My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Galahad and his knights stopped in front of Damon.

The knight narrowed his eyes at him, clear traces of disdain evident in his gaze. This was the no-good wretch who was wooing their lady—a woman old enough to be his mother. Did this young man have no shame?

Galahad had heard the whispers about Damon’s reputation at the academy. A troublemaker, a scoundrel, a nuisance. And yet, for whatever reason, their lady had suddenly found herself infatuated with him.

It made no sense.

And now, in the middle of a crisis, she had ordered them to leave her side—just because of one call from a boy the age of her son. How could Galahad not feel irked?

Still, he was a knight of the Deep. He had to obey.

“I have come to aid you, as per my lady’s will.”

Damon smirked, noting Galahad’s expression.

“Thanks for coming, Sir Galahad. It is an honor to have you by my side.”

He was trying to change—trying to be a better person. And since these knights were about to risk their lives for him, the least he could do was be polite.

Lilith glanced at him.

“What’s the plan?”

The others turned to look at him as well, waiting for his answer.

Damon shifted his gaze to the battlefield. The knights and the massive swarm of dark spirits were evenly matched—both in numbers and rank. The only real problem was the big one.

“Make sure my party gets inside no matter what.”

He glanced at his companions.

Their faces were set with resolve. Conviction.

“The plan is simple.”

He exhaled.

“Charge.”

With that, Damon dashed forward, sprinting straight into the swarm of spirits.

Evangeline didn’t hesitate—she followed right after him.

Galahad winced. He had half a mind to let the bastard die.

But…

Lilith Astranova was with him.

And with her there, the likelihood of Damon dying was lower than all of them.

Galahad let out a sharp breath and raised his sword.

“Knights of the Deep—charge!”

He kicked his steed forward. The ground thundered as his knights followed, galloping into what could only be a dire battle.

Damon didn’t care if the knights of House Margan died.

Though, if they were going to die, he’d prefer they die serving a purpose.

That said, he hadn’t sent them in blindly.

The odds were in their favor.

His shadow perception had already spread into the building.

He had found Sylvia.

She was standing there—her shadow flickering, tainted. Her usual bright presence had been drowned in something dark, something spiteful.

Yet, at the same time, there was something else.

A deep resentment.

A burning passion.

A strange duality.

But more than that…

It was terrifying.

It was pushing Sylvia’s body to its limits, forcing it to adapt to its overwhelming power.

Right now, she was stronger than all of them.

In every aspect.

She was bordering on a first-class advancement. No—her power was already at that level.

But Damon felt no fear.

[Remorseless] only showed him what he needed to do to win.

And he would do whatever was necessary.

He raised his daggers in a cross before him.

The roar of the spirits echoed through the battlefield, their bodies wreathed in black flames that flickered like living shadows. The thunderous charge of the knights clashed against the oncoming horde, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Behind him, he could feel his friends—all carrying the same desperation, the same resolve. They had come to save Sylvia, no matter the odds.

And then, the two forces met.

Chaos erupted.

Spirits dissipated into nothingness with shrill, soul-tearing wails, while knights screamed in agony as they were engulfed by the cursed flames of Ignath.

“Shields up! Now! Defensive formation!”

Galahad’s voice cut through the carnage as he rallied his knights, trying to hold the line against the relentless spirits.

Damon’s expression hardened.

Xander and the girls paled at the sight before them.

These flames—they weren’t just fire.

They were hot enough to melt enchanted armor and powerful artifacts. Hot enough to incinerate a man, leaving neither ash nor bone.

Yet, at the same time, they were so cold they felt like ice.

These cursed flames could burn not just the body, but the soul itself.

The flames of Rashi Ignath.

Fear spread like a thick fog among the knights. Even with all their experience, they shuddered.

And this was only the beginning.

Damon had known this would happen.

That was why he had them charge.

They had no stakes in this battle.

If he had given them time to think—time to hesitate—many would have turned and fled.

“So I can only force them to fight or die… they have no choice.”

Yes, the odds were on their side.

But only if they didn’t run.

Now, surrounded by spirits, there was no way back. The only way was forward.

Galahad looked at Damon.

Even in the chaos, the young man’s expression remained calm.

Unshaken.

“Did… did he plan this?”

Galahad knew all too well—retreating in the middle of battle was far harder than stories made it seem.

He studied Damon’s dark, unreadable eyes as the boy suddenly leapt onto the steed of a charging knight with catlike reflexes.

Then—

He raised his voice above the battlefield.

“Brave knights of the Deep! We are surrounded—do not despair! Victory is at hand! As long as my party makes it inside, we can destroy the vessel!”

His voice rang clear and strong.

He lifted his blade higher.

“Let history remember this day! Let it be known as the day the Knights of the Deep vanquished the great spirit that has destroyed countless warriors!”

The knights turned, their eyes locking onto him.

He pointed his dagger forward, standing atop the steed that reared beneath him.

“Charge forward, spirit slayers! Charge forward, heroes!”

And like moths drawn to a flame, the knights roared in answer.

Their fear forgotten, their courage ignited.

Swords clashed. Shields rose. Their battle cries thundered.

Galahad watched in stunned silence.

His blood boiled with the fury of battle, invigorated.

His eyes locked onto Damon—

The boy whose gaze was darker than the abyss itself.

“What a—he’s a… he’s a…”