My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 994 - 996: All Came Down

The situation surpassed Renata's worst fears. The tower lords appeared utterly determined to eliminate Damon.

A colossal army marched relentlessly toward their tower. Demons swarmed through the streets and soared in the skies. Enormous war machines thundered over the earth, some towed along, others borne by gigantic demon breeds. Smaller demons growled fiercely as they hauled supply carts. A huge cavalry formation pressed ahead in tight ranks, while city sections stood fortified behind rune-etched barricades.

Siege engines stood meticulously prepared. They were set for an extended siege should the need arise.

Inside a command tent, the tower lords convened with remarkable precision. This unity far exceeded what Renata had pictured for the goddess races. Among goddess races, endless bickering and conflicting views would have erupted. Maybe their numerous factions caused such disarray.

By contrast, demon races were mainly guided by demon kin, revered as the holy race.

Damon perched high above, gazing down at the enormous force below. His troops numbered greatly, yet they remained outnumbered.

The approaching horde anticipated Damon hunkering down in defense, yet Renata understood his true plan differed. He geared up to clash head-on with overwhelming might.

Clad in his armor, Damon emerged with Matia at his flank. Her armor gleamed like frozen obsidian, exuding chilling mist with each stride.

He strode beyond the majority of his fresh recruits.

Suddenly, he issued an unforeseen command.

"Open the gates," he commanded.

"Let them in."

Those commands left every demon and beast there questioning his sanity or boundless hubris.

Gotrog inclined his head in a bow. Lifting his blazing sword, he smashed the improvised barrier of stone and sorcery. It crumbled to pieces.

Damon advanced, his hand delving into his shadow. From it, he drew forth a blade.

This blade harbored profound malice. It possessed the power to dissolve both body and spirit.

From his left grip, he unsheathed a fractured sword. This was his Dealer’s Hand.

Upon emergence, a sinister deathly aura emanated from it, compelling onlookers to recoil instinctively.

The image of a shattered sword now linked inextricably to Damon Grey. Countless followers mimicked it by wielding ruined blades for style, but Damon posed no facade.

His struggle was for survival.

’I will reach an understanding of a domain today.’

"I am here. Come out and face me if you dare."

A hefty axe dragged along the dirt as a horned demon lunged toward him.

A subtle smirk graced Damon’s mouth. He lifted the fractured blade just a bit and uttered calmly.

"Fall."

The earth shook violently. The gigantic demon slammed face-down into the soil, crushed as though burdened by an entire peak.

Damon pressed onward.

His presence expanded oppressively, dense and choking. None dared block his path. A corridor parted ahead as he neared the tower lords’ pavilion.

Upon reaching it, tower lords emerged sequentially, arms already bared.

Damon offered a slight grin, his features alight with combat fervor.

Last to appear stood Bakemon Baal.

Baal halted upon spotting Damon. His face contorted, wrestling incompatible notions. His gaze sharpened. Arms folded deliberately.

The hair gleamed white.

Yet those eyes. That aura.

Right then, wild conjectures brewed in his thoughts.

Other tower lords seethed with rage. They had marched to assail his stronghold.

Why did he linger outside?

Did he scorn the established protocols?

"You, how dare you—" one tower lord sputtered, incensed.

"So you have come to die," a female tower lord sneered maliciously.

"I see your ignorance knows no bounds. Your death shall be swift," another declared coolly, channeling spells.

"You will die here today," yet another intoned.

"I surrender," a voice rang out.

There fell a hush.

One tower lord, convinced of a mistake, bellowed, "Yes, what he said. You should surrender!"

"No. I surrender," the voice insisted.

All froze.

Heads turned to spot the craven speaker.

To their astonishment, a pale-haired demon had uttered it.

It was Bakemon Baal.

Something felt profoundly wrong.

Sweat poured from him. Not mere droplets. He dripped entirely, as combat seemed utterly unthinkable.

"Bakemon, what are you doing? Is this a joke?" a female demon kin demanded, vexation etched on her visage. Their tactician, among the sharpest minds there. Why spout such nonsense?

Bakemon eyed them briefly, then fixed on Damon.

He lacked foolishness.

This was unmistakably Damon Grey.

Naturally, prior dismissal stemmed from sheer absurdity.

Yet certainty gripped him now.

Damon Grey was human.

Unless he wasn’t?

Affirmative. Pieces aligned swiftly.

Legends claimed Damon Grey vanquished Ashcroft.

Suppose falsehood prevailed?

Imagine Ashcroft seized his form, impersonating Damon Grey?

Or perhaps slew him outright and pilfered his visage.

Such notions clarified much.

Why did balrogs flock to him in droves?

How did demons perish by his hand so readily?

Recall the prior demon. A mere "fall" escaped his lips.

And down it went.

Few recalled, yet Ashcroft wielded such incantation. One compelling collapse.

Assembling facts, Bakemon deduced dual possibilities.

Firstly, Damon Grey perished; this was Amon, synonymous with Ashcroft.

Secondly, Damon Grey endured, while bodiless Ashcroft employed arcane ritual for a Damon-like countenance.

Put differently, Amon’s true visage mirrored Damon Grey’s, prompting disguise as the enigmatic sovereign.

Indeed, all recognized true Damon Grey despised demons. Never would he confront hordes without massacring them.

Bakemon disregarded peers, approaching Damon—who stood truly baffled, clueless to the unfolding.

Bakemon dropped to knees.

"My lord... Lord Amon, it is you."

Damon blinked. Authentic shock registered. This twist blindsided him.

"My lord, you have come for the fragments... you have come for your rightful place..."

Damon grasped not the connection Bakemon forged. Amon served as his hidden persona, visage unknown to all.

A fleeting notion crossed Damon’s mind.

’Kill Bakemon.’

Should he act, timing escaped. Curiosity burned: how derived this inference?

Encountering Bakemon Baal astonished him further.

Demon kin froze upon hearing Amon invoked. Damon pondered response.

Composed, he inquired, "Tell me. How did you come to know it was I?"

Damon sensed encroaching doom. Circumstances spiraled disastrously.

Renata’s warning rang true perhaps. Pride precedes ruin.

’Do I have to slaughter this whole city to keep my identity secret?’

Negative. Futile endeavor. Demon lords would swarm instantly.

Thus, embrace the ruse.

No longer Damon Grey.

Amon he became.

Damon invoked Faceless skill. Shifting void supplanted his features. Gender, lineage, tone—all indefinable.

No matter the fallout, demon intrigues included, Damon Grey’s existence must endure untouched.

Should word leak to goddess races, countermeasures awaited later.

Pressures mounted swifter than foreseen.

Worsening it: inescapable fate.

Demon kin hushed.

Bakemon grinned, torn between terror and reverence.

"I anticipated you would be the only one who could rally so many demons with such ease. Your tower is magnificent. I also judged based on your appearance. I knew you once considered Damon Grey a worthy opponent, so you wore a face similar to his to crush the morale of the goddess races," he said in a single breath.

Damon observed Bakemon furnishing alibis. Shields for his secrecy.

Damon, adept deceiver, embraced fully.

"Indeed. You are correct. After my original form was destroyed by the Goddess of Doom, only my shadow remained. Over the years, I have slowly been attempting to reconstruct my physical form and regain my power."

His timbre resonated profoundly. Haughty. Precisely Ashcroft’s imagined cadence.

Then Faceless dissolved. Perilous ability—prolonged use risked self-dissolution.

Bakemon lowered his head.

"Then you have come for your fragments, my lord."

Damon maintained composure.

"Indeed."

Bakemon opened mouth anew as a demoness jeered.

"Yeah right, prove—"

Damon silenced her abruptly.

Demon Dominate surged; a hand flick drove her prostrate.

Hush descended.

Gradually, others knelt singly before the Dominator.