My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

The Duhu Mountain path was quiet in the daytime, save for the occasional sounds of forest critters. For the first half of their journey, the group remained unusually silent, expecting to encounter something horrible, something terrifying. But instead, the mountain forest was… normal.

In fact, it was more than normal—it was serene. The early morning fog had lifted, revealing a peaceful landscape bathed in soft daylight. The path was clear, the air crisp, and everything felt almost too perfect.

The group adhered strictly to the many rules Damon had laid out. They didn’t look into the tree lines. They didn’t whistle or sing. They stayed on the path, never once straying.

“This… this isn’t as scary as I thought…”

Matlock’s voice broke the silence after nearly two hours of trekking through the mountain.

Damon winced. He wasn’t a superstitious person, but something about Matlock’s words sent a chill down his spine.

“Thanks a lot for the jinx, Matlock…”

Matlock blinked, confused. “What did I do?”

Leona shot a glance at the androgynous fairy. “How about shutting your mouth? This place gives me the—”

“Don’t speak ill of the mountains.”

Sylvia cut her off before she could finish. Her voice was calm, but her grip on her bag had tightened.

Evangeline exhaled. Everyone was on edge.

“How long before we cross the mountains?”

Xander suddenly stopped, his expression tensing as if he’d heard something. Without thinking, he began to turn around—

Rustle.

Damon moved without hesitation, picking up a rock and hurling it at Xander before he could fully turn his head. The stone smacked against his shoulder, making him flinch.

“No, you didn’t.”

Damon’s voice was low but firm.

Instantly, the group tensed. Their breathing grew shallow.

Something was watching them. Or was it just in their heads?

There were many strange rules in these mountains, but the worst of them all was simple:

If something chases you—do not run.

Cold sweat dripped down Leona’s forehead as her beastkin ears twitched. She could hear it now—rustling in the woods around them.

Slowly, her head lifted. Her instincts screamed at her to not look, but her body disobeyed.

And the moment she did—she regretted it.

By a tree, standing motionless and staring at them, was a pale, bipedal figure.

It gave off no presence. No sound.

As if it wasn’t truly there.

Its skin was stretched thin, almost translucent, its arms unnaturally long. Its head was tilted slightly to the side, and its eyes—

Its eyes were upside down.

And then there was its mouth.

A perpetual, unnerving smile, stretching far too wide across its entire face.

It made eye contact with her.

Leona’s breath caught in her throat. Every nerve in her body screamed to run, to scream, to do something. But she did nothing.

She bit her lip, fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms.

A gentle tug at her hand snapped her out of it.

Damon was beside her, his expression calm, but sweat beaded at his temple.

He smiled—an easy, natural smile, like nothing was wrong.

“No, you didn’t.”

Right.

The rule was simple.

If you saw something—

No, you didn’t.

Do not acknowledge anything you see in the mountains.

Leona nodded, her face pale as she gripped Damon’s hand tightly. She barely registered Matlock stepping closer until she felt the fairy’s trembling fingers wrap around Damon’s other hand.

Damon glanced down at Matlock’s hand—softer than even Leona’s. His brows furrowed.

“What is it now…?”

Matlock’s face was ashen, his entire body quivering, dark hair trembling. His wide eyes watered as he whispered in a shaking voice:

“No, I didn’t…”

Damon didn’t want to look. He shouldn’t look. But his instincts betrayed him. His gaze shifted toward the treeline, and there—standing among the twisted branches—was a creature.

It was imp-like, with malformed limbs, its arms too long, its legs thick like logs. Pitch-black skin stretched over its frame, making it blend into the shadows. Its eyes, in stark contrast, were milky white, unblinking. It wore a thatched covering over its torso and clutched a whip in one hand.

Damon swallowed thickly and turned his head away immediately.

A small, desperate tug at his combat uniform made him stiffen. Sylvia was gripping his sleeve, her hands trembling as she forced herself to stare at the ground.

Xander was pale, his body rigid, while Evangeline had silently pressed closer to Damon’s side.

One by one, Damon realized—they were all surrounding him.

“Sh… should we fight?” Xander’s voice was barely audible, betraying his unease.

Damon exhaled slowly, forcing a wry smile.

“Fight? What are we fighting?” His voice was steady, but his teeth clenched as he forced the next words out. “There’s no one here but us.”

He could see the way the girls paled, but they all nodded. They had to.

The rules were clear: Do not acknowledge anything you see in the mountains.

But then—their situation took a turn for the worse.

The black-skinned entity giggled. A sickly, childlike sound. Then—it cried. Wailing like an infant.

The whip in its hand cracked against the ground, and in the next instant, it ran toward them.

Matlock’s entire body trembled as he gripped Damon’s arm, his nails digging in.

Then—Xander moved.

He turned, his body shifting as if to bolt.

No!

Damon reacted instantly, grabbing Xander’s collar and yanking him back before he could take another step.

The worst rule of all—the one they could never break.

If something chases you in the Duhu Mountains—do not run.

Running meant one thing.

It meant you were prey.

Xander paled, his breath coming in short gasps.

The creature—just a few feet away—laughed through its sobbing wails. Its mouth opened, showing a row of jagged, uneven teeth. It held its mat and whip in one hand and cracked it against the ground again.

The sound reverberated through the group, but no one reacted.

No one ran.

No one looked at it.

Damon could feel its breath, close enough that it sent a chill down his spine.

It circled them, shifting erratically, but none of them moved. Sylvia’s fingers trembled against his sleeve. Evangeline’s hands were clenched so tight her knuckles turned white.

Seconds passed.

Then minutes.

And then—

The creature let out one last giggle.

It stepped back.

And without another sound, it turned and melted back into the woods, vanishing beyond the trees.

Damon exhaled, releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He started walking again, forcing himself to move. The others followed wordlessly, their footsteps eerily synchronized.

No one spoke for a long while.

Because they all knew—

This was only the beginning.

And the worst was yet to come.

If the Duhu Mountains were this bad in the day…

How much worse would it be at night?

Matlock bit his lip, his delicate features tense. His wings fluttered slightly, a nervous tic.

“I think… I would have preferred to be caught by the demon army…” he muttered.

Damon let out a small, breathless chuckle, trying to lift the mood.

“And considering you look like a pretty girl,” he mused, tilting his head toward Matlock, “the goblins would’ve had a decent toy.”

Matlock flinched.

Damon smirked despite the sweat clinging to his forehead. “As long as you can take backshots.”

Matlock shuddered violently, lowering his head, his grip tightening on Damon’s arm.

The joke fell flat.

No one laughed.

No one had the energy to.

Damon’s smirk faded as he raised his head, eyes narrowing.

Far in the distance, the forest beyond the mountains shifted. Birds.

A flock suddenly burst from the treeline, scattering into the sky.

Something was moving.

Damon squinted, scanning the distance.

Then he heard it.

A low, guttural roar.

His stomach dropped.

The war trolls.

They were on the move. Hunting them.

Damon’s grip on his bag tightened as he turned to the others.

“Alright.” His voice was sharp now, commanding. “Time to start running. Keep your eyes down—and stay on the path.”

He didn’t wait.

He took off.

The others followed close behind.

They couldn’t afford to break the rules.

Not here.

Not in the Duhu Mountains.