My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Damon had a fabric tied around his head, holding a broom. Never in a million years did he think he’d be cleaning a mansion… in the middle of a death zone.

The worm was dead, leaving behind only a few twitching tentacles. Once again, Damon opted to get rid of the corpse. But to avoid suspicion, he let them see only part of the truth—how he reduced bodies to ash using Ashborn.

He couldn’t exactly show them how he devoured monsters with his shadow.

Afterward, they’d taken a tour of the mansion. Other than some scattered bones and decayed furniture, they didn’t find anything.

No monsters.

No ghosts.

And worst of all—no treasure.

That last one hurt Damon the most.

He bit his lip.

“The owners of this mansion must’ve been poor… Next time, I’ll get a castle. A magic castle…”

The more he thought about it, the more pleasant it sounded. Evangeline, who was holding a mop and bucket, sighed as she glanced at him.

“Your love for material things is gonna get us killed before any monster does, isn’t it?”

Damon sneered. “I don’t expect—”

“—someone rich to get it, I know,” she cut in flatly. “You’ve said that a billion times. You’re poor. We get it. But if I find out you’re some secret heir to a billion zeni fortune, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Damon scoffed, wiping sweat from his brow.

“My father was born into poverty. In fact, he inherited it—just like his father before him.”

She tilted her head. “What about your mother, then?”

Damon shrugged. “Who knows? She was probably rich. Had a fancy portrait with her brother or something… I even have it with me. Been carrying it as a good luck charm.”

Evangeline glanced around at the dusty ruin they were stuck cleaning. They’d survived goblins, war trolls, eldritch horrors in cursed mountains, nearly been wyvern food, stumbled through haunted forests, and nearly got devoured by a beldam… again and again.

“I think—wait. How long have you been wearing that thing?”

Damon pulled out his mother’s locket. “This thing? Umm… since the semester evaluation started.”

Evangeline gave a bitter smile. What a coincidence.

“Isn’t that also when our luck took a nosedive?”

Damon looked at her… then at the locket.

“Pfft. I guess so. Now that I think about it, my little sister also got an incurable disease after she started wearing this…”

His head lowered slightly, eyes distant.

“Maybe… my mother’s heirloom is actually cursed. I should’ve let it get buried with her…”

The mood suddenly shifted. Evangeline blinked, caught off guard by the weight of his words.

“S-So that thing has a portrait inside? Wow… I’d love to see it. Actually… now that I think about it, my grandfather has a ring made of a similar-looking material.”

Damon glanced at her. “Erm… sure, but I can’t open it easily. You need a luminous magic attribute to unlock it. If I use mine, it’d take forever.”

She raised her hand, summoning a small orb of glowing light.

“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to be a walking light bulb.”

Damon gave her a long look, then nodded. “Okay.”

Evangeline placed her hand over the locket. After a moment, a soft click echoed. Damon opened it slowly.

“Hey, are you guys working or chatting?”

Sylvia walked up to them, covered in dust from scrubbing a far-off corner of the mansion.

Evangeline turned away awkwardly before getting a proper look at the portrait.

“Right, sorry… we were already done.”

Damon coughed. “Don’t worry, princess. I was just telling this one not to slack off. In fact, I did most of the work. You should’ve seen her—she wouldn’t shut up.”

Evangeline shot him a glare, muttering under her breath.

“I regret feeling sorry for him… that jerk…”

The work of cleaning the mansion was about done… Honestly, it was relatively easy, considering they were practically superhuman. With the strength granted by their first-class advancements, they had managed to finish scrubbing the ancient mansion in record time.

Well, everything in Lysithara was ancient—the entire city was a ruin, after all.

They left one wing untouched, only cleaning the parts they intended to use for now.

Leona created rain, so they had water.

The sun was still a few hours from setting, and with the bathhouse finally cleaned, the girls seized the chance for a proper soak—leaving Damon and Xander alone in the grand entrance hall.

For now, they had decided against sleeping in any of the upper rooms. Instead, they’d camp out near the large hearth in the main hall. It was safer that way. They didn’t know what horrors might show up at night… or if something—or someone—was already watching them.

So, the two boys began covering up the mansion’s exposed openings with wooden barricades.

With that, Damon lit the hearth, even though the sun had yet to set. The temperature had already begun to drop—Lysithara was getting colder.

The hearth seemed to run on magical energy. He tossed in a low-level mana core, and the runes carved into the stone flared faintly with heat.

He couldn’t help but marvel at the rune-craft and magitech embedded into it.

There were also heated floors and ceiling panels that allowed precise temperature control. The academy had luxuries like that, sure, but the tech here—despite being ancient—seemed far more advanced.

Soon, the girls returned, hair damp, faces relaxed. Damon and Xander washed up next. They all prepared a simple dinner and settled down.

Tonight’s meal was a modest soup made with dried jerky. The sun hadn’t even set, but the toll of the past week—endless battles, exhausting travel—had finally caught up to them.

One by one, they drifted into sleep… leaving Damon’s shadow as their silent sentinel.

The city outside darkened further. The last remnants of sunlight faded beyond the shattered skyline of Lysithara. No lamps, no torches, no magical glowstones. Just pitch-black ruin.

No light came from anywhere…

Except for a single crack in one of the old, dust-smeared windows—through which the faint glow of their fire cast a thin, wavering line across the floor.

And that small flicker of warmth… was seen.

Something rushed toward the mansion.

Its form was grotesque—lurching, fast, unnatural.

It slammed a bony, mottled hand against the glass.

Its wide, glistening eyes focused on the group inside.

Then it raised its hand again.

And slammed harder.