My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

The academy’s investigation team arrived with several healers and high-level recovery potions, quickly restoring some of the student’s depleted spirit reserves.

Contrary to Damon’s expectations, they didn’t even suspect him—not of being involved, nor of his blood being used in the summoning ritual. He and Lilith were only asked a few cursory questions. It seemed the academy already had an idea of what was happening or at least a lead, which meant the possibility of him being accused was off the table for now.

Professor Chrome had come along with the investigation team, wearing a worried expression. The hearty old man reassured Damon with a firm pat on the shoulder, like a kind grandfather easing a child’s fears. Damon let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized his worries were so obvious that even his professors had taken notice.

As he walked down the academy’s long corridors with Lilith, the golden light of morning did little to banish the doubts and concerns lingering in his mind. His problems always seemed to multiply. Just yesterday, his biggest concern had been Sylvia, and now he had to worry about some mastermind using his blood to summon a dark spirit.

He had done some research on the subject. The reason someone would need a vessel for a dark spirit was likely because they themselves lacked spirit affinity and couldn’t channel that power directly. Instead, they would enslave a vessel to control the spirit—or worse, extract the spirit’s power from the host and harness it for themselves. If done correctly, this method could allow them to gain new abilities, including the magic attributes possessed by the spirit.

Damon followed Lilith down the hallway until they reached a grand doorway. Without hesitation, she pushed it open and stepped inside. The moment she entered, he sensed it—nothing. It was as if the shadows inside the room had been completely suppressed until he crossed the threshold himself.

Barrier magic. His gaze shifted toward the runes on the door.

The room was massive, constructed without windows, as if to prevent anything from escaping. The air inside was unnaturally cool, a result of an artifact infused with air-conditioning magic. At the center of the room stood a large, round table, its ornate surface embedded with hundreds of glowing runes and a few magic crystals underneath. A large display hovered in the center, casting an eerie glow over the gathering. The atmosphere in the room was heavy with formality.

Seated around the grand table were four professors, along with an elderly woman who exuded an ethereal presence. Damon immediately recognized her—Marabell Defontée, an emeritus of the academy. Though she was no longer an active instructor, she was one of the academy’s most senior members and had reached the fourth class advancement. He didn’t know her magic attribute or the specific classes she had taught, as she only instructed second-years and above, but he had heard of her reputation.

The four professors, however, were much more familiar to him.

Professor Chrome, the kind old man with space attribute magic.

Professor Emeralda, the green-haired instructor who clearly despised him—especially since he had beaten Xander—but still showed reluctant care for him as her student.

Professor Tunpick, the beastkin whose wild, powerful aura made it clear he was no ordinary academic.

And lastly, Kael Blackthorne.

Damon had thought he was suspended, yet here he was, his dark and foreboding presence just as oppressive as ever. The man glanced at him and Lilith, his sharp gaze unreadable.

Lilith was the first to speak. “Greetings to the members of the academy senate.”

Damon frowned but followed her lead, offering a small bow.

The members of the senate acknowledged them with slight nods. Lilith and Damon took their positions behind their respective professors. Damon stood slightly to the side, not far from Chrome and Emeralda, watching the gathering with a quiet intensity.

Emeralda glanced at Damon, a thin smile playing on her lips before she leaned in slightly and whispered,

“I heard you beat up an entire group of first-years from the Imperial Academy…”

She covered her mouth with her hand as if hiding her amusement. “Good job.”

Damon blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He knew the Aether Academy and the Imperial Academy had a deep-seated rivalry, but even so, hearing someone as gentle as Emeralda encourage such violence was unexpected.

“Erm… thank you,” he muttered awkwardly.

Kael, standing nearby, shot Emeralda a cold look. “Do not encourage his behavior,” he said sharply, then begrudgingly glanced at Damon. “However, putting lowlifes who would oppress an old woman in their place is acceptable.”

Chrome chuckled but said nothing, though his amusement was clear.

Before the discussion could continue, the elderly woman at the head of the table—Marabell Defontée—cleared her throat, immediately commanding the room’s attention.

“Ahem… that is enough, everyone. While the lad did a good job, we have far more pressing matters at hand.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The idle conversations and lighthearted remarks faded, replaced by the weight of serious discussion.

Marabell’s voice carried the authority of someone used to commanding scholars and warriors alike. “We have already discussed everything, and all evidence has been gathered. The reason we are here is to negotiate and create alternative options—to keep everything within the academy’s walls.”

Chrome stroked his beard, nodding. “That is… under the assumption that the nobles don’t do anything reckless and end up blowing this whole matter open. The academy wants this kept hidden, restricted to only the invited parties.”

Kael’s sharp eyes narrowed. “As a noble myself, I can say with certainty that no noble would willingly involve the temple unless they were truly desperate. They have too much to lose—especially after what we uncovered.”

Emeralda shook her head. “Except… these people lost their wards. They have reason enough to be desperate.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Damon could feel the tension rising, his stomach twisting into knots. His heart felt heavy. This was the moment of truth. If all went according to plan, he would walk out a free man. If it didn’t… the gallows awaited him.

He had thought through every possibility, calculated every angle. He had to win.

Just as he was considering all the ways this could go wrong, the doors swung open.

Lady Margan stepped in, her expression weary yet unwavering. Behind her, an entourage of knights and servants followed, their movements precise and controlled. Among them were several well-dressed nobles, their gazes cold and unyielding.

She stepped forward, her voice ringing through the chamber.

“Let us begin… I want justice for my son, even if I must shed blood to obtain it.”

Damon’s heart grew colder as his Remorseless skill activated, suppressing his fear and letting cold logic take control.