My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 909 - 910: War Cry

By now, devising ways to take down a creature or enemy had turned into second nature for him.

Damon figured some terrible fate would befall him the instant he stepped into the evil forest, yet this beast was now zeroing in on his whole expedition group.

They hadn't even arrived at the battlefield, and already their ranks were thinning out from an unseen assailant.

This marked the seventh formation shift they'd made over just two days.

Still, the pursuer had claimed ten members without any success in stopping it. The thing moved with blinding speed, always picking off the vulnerable ones.

It hadn't slain a single soul so far, merely afflicting them with a curse that crippled their mobility and forced heavy use of healing potions to keep them going.

How blatant could the choice be? Leaving them to perish to save on potions would shatter the group's spirits to rock bottom.

Even so, Seras hadn't decided on a course yet. She simply pressed them onward without alteration.

Damon urged his mount, the nocturnal stag, closer to Seras, keeping his tone hushed for her ears alone.

"Do you have a plan?" he inquired, hoping to confirm that the expedition's commander at least had some strategy in mind.

"Whoa, why should I share that with you? For all I know, the true Damon might be gone, and you're the pursuer in disguise."

Damon let out a scornful huff.

"Nice to see you're up for jokes. At least your neck isn't on the line. Even if the whole group perishes, you'll pull through."

Seras grinned, cocking her head to the side.

"True enough. I'm at the peak of sixth-class advancement, on the verge of seventh class."

Her hand rested thoughtfully on her chin.

"Regarding a plan, I haven't devised one yet. Feel free to suggest something if it strikes you."

Damon shut his eyes while the stag let out a gentle snort, sunlight's rays barely piercing the silver-leaved ceiling of towering old trees.

"Alright, then assist me in drawing it out."

Seras denied the request with a shake of her head.

"No point in that. It's been observing us from the treetops for the last three hours."

Damon halted, chills racing up his spine as he scanned the branches, extending his shadow sense even wider.

"Cut that out. I'm not sure if that's magic sense or the like, but I'd advise against it in your position."

Damon dismissed it with a head shake.

"I don't possess magic sense. That only comes at fifth class, doesn't it?"

"Actually, peak of fourth class. But that's beside the point. Have you forgotten our location?" Seras replied casually, as though her warning hadn't just spared his life.

Damon clenched his jaw.

Of course, what had gotten into him? This area brimmed with peril. Since Seras detected his perceptual probe, the forest surely harbored beasts that could sense and counter his shadow awareness. He'd encountered such threats before in the Whispering Forest.

"Don't beat yourself up. It's dubbed a stalker for good reason," Seras murmured, tweaking the position of her sword.

Damon ground his teeth.

"If I draw it into the open, will you attempt to finish it off?"

She refused again with a head shake.

"That won't cut it. We lack any weapon capable of slaying it here."

Damon acknowledged with a nod, lifting his hand.

"Yeah, I get it. Just give it a shot. I need to test something. I want a close look to spot a vulnerability."

Seras kept her stag moving steadily. Her expression stayed composed, a faint smirk curving her mouth.

"If you're aiming to wow me with your courage, consider me wowed. I suspect your scheme is straightforward, foolish, and liable to go horribly wrong."

Damon laughed lightly, even as perspiration trickled down his forehead and a chill gripped his spine.

"How'd you guess?"

She shot him a look, a subtle spark in her gaze.

"You've got that look of a bold fool."

Damon drew in a steadying breath. This seemed like his sole option. If it backfired as terribly as he feared, death awaited. Every fiber of his being screamed against it. The curse lodged in his heart urged him to abandon the notion.

Strangely, that very curse also warned that failing to confront and eliminate this stalker meant certain doom.

Damon drew his pair of twin swords, artifacts from the Halls of Steel. They'd attempted to reclaim them, but Damon refused, and following discussions between the halls' elder and his grandfather, a quiet arrangement was struck.

"I'll scout ahead," Damon announced clearly, and his stag pushed forward, crushing through the underbrush and trunks of the woodland, smashing hazardous plants underfoot.

Renata hadn't caught wind of his scheme. She lifted her arm.

"Hold on, don't break away from us."

She moved to pursue with a handful of House Brightwater knights, but Damon signaled to stop.

"Stay back. That's a direct order."

His words rang out as he vanished amid the foliage.

Damon couldn't tell if it trailed him, but he had to gamble on it. He doubted he'd fare well in a one-on-one clash.

He covered roughly three kilometers amid the trees when his danger instinct flared, sending tingles across his scalp.

Damon reined in his stag, finding himself in a modest clearing within the woods. Lush greenery sprouted a few meters above the dark earth, shrouding the ground. The surrounding trees offered perfect cover for an attack.

The nocturnal stag grew restless, as though desperate to bolt from the spot. Its hooves pawed the dirt repeatedly.

'If this turns sour, I'm done for.'

He pushed the thought aside. Being cursed to cling to life didn't render him spineless.

'Things can't get much grimmer than they are.'

Not even Deathless could heap more onto him. He'd endured until now. He refused to fall.

He squeezed his eyes shut to sharpen his other senses. Then came the faint stir in the brush, and he whirled with a burst of magical force in a sweeping cut, but emptiness greeted him.

As Damon glanced sideways, a jagged spike of twisted dark wood pierced his flank. He leaped from the stag just as the beast slammed into a trunk, its form bursting apart on collision, gore and entrails spraying through the air to splatter the foliage like a gruesome shower.

It perished without a sound.

Damon spared no glance its way while shadowy power coursed through him, though his curse resistance held it at bay. He loosed a surge of dark fire toward the source before even identifying it.

In the blaze's rush, he closed the gap and brought his blade crashing down on the entity. It parried effortlessly, the impact like striking an unyielding wall.

He peered at what should have been its visage, finding none. It resembled a tree—no, not quite. More like a treant, but off. Its surface mimicked polished bark riddled with fissures, yet pulsed with meaty undertones.

He made contact, yet somehow didn't. It loomed beside him, but an vast, ethereal divide separated them, wider than mere distance. It dwelled in a parallel layer of existence, untouchable—like a flat sketch on paper unable to grasp a solid form in full dimension.

Damon, bound to three dimensions, grappled with something from a mismatched quantum realm.

"Hope you're fond of fire."

He poured forth a raging inferno as his shadow reserves waned, the protective veil in his heart—forged from shadow power—straining against the clashing forces within.

The blaze pierced its isolating veil, whatever it was, but lacked the strength to destroy. Damon shoved away.

All this unfolded in one fleeting second, and precisely then, Seras materialized before him.

Yet upon spotting her, his warning instincts blared fiercer. She lunged her sword at the stalker, but Damon sensed the peril aimed at him.

He dissolved into shadow an instant before the edge struck. He hurled one silver sword at her—or whatever she was.

And the weapon sailed harmlessly through.

"Tsk," Damon muttered in frustration. No surprise; that wasn't Seras. It was the creature itself. Two of them existed. It clicked now. This type couldn't shift unless watched. The solution? Observation pinned it. But it couldn't watch itself. Simpler still: a pair could watch one another, granting free movement.

Damon eyed its blade, a replica of Seras's unadorned tachi, thrusting at his throat.

"Damn it."

He was doomed as the edge tore toward his neck.

A tachi arced down at it.

"Not bad," Seras's voice emerged from beside him.

"My hunch was spot on. Two of you after all."

Damon's gaze bulged at her icy, lifeless stare. She hoisted her sword, yanking him nearer.

"War cry."

That rang as the final noise Damon registered. What came next was a thunderous roar that rattled the essence of his being.