My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 916 - 917: Rivalries

Those phrases served as the core inspirations shaping Damon's beliefs and very existence. They were the very chains that linked him to the Unknown God.

Damon had always understood that the inscriptions he discovered etched into the stone beneath the ancient tree's roots must have come from some author's hand.

The burning question in Damon's mind lingered: Was it destiny at play, mere coincidence, or the subtle schemes of the Unknown God?

Damon's thoughts swirled around the harsh truth that free will might be nothing but a facade, and the Unknown God reigned as a deity of unyielding fate. Every event, even the notion of personal choice, bowed to fate's inexorable pull.

Amadeus fell silent after that. He had revealed everything essential. This was the extent of what he could share regarding Mugu's origins, including his transformation into the Wicked Prophet and the inaugural demon.

"Mugu tempted the world and Lysithara, all in pursuit of attaining Akasha."

Amadeus knew no further details. He had departed from Lysithara right when the outsiders began to emerge. Eager to expand his own limits and match Mugu's growth, he ventured out during that era, imparting summoning secrets and aiding in the call of outsiders throughout the realm.

That choice proved disastrous, for once sufficient numbers arrived and claimed physical forms, their sinister nature burst forth unmasked.

The ties between them and the outsiders were intricate. These beings ranked higher in the cosmic order, yet they weren't unified. Outsiders came in diverse forms. Certain ones appeared utterly foreign and distorted. Others radiated a holy aura. Some exuded demonic vibes. A few bore bizarre relics and wore outlandish attire.

Infighting plagued them, with rivalries predating their arrival here.

Yet one goal united them all, the singular purpose they shared.

"Back then, I had no clue what that purpose entailed," Amadeus confided to Damon one final time, rising from his throne of bone as it dissolved into nothingness.

"Above everything, their arrogance sticks in my memory. They scorned all beings and objects save for Mugu. For some unexplained reason, he escaped their full contempt. It was as though they regarded him as a peer. And why wouldn't they? He was, after all, the Prophet of the Unknown God."

Seras and Damon exchanged a quick look as the lich retreated into the shadowy tree canopy. With every stride, his form grew fainter, betraying his weary, exhausted state.

His words resonated across the cursed woodland.

"The insights you've imparted intrigue me. I hope our paths never cross again."

Upon the table, he abandoned the box meant for Damon, alongside scattered sheets of parchment.

Damon seized the box, examining it closely as his mind brimmed with reflections on Mugu.

"I can't help but wonder about the kind of life he led."

The instant those words escaped him, voicing his unspoken desire, the box responded. It crumbled apart, dissolved into dark powder, then melted into a marking inked upon Damon's wrist.

The speed of the transformation left him stunned.

"Ah, damn it. That's not the wish I meant to make."

He grasped that it wasn't some enchanted boon. Otherwise, Amadeus would have claimed it for boundless wisdom. He could have even grasped Akasha.

The ultimate mastery over every form of magic.

Seras scanned the parchments left behind.

"It's a chart of the terrain plus a basic summary of the threats and beasts lurking nearby."

Renata assisted in turning more pages. Her expression drained of color.

"This won't simplify our trek. It just highlights how real our chances of perishing are."

Damon's attention sharpened at the mention of death. He shifted his focus from the tiny emblem on his wrist, which remained inert regardless.

His eyes swept over the towering trees surrounding them.

"Then we should press on without delay."

Seras gave a measured nod, fully aware of the perils awaiting them.

"I'll distribute this to folks suited for such tasks. It'll aid our scouts too, though I may halt additional reconnaissance. It's wiser to maintain the full expedition group intact."

He returned the nod thoughtfully. Her logic held firm. Seras brought real expertise to these matters. If survival through the evil forest was possible for any expedition, she'd be the one to lead it.

After thirty minutes, preparations were complete for departure.

Each rider mounted a nocturnal stag, with Damon assigned a fresh one. The group still reeled from the lich encounter but felt relief at avoiding combat with it.

He sensed their respectful gazes and caught their murmurs, hailing him as a scholar of great depth.

Damon welcomed the acclaim, provided they guarded the revelations in strict confidence.

Regarding the stipulation woven into the oath scroll.

If the oath-bound individual plotted to disclose the hidden truths, their heart would rupture and their soul would perish—contingent on retaining any recollections or notes from that day's occurrences.

The escape clause was straightforward: Perish or wipe away memories of the day.

Damon arrived first at the Hungry Ground. It appeared as a shadowy expanse of earth, indistinguishable from the surrounding woods, though peculiar black roots protruded skyward from the trees. The forest's abundance of odd flora made them easy to overlook.

Such terrain could prove fatal for the frail, but for those at third class or higher, it posed mere annoyance. Minor wounds, irritations, or visions varied by type. In dire instances, sudden demise.

Vigilance was essential in realms like this.

With Deathless scheming against him and no incidents yet, Damon proceeded with caution.

Seras drew alongside, her nocturnal stag surging ahead. The moment its hoof met the soil, the ground quivered like a viscous fluid akin to water.

The soil gleamed inky black and yielded softly, much like sodden cinders.

Damon dismounted and probed the earth. His prints plunged unusually deep. The surface pulsed with a warmth reminiscent of vital tissue. He pondered whether a slice would draw blood.

Damon drew in a steadying breath. It felt secure enough, as secure as the evil forest allowed, so he remounted and trailed the precise route of the others.

After merely three paces into the zone, both the stag and Damon plunged beneath the soil's surface.