My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Not too long ago, a kind hunter had sat down with Damon and asked about his past. It may not have seemed like much back then, but telling his story had helped lighten the burden, if only a little.

Now, here he was, doing the same thing for a fairy girl who seemed to have a difficult past.

As the kind hunter had told him in the past, kindness was reciprocal—what you give is what you get.

Matlock’s voice was low. He had heard about the Frost Continent; honestly, it was basic geography. The world only had nine, after all. The Frost Continent, Norrath, was the northernmost of them. As for her birthplace, Winterhaven, he wasn’t familiar with it.

Her eyes were distant, her fists trembling as she recalled her past.

“My father was from a family that had acted as the king’s blade for generations… a position passed down from father to son.”

She paused, taking a deep breath as a distant roar shook the heavens. She didn’t react much to it. They had heard it a few times now—the sound of the awakening dragon. But at the moment, the memories of her past were more terrifying than its distant horror.

“Sadly, my father had no sons. He married many women, had even more mistresses, and fathered ninety-nine daughters… not a single son.”

She lowered her head.

Damon looked at her.

“He couldn’t let a woman inherit a legacy created and upheld by men.”

Matlock nodded.

“He couldn’t. The next king’s guard had to be a man from the Faldren house, just like him and his father before him.”

Damon could understand that.

She bit her lip. “My father’s fortune changed the day my mother became pregnant. At last, he would get his wish—a son to carry his title, the sword of the future king.”

She looked at Damon, who wore a calm expression.

“My mother conceived twins… a boy and a girl. My father was filled with joy, and from the moment I was born, I was a shadow, unnoticed under my brother’s radiance.”

She smiled dryly, pain evident in her expression.

“However, my father’s joy was short-lived. My twin brother, Matlock, was a frail person, sickly and unable to carry out any of his duties.”

She raised her head to push back the tears.

“So my father turned his rage on my mother. In the end, she couldn’t bear it and killed herself right before my eyes. I still remember the way her wings dimmed and she became cold. The blood falling on my face felt so warm…”

She sniffed, her nose turning red.

“Her death was of little consequence to my lord father. He had many more women where she came from. Her value was in her ability to give him a son, and she had failed… and made his son weak.”

Damon narrowed his eyes. Matlock being born weak wasn’t really his mother’s fault.

Matlock lowered her head.

“Even then, my twin brother was still the jewel of his eyes. He tried to train him in the sword, but he was just too weak to fight… or even hold a sword at all.”

She sighed, holding a strand of her hair.

“It was then my father had a crazed thought. He could not allow anyone to know that his heir was weak, so as Matlock’s twin sister—being identical in some ways—I was forced to dress as him. Despite having lived in his shadow…”

She let out a shaky breath.

“Outside the castle, I was Matlock. Inside, I was just Matia… just a woman.”

She looked at Damon as the memories came back.

As Matlock, there were many expectations placed on her. Many sought to duel the heir of the Faldren family—the future blade of the king. But that itself was a problem.

Whenever she picked up any type of weapon, her father would rage, reminding her that a woman had no place wielding a sword. He would flog her until she was left bleeding and unconscious.

However, she was also trapped. If she was challenged outside as Matlock, she could not refuse. And if she lost, her father would break her legs for dragging her brother’s good name through the mud.

“You have shamed the family, girl… you will pay with your flesh, blood, and bones.”

She was not allowed to be Matia, nor was she allowed to be Matlock. She was just a shadow on the wall. But if she was to be a shadow, she at least wanted to be herself—strong, even if only as something lesser. A part of her wanted to be the king’s blade, just to prove that a ruler’s blade could still be a woman’s.

However, all she did was endure, year after year, too afraid to be either.

Until one day, her brother’s illness took a turn for the worse. Desperate to save his son, her father ordered her to sacrifice her fairy wings to save his life. The act of sacrificing one’s wings took them away forever, leaving the fairy crippled. In exchange, they could perform one miracle.

She didn’t mind doing it—to save her own twin brother. However, when the time came, her brother refused to be saved. He whispered to her in his final moments:

“Matia… I reject your wings. I am broken, but you can still soar. I had a dream, my dear sister. One day, you will be the blade of a powerful ruler. So please… soar for the both of us.”

He died with a happy smile. Her brother had always been the only one who saw her as matia.

Their father, however, was enraged. He beat Matia half to death until his own knights stopped him, begging him to see reason. It was not her fault. And should he kill her, there would be no one left to masquerade as the now-dead Matlock.

And so she was spared. Allowed to live, but only as her brother. She would never get the chance to be Matia again.

On that day she was announced dead.

She lived a lie, deceiving everyone she met. And in the end, whenever people found out the truth, they would leave her behind—because she was a woman.

Damon looked at her, his expression calm. He stood up, glancing at the others before looking at the sun at high noon.

“The others have slept enough. Time to wake them up. We need to keep moving before something worse happens to us.”

She nodded. He probably didn’t care. She chuckled bitterly—why would he? This was the tyrannical Damon Grey.

He turned around, snapping his fingers.

“What are you doing, Matia? If you keep gawking, you won’t get a chance to prove them all wrong.”

He raised his head at her, his eyes full of untamed defiance.

“Who says a woman can’t be great? Some of the most terrifying people in this world are women. Hell, even the Goddess is a woman. And I don’t think you get called the Goddess of Doom for being a delicate flower.”

She paused looking at him with an almost doubtful expression, before she felt a sense of realization.

Matia’s eyes widened, a small, almost invisible tear slipping down her cheek. She clenched her fists, stepping forward.

Following behind Damon as his shadow stretched long beneath the bright sunlight.