My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 917 - 918: Hungry Soil

The assault happened swiftly, brutally, and astonishingly, leaving the whole expedition team helpless as they watched the enormous stag and its rider get pulled toward what seemed like inevitable doom.

A number of knights fidgeted in their seats, their hands automatically grabbing for the reins and their swords.

Right when they prepared to charge ahead and rescue him, a dark shadow slithered across the earth like slick oil and leaped onto Renata’s stag. The atmosphere wavered, and Damon appeared on top of it, his complexion ashen and strained.

"Phew. That was a close one. I almost died."

Renata went rigid, her grip clenching harder on the reins while a damp splatter hit the dirt next to her.

Blood.

Damon wobbled a bit in the saddle. Odd black roots twisted out from under his armor, stabbing through ripped metal and skin without mercy. His features bore slashes, fine lines carving down his cheek and jaw, with blood flowing unchecked. That explained his pallor.

He drew in a sharp breath between his teeth and retrieved a vial of healing potion. Using his other hand, he seized one of the black roots and yanked it out. Chunks of flesh tore away with it. Without pause, he extracted another, then yet another, as pieces of his own skin and muscle stripped off, dark sap resembling ichor spilling onto the woodland ground.

Even the battle-hardened veterans from endless fights gaped in astonishment. Some gulped audibly. The ones loyal to House Brightwater shook off their shock and hurried toward him.

"My lord, are you okay?" a ashen-faced healer inquired, moving nearer without delay. Her blue eyes gleamed keenly despite the shadowy forest glow. Silver strands escaped from under her helmet, which she clutched in one arm while lifting the other.

She started to channel healing magic, a soft glow forming around her palm.

Damon raised a hand smeared in blood and shook his head.

"It is fine. I can heal my body much faster than you can."

He swallowed the potion in a single fluid gulp.

He spoke the truth. The potion itself held little importance. It was merely a basic one.

Following his near-death plunge into that pool in the Holy City, Damon had acquired divine energy. From that point, his body gained a regenerative ability. That very ability had preserved his life.

As he got dragged under, the initial two seconds brought utter disbelief. For a cultivator of his caliber, two seconds marked the divide between life and demise. The creature below had skewered him, yet his body had already started mending. The agony snapped him from his daze long enough to wrench free and vanish into the shadows.

"We need to keep moving," Seras commanded, her words slicing sharply through the whispers. She urged her stag onward without pause.

The captain of the knights Damon had hired sat taller in his saddle and lifted his hand.

"Knights of the Rising Sun. Change formation. Protect His Excellency with your lives."

That was Silas, or so Damon believed his name to be.

The knights rearranged at once, closing ranks around him, their shields tilted outward, gazes sweeping the surrounding trees.

"Erhm. You really do not need to do that," Damon grumbled, smearing the blood from his chin using the back of his hand.

Yet another stag drew near from behind at a steady trot. Kael was astride it, a scroll secured under one arm, with various expedition specialists riding alongside.

"You should be more careful," the youthful-appearing scholar remarked, his eyebrows furrowed in clear annoyance. He steered his stag nearer but maintained a wary gap from the ravenous earth.

"You realize if you die here, these brave men and women will be executed upon their return."

His voice grew firmer.

"You are a noble. If you fall first and your knights live, it will be treated as treason. Even if they are innocent."

A knight must perish before his lord.

Damon looked over the compact ring of protected figures.

He got it now.

For them, the mission ranked below safeguarding Damon.

He breathed out gradually and directed his eyes at the silver-haired healer.

"What is your name again?"

She stood straighter instantly.

"I am Lana Summer of the Fourth Radiant Regiment."

Damon examined her shortly, then gave a nod.

He couldn’t learn every name among them. He hadn’t bothered at the start because it hadn’t mattered to him.

The deeper motive was harsher.

He avoided forming bonds.

The previous person he’d bonded with had perished, and he’d been unable to prevent it.

As a boy, Back to Back had advised him that ignoring someone’s name makes their death feel distant. They blend into the masses.

Ironically, Back to Back wasn’t his true name.

Still, ending him had stung. More than Damon anticipated, even with his deep resentment toward that haughty elf.

"I will remember that," Damon murmured softly.

Renata’s stag pressed ahead once more, its hooves sinking into the yielding soil.

The guideline was straightforward. The more time spent stationary, the greater the earth’s hunger grew.

Thus, they pressed on. Methodically, cautiously, without halting.

Damon stayed vigilant, his posture rigid even as his injuries ebbed. This marked just the start. Miles of tainted land stretched before them, followed by even more blighted areas.

The woods deepened in shadow as they progressed. The trees loomed taller, their limbs strangling the scant sunlight that trickled through. Amid the boles, Damon spotted hints of motion.

Eerie specters.

Whenever he zeroed in on one, whipping his head to view it clearly, it faded away like mist.

Every form moved with blinding speed.

"What are those?" Lana breathed, her hold on her staff growing firmer.

Damon’s gaze sharpened, following a quick dart to the left until it disappeared.

"Evil forest jinn. Or one variation of them. They come in many forms. These ones are observing. Waiting."

Lana’s mount matched their speed, her armor snagging fleeting beams that broke through the overhead leaves.

"Waiting for what?" she pressed, spotting another dark blur in her peripheral sight.

Renata’s stag lurched abruptly.

It crumpled to its knees with a solid crash, air bursting from its chest in harsh gasps. Its flanks rose and fell wildly, as though exhausted from endless sprinting.

Damon leaped down immediately, his boots embedding a touch into the yielding dirt. He supported Renata during her descent.

A moment afterward, Lana’s stag faltered too, its limbs quaking before it toppled into the voracious soil.

Lana tumbled clear with trained grace and rose to one knee, her staff aloft, radiance building at its end.

Damon advanced and seized her wrist to halt the spell.

"Waiting for us to get tired and weak."

The earth throbbed.

Dark roots extended like pulsing veins under the surface, then erupted skyward, coiling around the downed stags. The beasts thrashed feebly, then stilled as the woodland ground sapped their essence.

Damon avoided glancing behind.

He pushed ahead, shoving his boots against the unyielding terrain.

"Keep moving," he stated, his tone steady and icy. "Unless you want to join them."