My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 877 - 878: High Prophet

The initial line of defense had crumbled, leaving the apostles preoccupied with their own fierce engagements.

Deep within the tower, he remained seated in a vaulted chamber draped in heavy iron chains. A shimmering projection floated before his eyes, reflecting the chaos outside.

The armored knights under his command were currently pulling back to fortify the secondary line. However, attempting a retreat while under pursuit was proving disastrous. For every warrior who successfully reached the safety of the second perimeter, twenty others were cut down with their backs exposed to the blade.

Withdrawing under fire was among the most grueling maneuvers in warfare, an act that invited ruin without meticulous coordination.

"Their strength exceeds my initial projections," he remarked, his voice echoing with a raspy, frigid edge.

It was a reality he loathed to acknowledge. The lowly, branded subjects he had suppressed for centuries had somehow evolved into a powerful, disciplined force that seemed to swell in numbers by the hour.

He had grown complacent, relying on the presence of Seraph Null. Even Seraph Null, however, had failed to realize that the minor god Lazarak was lending them his divine aid.

In this era, the outcome of war was determined by two factors: superior tactical coordination and the backing of a formidable god.

Since they possessed a god of their own, the playing field was leveled in that regard. Yet, they were not truly a professional army. At best, they were a seasoned, well-armed mob. They lacked the history of fighting as a unified, organized military machine.

There had been no opportunity for them to master complex battlefield maneuvers. Their ranks were disorganized, making them far more proficient at hit-and-run guerrilla strikes than maintaining a steady, disciplined advance on the front lines.

Had they been more disciplined, the second defensive line would have likely been breached already.

He took a slow sip of the beverage resting beside him.

The cohesion of this rabble was maintained solely by their commanders. It was the leaders who provided the strategic direction.

The red-eyed fae woman was clearly a veteran of many campaigns. The horned man with leathery wings, the one who had dispatched the chained Apostle, was also a threat; his abilities were centered heavily on battlefield control.

Several others showed promise as well.

But the true catalyst of this disruption was that black-haired wretch, the one constantly leaping between shadows.

That individual seemed to possess an omniscient perspective of the field, pulling the strings of the entire engagement.

He tapped the armrest of his throne rhythmically before speaking.

"This conflict will not conclude swiftly. My god shall remain locked in combat with theirs for a significant duration. Meanwhile, they will attempt to dig in and secure the ground they have already seized."

He continued to dissect the momentum of the battle.

"They will likely push forward again in a matter of hours, while their morale and supplies are still high."

A distorted, chilling smirk spread across his face, filling the room with a sinister aura.

This was the sovereign of the chained, the one hailed as the High Prophet.

The right hand of god.

.....

Damon observed the progress as they waded through a landscape littered with the fallen, both friend and foe. This was no longer a battle in the open. As they neared the second defensive perimeter, the terrain offered the enemy more places to take cover.

Crucially, the second line was fortified with magical wards and physical barriers. It was a proper defensive stronghold, shielding the defenders behind massive plates and barricades.

"They’re going into a shell. We have to shatter that barrier."

Damon looked back toward the ranks of mages and archers following him.

"Move out. Let’s go."

A female mage, clutching a wooden staff topped with a pulsing jewel, hesitated and tilted her head in confusion.

"Wait, we’re leaving? Shouldn't we capitalize on our momentum and rain spells down on the second line?" she asked, her skin caked in grime and dried blood.

"No," Damon replied, his brow furrowed as he shook his head.

"The structures in this district are far more brittle than modern architecture. We have no cover here. This spot was perfect for an ambush, but it’s a death trap to defend."

He offered no further justification. Trusting his judgment, they nodded and stood ready.

"What’s the next move?" someone shouted.

Damon leaped down from a pile of debris.

"We regroup with the primary force and set up our own defensive perimeter."

He triggered his brand, signaling the others to fall back.

By the time he returned to the ruins of the enemy's first line, Abellona had already ordered the advance to stop.

Damon was struck by how efficiently she had organized the command tents. Without resorting to public executions, he doubted he could have made such a diverse crowd follow orders so precisely. She, however, did it naturally.

It wasn't merely her royal bloodline. She was a seasoned general of war.

He located her inside a captured command post.

She was busy inspecting a soldier whose plate armor was riddled with heavy dents.

When Damon entered, she acknowledged him with nothing more than a sharp nod.

"The barrier they’ve raised is formidable. It appears to be a siege-grade ward, similar to the ones protecting modern metropolises," she remarked quietly.

"A direct assault will be a bloodbath. I could throw the native recruits at it, but I find the thought of discarding soldiers just because they aren't 'ours' revolting."

Her hand tightened into a fist.

Damon leaned back and crossed his arms.

"And yet, the thought crossed your mind. You considered that they might just be figments of this place while we are 'real'."

He let out a short, soft laugh.

"You're far too compassionate. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't think twice about using them as a meat shield."

A small, weary smile touched her lips.

"But you haven’t done that either. You hold just as much authority here as I do. What changed your mind since that night?"

Damon averted his gaze and let out a long breath.

"The only thing that changed is that you ruined my opportunity to write a very dramatic farewell note."

She sighed, choosing not to press the issue.

"I'm assuming you’ve already figured out a way to penetrate that second line," she said.

Damon looked down at the tactical map spread across the central table.

"I have. But even if the barrier falls, we still face magic-reinforced barricades and shields."

Abellona folded her arms, waiting.

"So, you have a strategy."

Damon nodded slowly, his expression turning cold.

"You need to coordinate with Lilith Astranova and Sylvia Moonveil. They need to work alongside Renata Malcrist to dismantle that barrier."

He gestured with his hand.

"Sylvia can pinpoint the structural flaws. Lilith has the means to neutralize sections of the magic, and Renata can drain its overall integrity."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"I see."

Damon continued, "We don't need to take down the entire dome. We just need to tear a hole in one section."

"That isn't what I'm questioning," Abellona countered. "Aren't you and Lilith Astranova close? Why are you asking me to act as the messenger?"

Damon bit his lip, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"Well... I suspect Lilith is currently a bit furious with me."

"I can't imagine why," Abellona said sarcastically, glaring at him with her arms crossed.

He tried to ignore the fading sounds of skirmishes outside as he bit his lip again.

He finally sighed.

"Because she discovered I was intending to... well, you know."

"Commit suicide," Abellona finished bluntly.

She let out a dismissive huff.

"You'd better deal with that yourself. I'm staying out of your personal drama."

Damon shook his head in defeat.

"Fine. I'll speak with Lilith. But first, let me tell you where you're needed. Task Xander and Emilia Highgon with the ground breach."

He noticed the faint bruising and redness on her neck.

"Xander is a powerhouse—the best tank we have. If he leads the charge, we can keep the body count low. He’s hard to kill."

She kept her arms crossed.

"Let me guess. You want me to spearhead an aerial strike the moment that barrier cracks."

He gave a silent nod.

She rubbed her temples, exhaling deeply.

"I never envisioned a day where I'd be fighting alongside demons. Fate certainly has a twisted sense of humor. Very well."

Damon nodded and turned to depart.

Now came the hard part: finding Lilith Astranova.

He extended his shadow perception across the camp. After a few minutes, he located her inside a medical tent, assisting an injured soldier while Sylvia provided healing magic.

He teleported to the entrance and waited for them to finish. As he stood there, he watched the sky, where the divine clash between Seraph Null and Lazarak continued to shake the heavens.

Both deities were careful to avoid the main battlefield. If either intervened directly, the resulting fallout would annihilate everyone below.

Even so, the stray feathers drifting down from Seraph Null caused catastrophic explosions wherever they landed.

The tent flap shifted, and Lilith emerged, carrying a basin of water filled with blood-soaked cloths.

Despite the heavy scent of iron in the air, the faint fragrance of gardenia still lingered around her.

When she spotted Damon, she froze for a heartbeat before walking straight past him, her face a mask of indifference.

Damon sighed and began to follow her.

She remained silent, forcing him to speak first.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me?"

She shook her head without looking back.

"I'm not ignoring you. You simply haven't said anything. I assumed whatever reason you had for being here wasn't worth mentioning."

Damon winced, feeling the awkwardness. She wasn't wrong.

"So... you're definitely mad at me, aren't you?"

She came to a halt, her eyes turning cold as she looked at him.

"Why would I be mad? It's your life. I have no right to tell you how to throw it away."

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Look... I just wanted to ask if you could..."

"I'll do it," she interrupted before he could finish the request.

"I haven't even explained what I need yet."

She paused, her head dropping slightly.

"You didn't have to."

She turned fully to face him.

"I'll help break the barrier. That's what you came for, isn't it?"