My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 873 - 874: Limits Of A God

Seraph Null was far from the entity Damon had envisioned. He had anticipated a figure resembling a man—something recognizable and easy to process.

The reality was a complete nightmare of inhuman design.

This lesser god manifested as a massive sphere composed of interlocking, layered chains that rotated with agonizing slowness. Nine colossal wings sprouted from its core. These wings were similarly bound in metal, each feather surpassing the size of a giant oak. They reached so high into the firmament that the clouds were sliced apart by their mere touch.

The heavens themselves seemed to shrink back.

Damon felt the world constrict around him from the sheer weight of Seraph Null’s presence. The atmosphere turned thick, making his lungs labor for oxygen while his bones groaned under a crushing, invisible force.

A voice boomed, echoing across the vast expanse of the city.

Lazarak, however, offered no reply.

The only answer was a profound silence.

Throughout the urban sprawl, the population stood paralyzed, their gazes fixed upon the sky. Even the raging fires appeared to go still.

Suddenly, the Chained people dropped to their knees.

They knelt in terrified adoration of their deity even as their surroundings were consumed by fire. Even as he made threats to annihilate the very city where they offered their prayers, they did not waver. Their frames shook with fear, yet their fanaticism remained absolute.

A collective chant rose from the masses—calm, reverent, and utterly mad.

"Hail Seraph Null, the Bound God."

"God of Chains, Warden of the Sky, Lord of the Final Gate."

"Jailer of gods, Sealer of calamity, Master of the Locked World."

Like a dark hymn, the prayer surged through the streets. Their collective faith took physical form, thickening into a divine halo that encircled the celestial prisoner.

"Hail Seraph Null, He Who Forbids."

"God of Containment, Sovereign of the Closed Path, Bearer of the First Lock."

"Warden of Heaven, Gaoler of Eidolon, the One Who Denies All Escapes."

"Hail the Prisoner Who Imprisons All."

"Lord of the Eternal Cage, whose bonds is law."

"God of Confinement, whose judgment is immobility."

"Hail Seraph Null, Keeper of the World’s Sentence."

"Hail the Prison God."

Hail Seraph Null.

Indeed.

Damon stood in the shadow of the Prison God, Seraph Null.

As befitting a divine being, he was beyond the comprehension of any mortal. It was a fundamental weakness of humanity to project their own likeness onto the divine. Every civilization had attempted to carve their gods into familiar shapes, giving them faces that looked like their own.

But true gods were never meant for understanding.

The primordial old gods, who reigned before the ascension of the more humanoid new gods, shared no resemblance with mortals. They were amoral forces of nature, existing entirely outside the concepts of virtue or sin.

Seraph Null was technically a new god, yet he had been forged in the likeness of the ancients. It was perhaps more precise to view lesser gods as old gods softened by a sentimentality the originals lacked.

From his vantage point, Damon could feel it pulsing through the air.

The fury of a god.

How pathetic a mortal appeared when measured against such a being. Even when that anger wasn't focused on him, it pulverized the spirit. This sensation alone confirmed Damon's suspicions.

At the very least, a lesser god possessed the power of a seventh class advancement.

And that was the weakest tier of divinity.

"Lazarak, reveal yourself," Seraph Null commanded once more, his voice sounding like grinding iron. "I know you are lurking here."

Though he couldn't pinpoint Lazarak's location, the god was certain. Lazarak was hiding within the city like a common parasite.

Damon clenched his teeth tightly.

Perched upon the scorched rooftop, he understood the stakes. If he shifted even slightly, Seraph Null would lock onto him.

Yet, he refused to stay hidden.

He was the one who had preached insurrection. He was the one who had urged these people to defy their master. He was the one who had offered them a taste of freedom.

They were terrified. He could sense it in every flickering shadow and every trembling soul below.

Standing amidst the smoke, Damon faced a harsh truth.

He was terrified as well.

A seventh-class entity was not a foe to be challenged on a whim. Such monsters could wipe out entire continents or rewrite the laws of reality with a thought.

Nevertheless, Damon took a step.

The moment he moved, the chains comprising Seraph Null’s form shifted with a thunderous metallic ring. Though kilometers separated them, the god's gargantuan proportions made the distance feel irrelevant.

The clouds were swept aside as the deity turned his gaze toward the roof where Damon stood.

A hissing voice then drifted on the wind.

"Outsider... I see you."

Damon’s limbs went rigid.

The sheer authority in those whispered words bore down on him. His eardrums ruptured, and blood leaked down his neck as the god’s aura attempted to erase his very existence.

"You carry his scent... the scent of the dark..."

Damon set his jaw. He was aware that the eyes of the city were on him. This single moment would determine if they fought for their lives or simply perished.

Reaching over his shoulder, he gripped the spear—the physical embodiment of death.

A single chain detached from Seraph Null’s wing, snaking slowly toward him.

Damon closed his eyes, forcing a steady breath. This wasn't his first encounter with overwhelming might, and he knew it wouldn't be his last.

When his eyes snapped open, spirals of dark shadow swirled around his frame.

He recalled what Evangeline had told the Chained Knights.

"I bow before no false gods."

He thrust his hand into his shadow storage and pulled out the Staff of Carnage.

He leveled it directly at Seraph Null.

A black orb of expulsion was unleashed.

Total devastation followed in an instant.

A titanic shockwave ripped through the city streets. Structures collapsed into dust. The air itself warped and twisted as space buckled under the staff's power.

When the light faded, a crater spanning several kilometers had been gouged into the city's center. A whole district had been wiped off the map in one blow. Despite the earlier evacuations, many lives were snuffed out.

The resulting ruin was absolute.

But Seraph Null remained untouched.

The chain he had sent forward hadn't moved an inch from its path, completely unaffected by the blast.

Instead, it was Damon who was sent reeling, his body tossed across the city by the violent recoil of his own weapon. He smashed through stone walls and debris, yet he refused to let go of his spear or staff.

Seraph Null turned back toward him.

"Futile," the god declared. "You are ignorant of a god's power and the limitations of a man. I shall teach you those limits through your death."

The chains lunged forward with renewed speed.

Then, they were halted.

A set of hands caught them mid-air.

"I am well aware of a god’s power," a young man remarked with eerie calm. "I also understand the potential of mankind. Let me be your teacher instead."

Seraph Null froze. His wings stopped beating, and his voice turned frigid.

"Lazarak, the traitor god. What could a peace-loving failure like you possibly teach me?"

Lazarak’s form began to melt into the dark, shadows slithering over him as he hissed back.

"The limits of a god."