My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 993 - 995: Tower Meeting

This amounted to a grave insult.

The demons formed a race that revered raw power. They refused to suffer humiliation at the hands of an unknown weakling.

Yet demons possessed cunning as well.

And Damon relied precisely on that trait.

Arms folded tightly across his chest, fingers pressing subtly into his sleeves, a white-haired demon gazed at the imposing pillars engraved with sigils from various demon bloodlines. Certain etchings represented modified forms of ancient emblems connected to the demon lords.

This setup formed a communication array linking the tower lords.

Bakemon sensed their anger hanging thick in the air, much like electricity crackling before thunder.

He remained a newcomer. Most of these demons boasted greater age. Several held firm in the fifth class, while others ranked fourth class, each harboring nascent concepts of a domain.

His own power was formidable.

Still, he questioned whether this fresh tower demon could confront multiple fifth-class demonkin simultaneously.

Despite the circulating rumors.

That the figure had effortlessly killed a fifth-class ghoul.

Nobody took that seriously.

It must have been fabricated.

"Who is this idiot? Why does he defy tradition?"

"He obviously doesn't know his place," another tower lord retorted, frustration sharpening his tone.

"Making so many enemies is foolish," a more composed voice remarked.

"I see I'm not alone in getting his declaration."

"I received it too. His idiocy is almost entertaining. He'll perish soon enough."

"I wouldn't be so sure. He might possess the strength to support his claims," a smooth female voice interjected.

"If not, I'll claim him as my concubine," another demoness declared with haughty laughter.

"What if he's stronger than we imagine?" a different woman's voice taunted her.

"Then I'll become his concubine," she shot back, dismissing the idea entirely.

Bakemon stayed silent. He merely observed the pillars, absorbing the voices resonating through the chamber.

"Is this a scheme? Maybe he's no mere novice," a steady voice proposed.

"We ought to attempt contact. This bold move has gathered a huge army. Both monsters and demons flock to such brazen power shows. It stirs their blood."

"Such displays ignite anyone's passion; it's the classic ploy, yet it works wonders," a casual demonkin noted.

At last, Bakemon spoke, his tone even and serene.

"I attempted contact. Many of you likely did the same. His tower blocks all communication. They demand only surrender."

A derisive snort rang out.

"Idiot. Does he believe beating Zanat Zagan and commanding a handful of balrogs makes him invincible?" a woman's alluring, captivating voice wondered.

"Exactly. Zanat lacked true might. Overcoming him means little."

Bakemon's arms clenched tighter over his chest. Taming a balrog was no trivial achievement, though they commanded their own balrogs—some serving demon lords directly, beyond mere allegiance.

This overconfidence stirred a vague familiarity, breeding unease within him.

"Hm. The previous time I encountered such hubris came from two beings whose battle seemed to rip the world apart."

The room fell hushed at his words. Bakemon commanded respect for his strength, and especially as Baal's son, famed for his cool judgment and tactical brilliance.

"Explain yourself," someone prompted.

"The last instance... occurred when I encountered the Unknown Ruler. Amon."

Whispers erupted instantly.

Amon's name had exploded in popularity across the demon continent over the past year.

The demon whose face remained veiled. Shapeless and undying. A legend in the flesh, who infiltrated the war games right under the goddess races' watchful eyes.

Many suspected he was a sentient shard of Ashcroft.

Certain groups pushed to collect such shards and present them to Amon.

This explained the temple distributing those holy fragments as tournament prizes.

Any winner understood their real task: deliver it to him. A profound honor.

Demons all idolized Ashcroft the Dominator. If Amon embodied him, he enjoyed vast backing, particularly from young demons steeped in tales of the golden era when demons almost seized the world.

Bakemon's eyes narrowed faintly.

"The sole other figure matching that arrogance... was Damon Grey. As you know, that scum employed dirty tricks to cheat a depleted Lord Amon, fresh from battling every goddess race single-handedly."

Nods and murmurs of assent rippled through.

Demons could never admit Amon's fair defeat.

The mention of Damon Grey instantly darkened their moods.

"Damon Grey? That champion of the goddess races?"

"I heard he's a deep-seated racist who despises demons utterly. He pushed for our extermination."

"I heard he's a vile degenerate who got the elf king Kadelas Moonveil's daughter pregnant and shirked all duty."

"But aren't the Moonglades our staunchest allies? How dare he?"

"I also heard he forced an innocent girl to kneel publicly and address him as daddy."

"What a beast..."

They spat curses.

"Indeed," Bakemon replied steadily, eyes locked on the pillars. "A mighty beast. Extremely mighty."

He adjusted his stance subtly, eyeing the obscured projections concealing their forms.

"In my view, such extreme arrogance typically signals real power behind it."

"What do you imply, son of Baal?" a tower lord inquired.

"I suggest caution. Maybe we should hold back from engaging."

"Enough!" a fifth-class tower lord roared. "We've suffered too much disgrace. Our followers lie dead. Our towers face assault. And you advise against striking?"

"I won't accept this fool rivals Amon. Or that scum Damon Grey."

"This might seem excessive, but let's unite to discipline this tradition-breaker. We're not bullying him. We're upholding our forebears' time-honored customs."

Silence hung briefly.

"All in favor, say aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

...

...

"Aye."

"It's settled then. We'll crush him. Then resume the tournament."

Bakemon breathed out slowly via his nostrils and glanced toward the window, where the colossal tower loomed afar like a defiant spike piercing the heavens.

They all had to realize it.

Whoever commanded such a gigantic tower would have demolished them individually.

They merely sought justification.

Justification to band together.

Justification to topple a superior force.

And he had handed them the perfect pretext.

'Hypocrites'