My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 972 - 973: Mother And Daughter

Rexagon’s massive frame acted as a giant, unavoidable target.

Beams of energy hammered into his broad chest, bursting into blinding white light as they impacted his scales.

"AGGGRRHHHH!"

He let out a roar of pure frustration.

It stung.

Though the wounds were far from lethal, it was irritating.

These were designed specifically as anti-dragon armaments.

In a world dominated by dragons, no kingdom would dare exist without such countermeasures.

Space began to ripple just to the left of the fray.

Several figures emerged into the open air.

They were elder elves.

These were ancients who had lived in total seclusion within the Moonglades.

Each one exuded the crushing aura of the Seventh Class.

Four of them stepped forward.

At the center of their group, a radiant moon disc pulsed, overflowing with ancient power.

"Did you truly believe you could wander into my Moonglades and act as you pleased, you filthy lizard?" one asked, his lengthy white beard catching the wind.

"Prepare to leave your life behind," another stated with icy indifference.

At that exact moment, Kadelas appeared behind Rexagon, a trail of light marking his path.

A flash of silver radiance erupted from another direction.

Two additional figures arrived.

They were elves from the Silver Glades.

Among them stood the sole leader of the Halls of Steel.

He moved forward, maintaining a steady, unwavering gaze.

"Great one... I beg you, depart. Cease this mindless slaughter."

Rexagon hovered in the sky, stationary for a heartbeat.

He was completely surrounded.

Confronted by a collection of Seventh Class existences, he saw magical formations locking onto his position.

Forces were converging from every angle.

Regardless—

His fury only intensified.

For those who attain the Seventh Class, the passage of time is a double-edged sword.

Having lived for centuries, many of them eventually grew weary.

They had encountered the ultimate boundary.

The ceiling of their power.

Consequently, they chose to slumber, one after another, entering a deep state to stall the steady decay of their longevity, all to sustain a fragile, desperate dream.

They hoped that one day...

They might finally break past the Seventh Rank.

Because the second one reaches that plane, the truth becomes clear.

There is a higher existence.

Another realm.

Another peak to conquer.

And yet—

They could never reach it.

They could never leave this world.

Ascension was denied to them.

Who among them was not a genius?

Who lacked the drive of ambition?

Who failed to possess true conviction?

None of them.

They refused to submit to their limitations.

Nevertheless...

The heavens could not be defied.

Perhaps that ancient proverb held weight.

The great roc despises the heavens for being too low.

They were trapped within their own, personal heavens.

They had struck the ceiling that limited their growth.

Now, they only emerged when necessity demanded it.

When their people stared into the abyss of extinction.

Or when the world stood upon the precipice of annihilation.

---

"A great dragon..." one of the ancient elves whispered, a touch of melancholy in his tone. "It has been six thousand years since I last saw one. The last was Aethergon, the Great Storm."

They appeared archaic.

Yet, they bore no marks of the passage of time.

Their skin remained smooth, untouched by age.

Only their grey beards, the lines on their foreheads, and a certain dimness in their gaze hinted at the crushing weight of centuries.

---

Rexagon’s eyes scanned the battlefield.

Four enemies stood before him.

Five... taking into account the elf woman entrenched in the city.

Her aura felt vibrant.

She was a fresh, newly ascended Seventh Class.

Then—

Two more awaited him from behind.

Seven in total.

They intended to weave a formation.

To shackle him.

To put him to death.

Rexagon flexed his wings, feeling the strain.

They were battered.

Scarred from his previous fight with Ashergon.

He was not at the peak of his cultivation.

His wounds were deep, and he bled—

Internally.

And yet—

Why should he retreat from a pack of vermin?

He would turn their city into ash.

---

The Elf Queen, Daphne, signaled with a lift of her hand.

Moonlight converged around her, flooding her body with surging essence.

The formation reached its activation point.

The Moon Disc served as its anchor.

Its raw output would be funneled into Kadelas’ domain.

Everything rested in readiness.

She was about to deliver the command—

When suddenly—

Sylvia stood beside her.

She seemed like a ghost.

"Greetings, mother."

A smile graced her face.

But her eyes...

They looked dull.

Lifeless.

"Sylvia?" Daphne frowned, perplexed.

"Why are you here? Do you see the threat before us?" Her tone turned sharp. "I explicitly told you that boy was no partner for you."

Sylvia tilted her head, observing her mother.

"No, he is far from ideal. I find myself in agreement."

A faint smile reached her lips.

"However, as you can see... I have a tendency to dismiss the red flags and keep my eyes on the potential benefits."

Daphne’s expression turned frigid.

"Do you mistake this for a trivial game?"

Sylvia gave a slow shake of her head.

"Not at all."

She turned her gaze toward Rexagon.

"I anticipated that you and father would prevail and drive him back. This was likely just a way to provoke your anger."

She paused momentarily.

"No hard feelings, mother."

Daphne’s face grew ominously dark.

Sylvia continued, her voice losing its softness.

"Direct your focus toward defense. He hasn't much time left."

Her eyes gleamed with intensity.

"He seeks to crumble the city. Target those scales coated in dirt. They are already damaged, a gift from his fight with Ashergon."

Daphne blinked, bewildered by the sudden revelation.

"What... are you talking about?"

Sylvia stepped closer.

"Just trust me. For once in your life... I am begging for your trust."

Desperation bled into her words.

Daphne squinted at her.

"That is a difficult request when you are clearly just a projection."

She insisted on viewing this as an illusion.

Sylvia reached out.

And grasped her mother’s hand.

"I am here."

Daphne went rigid.

Her eyes widened with realization.

"You... you abandoned them?"

"I would never simply flee and leave you behind," Sylvia replied in a hushed tone.

Daphne’s stare turned wary, suspicion flooding back.

"You are not considering a betrayal, are you?"

Sylvia’s eyes wobbled.

"I am your daughter... how could you think that?"

Tears welled in her eyes.

Daphne refused to relent.

"I am an oracle. And I am your mother."

Sylvia exhaled a ragged breath, then offered a small, sad smile.

"We have far greater threats to address."

Daphne hesitated.

Deep down, she knew.

She felt the wrongness of the situation.

And yet—

She decided to put her faith in her daughter regardless.

Sylvia had no intention of running; she never did. She arrived to unveil the results of her hidden labor.

She had known of Rexagon’s arrival months ahead of time.

Why else would she return home so readily, without mounting any defense?

Did her father truly believe she had accepted defeat?

No, this was her moment to prove her own strength.

And so, the battle commenced.