My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 876 - 877: First Line

A single truth became clear to Damon. Any attempt to reach the Black Tower while the enemy maintained their tactical edge would result in a futile defeat for everyone.

While he possessed a theory on how to terminate this nightmare—two theories, in fact—he placed his bets on the first. The second option was a grim possibility he hoped to never explore.

But before any of that mattered, the enemy had to be crushed.

Memories of chess matches against his grandfather back in Lumos surfaced in Damon's mind. The old Grand Duke had emerged victorious in every single game they played. No matter how fierce a struggle Damon put up, he was always bested on the board.

Damon had once protested during a loss, claiming that a real battlefield was nothing like chess because it was impossible to manage every variable and situation. In war, there were no fixed rules to follow.

Furthermore, a commander lacked a bird’s-eye view of the carnage and could not perfectly dictate the movements of every soldier.

His grandfather had conceded that point, only to offer a sharp rebuttal.

"But this is chess."

Since they weren't in a literal war zone, why was Damon trying to use battlefield logic on the game board?

Now, however, the situation was reversed. This was a true battlefield.

And Damon possessed the very advantages he once lacked.

His forces were arguably weaker, outnumbered, and lacked intelligence, but he had the means to change that.

From his position, Damon extended his shadow perception. His consciousness surged for kilometers, shadows slithering through alleyways, scaling rooftops, and infiltrating the skeletons of ruined structures.

The inability to coordinate with his troops remained the only obstacle.

That was until he remembered the brand of Lazarak marked upon each of them; a mark through which he could transmit his voice.

It was time for Damon to seize the reins.

He projected his voice through the brands, bypassing his natural charm to speak directly through the magical mark.

"I am Damon Grey, and I am addressing you through the brands on your skin. I am taking temporary command to lead our push toward the Black Tower."

To ensure his authority was recognized, he chose to align himself with the leadership of the Demon Heirs and Abellona.

"Third Princess Abellona and Bakemon Baal will be supporting my command."

Though their army was a patchwork of factions, the core consisted of demons and the goddess races. In this moment, they fought as allies for the sake of survival.

"Our objective is the Black Tower. To reach it, we must shatter their defensive perimeter."

Moving toward a heap of rubble, Damon pulled a wounded member of the goddess races to safety. The soldier, bleeding from the impact of Seraph Null's falling feathers, was already being tended to by a Demon Heir.

"Long-range casters in the western district, take the high ground on the buildings and await my signal. There is a concealed stash of potions from our original supply line nearby. Secure them immediately."

Damon barked orders while simultaneously tracking the flow of battle through his shadows.

"Tanks and healers, follow the mages. Utilize the healing-grade supplies to establish a field hospital for the wounded."

He then issued a different set of instructions.

"All archers and mages in the eastern district, rendezvous with me at the oasis. Everyone else, continue the push toward the Black Tower."

Next, Damon established contact with Bakemon Baal, who led the Demon Heirs.

"I need the demons to coordinate with the fae, fairies, and all winged units to organize an aerial strike. Can you pull them together for my signal?"

Bakemon replied with a composed tone.

"I can manage that. As the son of the Lord of Order, I find this quite ironic. To think the day would come when noble demons fight alongside the goddess races."

Damon let out a dry, unsurprised scoff.

"Haven’t you noticed? This is just the start of the world’s end. The era is shifting, Bakemon. You either adapt or get trampled by the change."

Elsewhere on the field, the severed head of a chained Apostle dangled from a length of metal. Nearby, Bakemon stood covered in his own blood, yet he wore a grin after felling such a foe.

"Indeed, the world is shifting."

His eyes drifted to the fallen youths of the goddess races who had perished at his side.

"The world has lost its mind, and there is no place in it for the sane. We have no choice but to embrace the madness."

....

Damon arrived at the oasis.

What was once a scenic marvel of flowing canals and lush trees amidst the desert city was now a gruesome scene of blood-stained water and drifting corpses.

The archers and mages were already waiting upon his arrival.

Damon gestured toward a towering structure.

"Get to that roof!"

He reached the top in a single bound, with the others following suit and spreading out across the rooftops.

"Prepare yourselves. Your target is in that direction."

He pointed toward the cluster of buildings that shielded the enemy’s defensive line.

Giving no room for hesitation, he used his brand to contact the other mage unit.

"Mages, use your spells to flatten the buildings in the eastern sector blocking our path to the Black Tower. Fire on my command."

Through his shadow perception, he could feel the air warping as mana gathered for their spells.

Damon gripped the shoulder of the nearest mage.

"The moment those structures fall, the enemy line will be exposed. Fire your volley before they have a chance to raise their shields."

"Ready!" he bellowed over the chaotic noise as the soldiers locked into their stances.

He then signaled the western unit.

Orbs of destructive power streaked through the sky, crashing into the buildings and reducing them to dust. Before the dust could even settle, Damon's hand cut through the air.

The chained knights turned toward the rubble, expecting a frontal assault.

Instead, a rain of multicolored lethality descended from behind them.

Hundreds of spells were unleashed simultaneously, screaming toward the now-exposed defensive line. The cover they relied on had vanished.

A chained knight's shield slipped from his hand, his expression one of absolute terror.

"By the gods..." he whispered just as the explosive death reached them.

At the vanguard, Abellona thrust her spear high.

"Charge!" she roared, and hundreds of warriors answered with a thunderous cry, surging forward.

The first line of defense had been shattered.