My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 951 - 952: He Has Come

The cultivator let out a sigh.

His fingers started to shift gradually before him, silently figuring out some matters. Unseen designs flowed through the atmosphere, as though he was tallying strands visible only to his gaze.

His motions abruptly halted.

A profound crease appeared on his brow.

Without delay, he rose to his feet.

The action seemed straightforward.

Nevertheless, it stirred the whole prison into motion.

All eyes fixed upon him.

Even the timeless horrors, who had quietly occupied themselves for countless ages, gradually directed their attention toward him.

From the First Epoch, when they were initially confined here almost two to three hundred thousand years prior, this marked the initial instance the cultivator had emerged from his seated lotus posture.

That single motion appeared out of place.

He lifted his hands serenely and pressed them together in a courteous salute.

"Fellow daoists," he stated courteously, "this Zhang regrets interrupting your peace. Yet, matters among us have shifted."

His gaze scanned the assembled captives.

"Over numerous years, this Zhang has caught a hint of celestial mysteries."

A subtle wave coursed through the prison.

Sensing heavenly secrets held little astonishment in this realm. Each being locked away here wielded strength surpassing the seventh level of progression. They were elevated existences able to grasp the strands of destiny.

However...

"That’s impossible."

The words emerged from a gravelly elder clad in decaying crimson garments. His flesh appeared afflicted and pallid, his form more akin to an ambulatory cadaver than a vital entity.

A practitioner of demonic arts.

Naturally, he led the charge against a follower of the orthodox way.

"All are aware the barrier blocks such actions."

The orthodox cultivator paid him no mind.

Rather, he turned composedly to the other confined terrors.

"Fellow daoists," he declared. "Verify it for yourselves."

His tone stayed even.

"Observe whether the skies continue to withhold their voice."

Quiet descended.

Gradually, the primordial entities employed their unique techniques to explore destiny. Concealed forces extended into the emptiness as they sought the filaments of fortune, examining the hidden flows that shaped all being.

Time elapsed.

Then an entity erupted into sudden mirth.

"Hahaha!"

"The seal!"

"The seal has weakened to the point where we sense destiny!"

Thrilled whispers propagated through the prison.

"Thus, the moment arrives," a deliberate voice intoned. "The might Mugu poured into the Unknown God’s dominion, the Boundary Maker, at last diminishes."

"The barrier that held us captive for endless durations shall ultimately shatter."

A hoarse tone sliced through the mounting fervor.

"I wouldn’t hold excessive hope if I were in your place."

All gazes shifted to the one who spoke.

It was the aged sorcerer.

Orbitus reclined idly upon a drifting boulder, his cap slanted across his vision while he drank tranquilly from his vessel.

"We remain unable to shatter it on our own."

He struck his rod gently against the rock.

"Not until another era passes at minimum."

For an instant, the prison grew still once more.

Then chuckles resounded from the obscurity.

"Hahhahha..."

The noise was damp.

Twisted.

Something stirred within the gloom.

It glided ahead like a surge composed of myriad squirming larvae. The cluster contorted and wound until assuming a form loosely akin to a beast.

It evoked visions of dread.

And that is precisely its nature.

A Nightmare.

It came to a halt in front of the clustered inmates.

"Ittorath has broken free," it proclaimed.

The sound resembled myriad murmurs overlapping simultaneously.

"He pursues a path to liberate his genuine form."

The nightmare undulated, its bulk quivering.

"And he delivers joyful news to us."

Hush ensued.

Each primordial terror methodically faced the nightmare.

Their countenances shed their prior annoyance.

They grew serene.

Scheming.

Morticai’s aureate fires softened a touch as his gaze tightened.

"Is that so..."

At last, an escape route might emerge.

And alongside it, devastation for the realm overhead.

"And what does Ittorath demand as payment?"

Orbitus posed the inquiry offhandedly, yet his stare had intensified under his hat’s brim. He gradually set down his goblet and placed both palms upon the gnarled timber staff resting over his knees.

A horror such as Ittorath would never act without compensation.

Never.

Though it seemed these beings united under the Outsiders’ standard from the Upper Realm, harmony among them proved all but unattainable.

In reality, conditions were graver.

Certain ones harbored ancient grudges from opposing alliances. Some pledged to distinct deities, and those deities harbored deep animosities. A handful had served as heralds of the True Demon Kings. Others yearned for the Old Gods’ resurgence.

A portion escaped mortal ethics entirely.

Horrors spawned from the Metaverse lacked notions of benevolence or malice. Beings that viewed existence as quarry.

Further, some hailed from wholly alien kin.

Not even the cultivators harmonized.

One adhered to an upright sect.

Another stemmed from a fiendish path.

And within upright sects, disloyalty and contention abounded.

Far too much diversity prevailed among them for accord to thrive.

Every individual pursued personal aims.

And crucially, the prize defied division.

The Pillar of Conflict lay concealed somewhere in this realm.

Indeed, the Unknown God had lured them hither.

All recognized this truth.

Yet the lure proved irresistibly alluring.

Which among them had not been an enduring terror who battled through innumerous plots and deceptions?

The boon proffered by the Unknown God was an offer none could dismiss.

He vowed immense recompense to any who presented a Pillar.

This domain merely housed one such pillar within reach.

A lone opportunity.

A slight prospect.

Yet that sufficed.

One might ponder why these primordial terrors heeded such vows.

The response lay plain.

The Unknown God issued no idle oaths.

An oath from him stood unbreakable.

And oaths to him endured similarly.

Not even by True Gods.

For his dominion forged the tenets of the No Absolutes Accord, the primordial pact binding even celestial powers.

Covetousness had summoned them here.

Covetousness had ensnared them across eras.

The nightmare’s form undulated languidly in the murk.

Ere it replied, a gentle tone abruptly resonated across the prison.

"Perhaps it would be better if I came in person."

Steps pursued.

Soft.

Featherlight.

A petite silhouette emerged from the shadows.

It was a young maiden.

She appeared no older than a decade, attired in a plain gown. Her tiny footwear clicked softly upon the levitating stone as she advanced.

But as the timeless captives beheld her eyes, their visages gradually altered.

Those were not a child’s eyes.

Those belonged to Ittorath.