My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 934 - 935: Overwhelming But Defeated

The Graveyard of Gods, according to Damon's knowledge, stood as a deadly forbidden area on the demon continent, brimming with endless ancient remains—some pulsing with vitality beyond death itself—while the truly lifeless ones poisoned the land and everything nearby with their enduring, malevolent aura.

Should the Evil Forest qualify as a perilous death trap, the Graveyard of Gods would reign as the supreme origin of all such horrors. Whispers claimed that even warriors at the seventh class advancement risked annihilation within its bounds.

Compared to other death zones, nothing like Lysithara could rival its terror.

Damon squinted his gaze. Seras grinned, letting out a gentle laugh.

"Ahh, so you don't know it all. That's refreshing. I was starting to believe you held every secret."

He sensed her playful jab, particularly after the clash with the lich Amadeus.

"Hmph." He snorted, folding his arms across his chest.

"I grasp only what I've learned. Existence is an endless path. We must push to gain more wisdom, since admitting our gaps in knowledge alone allows the real pursuit of truth. The ultimate folly lies in rejecting one's own blindness."

Seras found herself at a loss for words. She arched a brow.

"Wait, did you just recite from the Book of Athor?"

Damon blinked, shutting his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"What on earth are you on about?" he shot back evenly.

"Don't tell me you forgot I studied at Aether Academy as well. That's straight from the Book of Athor. Oh, you're utterly brazen... If I weren't aware, I'd swear you were spouting deep insights."

Damon dismissed her remark with a scoff.

"Did the message strike you or not? Who cares if it's not your own."

Seras let out a sigh, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Alright. You got me."

She settled onto the pale bone surface and rested against a massive bone shard. It likely belonged to the spine of some colossal beast from ages past.

"The temple gathered various accounts during its early days, and as you're aware, they endured countless trials to rise as a dominant world power. Still, we're not delving into their past here."

Seras folded her legs into a lotus pose.

"You're familiar with the wicked prophet, aren't you? Tales speak of him battling mysterious and horrifying foes during a forgotten war. Once the conflict concluded, the remnants formed a wasteland of primordial bodies, their savage spirits refusing to dissipate even after demise." She hesitated, then murmured, "Thus, the god grave emerged."

Damon eyed the enormous skull enclosing them and the profound, shadowy voids within. He pondered briefly, questioning whether his shadow might consume this carcass. On impulse, he peered at his shadow, which began subtly shaking in denial.

Though these entities lay deceased, a fragment of their essence persisted in animation, a ravenous urge to persist. Devouring them would grant success, without question, yet it would burden him with an unwelcome legacy, potentially leading to his own undoing.

At that realization, a sudden idea struck him.

The Lost—a lineage of beings across the demon continent capable of snatching shadows.

Had they originated within the Graveyard of Gods?

Damon swiftly summoned his system interface and scanned the abilities section.

[Skill: Shadow Control]

[Description:]

"The lost swarm everywhere, their spirits starved as they pilfer shadows, substituting their hollow shells with the stolen vitalities of victims. Individuals stripped of shadows transform into their kind—adrift, nomadic, eternally pursuing the taken essence. In the void they leave, those reclaimed shadows yield to your authority, molded by intent, elusive and formless, as if destined to remain unseen."

[Effect:]

The wielder gains dominion over ethereal shadows—unattached to any body—commanding them through sheer determination and core energy. Shadows without owners now submit to your rule, forming a power entirely at your disposal.

[Type:]

Active.

[Cooldown:]

10 seconds.

Seras remained oblivious to his inspection. She pressed on without pause.

"That primordial clash spanned the ocean straight from the demon continent, traversing the waves and forever altering them, until it halted along the coasts of the war continent. In this way, the Bone Hallows took shape."

Damon gave a nod. The scale eluded his imagination—a warzone extending from the demon continent, bridging the sea, and invading Soltheon. What toll in lives? What monstrosities clashed? How monstrous must those invaders have been to unleash such devastation?

He had witnessed personally how invaders reduced Lysithara to devastation. Take Ythar, the outsider whose remains birthed a thick mist that evolved into the Whispering Forest.

Or Ittorath, bound within a dimensional tear using the twin moons as anchors, resulting in only one moon gracing Lysithara's skies.

This oppressive, fatal atmosphere in the Bone Hallows drove home a grim reality to Damon. The outsiders proved far deadlier than he had ever acknowledged—infinitely more devious, vastly more insightful.

'How can I possibly vanquish beings of this caliber?'

Seras rested a hand upon his shoulder.

"Rest up a bit. We depart in a few hours."

Damon inclined his head gradually, yet he couldn't resist inquiring,

"How do we even start battling horrors like these?" he whispered.

Seras halted. Silence hung for a beat, then a smile curved her lips.

"I wrestled with that very notion... back when I was just a child... only for me, it wasn't cosmic horrors, though in hindsight, they loomed that way..."

Damon shot her a brief look. Seras's smile held a faraway gleam in her eyes.

"As a little girl, I confronted a figure at the first class advancement..."

"Hmm, but that's feeble..." Damon interjected.

She dipped her head affirmatively. The first class paled in strength. It marked merely the initial stride on a protracted road to might. These days, she could dispatch a first class foe with a mere flick or the pressure of her presence.

"They seem trivial to you, standing at the fourth class advancement. Likely no more than specks beneath the soil."

Her palm pressed against her heart.

"To me as a kid, that foe towered above the skies. They shattered barriers, dashed at unbelievable velocities... I had zero shot. Merely an unawakened youth."

A subtle spark lit her gaze.

"I was convinced death awaited, with no savior in sight. So I did the sole option left—I battled fiercely, scarred and worn, clinging to survival by a hair. Amid my desperate struggle, I grasped that victory was mine. I had accomplished the impossible."

Damon absorbed her tale in silence. He knew this story. It formed the spark of her saga, the infant who felled a first class adversary while still fresh from her cradle.

"Sure, that's a pushover. But these are transcendent existences..." he countered, dismantling her point.

Overcoming a single insect changed little. That adversary meant nothing. He scarcely merited a whisper in the margins of her epic.

"Really? I see it as identical." Seras beamed, her face tranquil. He had never witnessed such softness in her grin. Her eyes, typically ablaze with combat fury, now flowed with peace. In them, he caught his reflection, etched with uncertainty.

"I viewed that foe as invincible, yet they weren't. Mere trifles against true might. Now that I wield power, they rank below insects... perhaps they appeared mighty because I lacked strength. They loomed eternal, but they didn't. These beasts follow the same pattern. They transcend nothing. To one surpassing them in force, they're forgettable voids, unworthy of recall."

Her stare remained fixed on him.

"I refuse to cower before any seeming colossus or superior force. If needed, I'll clash. And in clashing, triumph is assured. For I am Seras Blade, and no titans daunt me."

Her declaration and poise stirred Damon deeply. She spoke truth. These outsiders loomed immense and formidable, yet who lay slain here? They did. Who survived as echoes of history? They warred against the wicked prophet and fell. Why dread vanquished foes? In his realm, they towered, but amid the cosmos, they dwindled to irrelevance—mere tools in some enigmatic deity's designs. They held no sway. Barely participants.

"I erred," Damon reflected, watching Seras's silhouette recede as she departed.

"I overlooked a vital lesson after Ittorath's ambush."

It proved crucial.

"These foes aren't unbreakable. They fell to a native of my realm. They pale beside Ashcroft, whom I've already bested."

"I'm not cornered in this reality alongside them. They're the ones ensnared with me."

"I remain capable of handling this. I can still ensnare even the unknown god."

To achieve it, he required just one element.

Lazarak's Lake of Tears.