when your paths crossed."

She turned her gaze toward Sylvia.

"That encounter never happened this time because I took you with me. Now, Seraph Null is aware."

.....

Damon halted abruptly.

Something was ascending from the Black Tower. Something immense.

His eyes widened with pure dread.

Then, a voice rang out.

It was a deep, primordial sound that vibrated through the very air.

"Lazarak. I know you are here, traitor god. Reveal yourself, coward, or I shall reduce this city to ash."

Vast wings unfurled.

They were so gargantuan they eclipsed the mountains. Each individual feather was broader than a massive oak tree.

"Seraph Null," Damon whispered, a cold shiver of terror running down his spine.