My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

With the others asleep, Damon gritted his teeth.He made no sound… almost having long since grown used to being covered in his own blood.

He leaned by the wall, pulling at the bandage to inspect his wounds. Sylvia and Evangeline had used the last of their healing potions on him.

The wounds clung sticky to the fabric as he peeled it back with a calm, almost mechanical expression.

“Well, that’s gonna leave a mark…” he muttered, staring at the raw gashes.

And here he was, almost celebrating how the system had gotten rid of all his scars when he first got it…

Damon sighed. He didn’t bother trying to get up — that would be pointless. His whole body ached, but Pain Resistance at Level 3 was helpful, at least.

He had been planning to use the Ashborn skill to cauterize the wounds — he just needed to make sure the others stayed asleep.

He was sure they had reached their limits.

Opening his palm, he prepared to activate the skill, bracing himself for the surge of agony.

“You’re really good at this…” Matia’s voice drifted from beside him.

She had shed part of her armor, wearing only the awakened shell of her shattered ice armor, her fairy wings fluttering lightly behind her in the dusty air.

“Ahhh, Matia… hehe, you caught me…” Damon said with a wry grin.

She sat down next to him in the crumbling cathedral, kicking up a small puff of dust.

“You’re really good at getting people to do what you want… really good at lying too… How did you keep your voice from quaking in pain?” she asked, lowering her head.

Damon leaned his head against the pillar, his bloodied body giving off a faint, fishy smell.

“What are you on about…” he muttered.

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I never really knew what to make of you… the guy always eating alone in the cafeteria. You always forced your way into the nobles’ section — like you just wanted to get into a fight.”

He chuckled weakly. “But I had a golden ticket — the academy rules said I could be there…”

She shook her head more firmly this time.

“But you didn’t need to. I always thought you were violent… and a little bit scary, after you burned down the Evil Forest…”

Damon sighed. “I was just trying to win… Guess I was a little desperate.”

“No. You were insane,” she muttered.

He smiled faintly, blood staining his teeth.

After everything that had happened… being trapped here… she still didn’t understand him.

“I told you about my past… my home…” she said, waving her hand awkwardly.

“So I… I want to know yours. If you want to tell me, of course… I’m not prying.”

Damon closed his eyes. His past — there was a lot of it, for a mere sixteen years.

“There really isn’t much to tell…” he started slowly.

“My parents died early, so I lived on the streets of Valerion. I used to run errands for a smuggling ring. Sometimes I didn’t shut my mouth, so the boss or the higher-ranking members would teach me a lesson…”

He chuckled darkly. “Well… not that I learned. Sometimes I starved. Sometimes worse.”

His eyes narrowed, memories gnawing at him.

“Honestly, I should have died. But there was this elf…” he said, voice trailing.

Matia’s eyes sharpened.

“He freed you, then?”

Damon shook his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips.

“No… he didn’t free me. If anything, he exploited and manipulated me. Everything he told me was a lie.”

A long silence. Damon pressed a hand against his face, a realization dawning slowly.

“Come to think of it… he told me I had no talent for the sword…” He let out a hollow laugh.

“That’s probably another lie, huh?”

Matia looked at him seriously.

“But you’re stellar with the sword.”

Damon sighed. “Took me all this time to realize that… But you know… I hated him.

And now… I can’t be so sure anymore.”

Matia clenched her fists, thinking of her own father.

She hated him too — had prayed for his death every single day of her life.

Damon smiled faintly.

“But now that he’s dead… all I can think about are the times he saved me. Even if it was twisted and toxic… he was still someone I wanted to prove myself to.”

Matia understood him now. Deeply.

She, too, had always wanted to prove that being a woman did not make her weak.

Damon leaned back.

“He taught me a lot… about surviving the streets… about people… how their minds work… Even if he was scum.”

Matia watched him carefully.

“What about your father? What was he like?”

Damon met her gaze. “My father was someone I loved. Respected. Looked up to…”

He hesitated, pain flickering in his eyes.

“I would be ashamed to look at him now… because I grew up to hate people like him.”

The others, supposedly asleep, listened silently in the background, holding their breath.

Matia frowned, confused.

“Why?”

Damon exhaled heavily.

“My father was stalwart. Steadfast. He had principles he never abandoned. I hated people like that… because they reminded me too much of him… while I became the exact opposite. Dishonorable. I would forsake any principle… How could I ever look him in the eyes again?”

He lowered his head, as if weighed down by the ghost of his dead father.

“I would steal. I would lie. I would do anything to survive. Push comes to shove… I was human garbage, without an ounce of nobility left.”

He bit his lip, trembling slightly.

“How could I not hate people like that… when I had failed to become one myself?”

His voice cracked slightly.

“Maybe that’s why it was so easy to believe I had no talent for the sword… because a sword was one of the few things that reminded me of him. Maybe… the only thing I learned from him.”

Matia’s wings fluttered gently in the cold, musty air.

“Do you… like the sword?” she asked softly.

Damon scoffed.

“I like what it does to my enemies… My father said a sword was a noble weapon… but the truth is — like all weapons — it’s just a tool for killing. There is no nobility in violence. Or war.”

Matia shook her head firmly.

“That’s not what I saw today. A sword can be used to protect people. Your father… he would have been proud of you today. You risked your life to save all of us.”

Damon chuckled, a rare, fragile smile tugging at his blood-streaked lips.

Matia sat up straighter, determination burning in her eyes. She knelt by his side, wings gleaming in the darkness.

“So let me give you a miracle…” she whispered.

She placed her hand over the stump of his right arm — where it had once been.

“Let me give you my wings.”

Her wings spread wide, frozen for a moment — then began to crack, shards of ice and frost falling like frozen glass around them.

Damon’s eyes widened in horror as her wings shattered.

“Wait… huj—”

But it was too late.

Matia’s wings fell from her back, shattering completely — sacrificing her ability to ever fly again.