My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

The sound of metal being dragged across the ground echoed through the night. A young man, battered and looking half-dead, walked down the mountain pass with a pained expression. Yet, the pain did not come from the many gruesome wounds covering his body—it came from the deep-seated agony caused by the Ashborn skill, the unbearable torment of tenfold the pain of burning alive.

Moonlight streamed down the path, illuminating the horrors lurking in the mountain’s shadows. He spread his shadow perception, indifferent to their presence. They did not approach. Perhaps they, too, sensed the madness hidden in his vacant gaze. Or perhaps the horrors at the edge of the Duhu Mountains were not as hostile as those deeper inside. Either way, Damon passed in relative peace, dragging the massive axe of the dead war troll behind him.

It wasn’t long before he reached the bridge where his friends were supposed to be. The absence of battle sounds left him with three possibilities. The first they had crossed the bridge and cut it off, leaving him behind. The second they had somehow managed to kill the war troll. The last… the worst—that they had all perished, and another war troll awaited him.

The latter troubled him not because he feared the fight but because he didn’t want them to die. A small, buried part of him craved to test his newfound power against another formidable foe. He suppressed that thought as he arrived at the mountain pass. The scent of blood was heavy, the silence unsettling. His vacant gaze swept over the sight before him—his friends, unmoving, covered in blood, with no sign of the war troll.

For the first time in a long while, he felt an emotion more dreadful than the aftereffects of Ashborn’s agonizing flames.

He raised his head, shadow perception spreading. His heart sank—until he noticed the faint mist of breath from Evangeline. She was alive. Checking the others, he confirmed they all were.

A breath escaped him. His body wavered, knees hitting the ground. Whether it was from his broken bones, his many wounds, or simply the relief of knowing they had survived, he did not know. He dragged the troll’s massive axe—about the size of a human—and let it fall with a clang before turning his gaze toward the old, rickety bridge.

“How did the war trolls and goblins get past the first time…?”

The bridge didn’t look sturdy, but if it could support the weight of war trolls, then it should hold. The real question was what ordeal awaited beyond it. The forest just a few kilometers ahead hid horrors yet unknown.

Shaking the thought aside, Damon leaned down to check on Leona. She was unconscious but very much alive. Something was different. She had reached her first class advancement. He lifted his head, scanning the others.

‘They all have…’

He brushed her hair aside with a deep feeling of relief… Leona was alive. One by one, he checked on the others. Evangeline was next; she was also alive, only lightly injured.

“She must have healed herself…”

Next, he moved toward Sylvia. As he approached, his shadow stretched unnaturally, rolling around her, its presence darkening. It stopped over her arm, where she lay in a pool of her own blood, as if clutching something. The shadow hesitated, as if sensing something unseen.

[Ding… Ding…]

The system panel chimed, making Damon frown. He couldn’t sense anything unusual, but his shadow remained fixated on Sylvia. Kneeling down, he gently touched her, noting the blood around her eyes. She twitched slightly, her body instinctively reacting, though she remained unconscious. Damon narrowed his eyes at his shadow, his voice low and demanding.

“What are you doing… tell me now.”

The shadow recoiled slightly, then shook its head as if dismissing his concern.

Damon didn’t believe it. The system had reacted strangely—there was something here. “Tell me…”

His shadow merely gestured, a silent indication that there was nothing to worry about.

He sighed in frustration. He wouldn’t get answers today, but he would press his shadow later. However, if his shadow had taken such an interest in Sylvia, it couldn’t be ignored. Damon paused, recalling a similar incident—when his shadow had interacted with Lilith Astranova.

“Is this… related to the Unknown God?”

If Sylvia had been touched by a god, she would bear a stigmata. A thought surfaced in his mind, making him hesitate for only a moment. He needed to check. Whispering a quiet apology, he lifted the tattered fabric of her clothing just enough to examine her bare back. Shadow energy surged through his fingertips as he searched for a divine mark… but he found nothing.

He exhaled, relief mixing with uncertainty. “False alarm… or something I don’t understand yet.”

Carefully, he placed Sylvia beside the others and moved on to Xander. His friend was still alive, though covered in blood. After confirming his condition, Damon clicked his tongue and dragged Xander forward, unceremoniously tossing him near the unconscious girls.

“Sleep on your own time,” he muttered before turning toward the cliff’s edge.

The traces of battle were clear—Matlock had sent the war troll plummeting to its death. Damon peered down into the abyss below.

“That’s a long fall… It’s definitely dead. Or food for whatever horrors dwell down there.”

He turned to Matlock, who lay battered but breathing. Damon crouched down, placing his hand on Matlock’s chest, feeling for a heartbeat. The rhythm was steady.

“Still alive…”

However, that wasn’t the only reason he had checked. His suspicions were confirmed.

“It’s as I suspected. Our androgynous friend here is actually a girl.”

His gaze lingered on the tight bandages wrapped around her chest, concealing her figure. Damon arched a brow, intrigued.

“How did she even hide all that with just bandages? What’s her story…”

He let out a breath before lifting Matlock and placing her beside the others. Then, settling himself next to the massive war axe, he prepared to guard them through the night. Whatever mysteries surrounded Matlock or the strangeness in Sylvia, he would get his answers eventually.

For now, he had one job: ensure his party survived one more night.

His head throbbed with agony, still he remained vigilant…to tired to try anything else.

Not even basic first aid.