My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

The pain racked his body. His head felt heavy. His skin was damp with a sticky sensation—he couldn’t tell if it was blood or water.

He didn’t know if he was underwater or on solid ground.

His Water Celebration skill did promise he couldn’t drown.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. His vision adjusted to the surroundings. It felt like hammers were smashing against his skull, again and again.

The place was unfamiliar. It was dark—or wasn’t it? He couldn’t be sure, since he could see just as well in darkness. Still, the depth of the shadows confirmed it—this place was dark.

The darkness here was both heavy and oppressive. The kind that made people unease.

His eyes drifted upward. A high ceiling stretched above, lined with runes carved into the stone.

He groaned, forcing himself to sit up—

Something smashed into his body. Arms wrapped tightly around him with a soft, muffled sound.

It was warm. Soft. A little damp.

White hair brushed against his cheek—familiar white hair.

Her scent was unmistakable. It wasn’t the scent of gardenia like Lilith had, but it still held a beautiful fragrance.

This was Sylvia.

“Ahh… Sylvia…”

“You’re okay… you’re okay…” Her voice was calm—or at least, she tried to sound calm. But it was low, a whisper, as if she feared that any loud noise might invite danger.

He raised a shaky hand to touch her. She was still wet from before. His memories returned in broken flashes—the entire party dragged into the monster-infested depths, all to escape the Keeper of False Truths.

He turned his head.

The others were there, all watching him with anxious expressions.

Leona held his hand. A single tear clung to the corner of her eye.

Her lips quivered, but she didn’t say anything. Or rather, she couldn’t—she was forcing back the flood of emotion. She covered her mouth to muffle the sound.

He glanced around at their surroundings. It was still dark. They appeared to be underground.

At the center, Evangeline gave off a soft glow—her armor shining with her magic.

She wore it in the Awakened Shell form, more like a guarded tunic than proper armor. It was light, only covering the essentials.

The place looked like a small island of wreckage, jagged remains of walls and buildings scattered around them. Damon could make out the things that had been dragged here, now stuck in the rubble.

The air was damp, filled with the scent of moss and water.

Xander looked at him, visibly relieved to see him conscious.

Matia’s face was hidden behind her helm. She was growing more stalwart with each day, but from the way she clenched her fists, he could tell—she was either relieved… or deeply worried.

Sylvia slowly let him go, her grey eyes sweeping over his body.

“Are you feeling better? I… I didn’t know what exactly to heal, so I just… I did everything I could. I’m sorry if it wasn’t enough…”

Her voice was soft. But come to think of it, he wasn’t bleeding. Just sore.

He nodded and tried to stand, legs still sluggish. They felt like lead.

He stumbled—and fell forward.

His face landed squarely on Sylvia’s chest plate.

“Sorry…” he muttered, flustered.

Sylvia said nothing. She just held him, her expression filled with worry. And why wouldn’t she be? He had just faceplanted into her chest.

She hoped the metal didn’t hurt him.

He shook his head.

Once back on his feet, he scanned the area again. His eyes were already accustomed to darkness, but Evangeline’s light still lit the area.

Only then did he notice it—faint traces of blood.

He ignored it. It must’ve been from his previous injuries.

The ceiling above didn’t just have runes. There were murals—faint, shattered ones. Part of them led off into the darkness, far beyond Evangeline’s reach.

Wherever they were, it was unknown. Submerged, maybe even forgotten.

He sighed. Swimming out would be such a pain.

Still… it seemed he was the only one who had been unconscious.

“Where… are we, exactly…” he muttered, to no one in particular.

Sylvia bit her lip, hesitating.

But it was Evangeline who answered, releasing several floating spheres of light into the gloom.

“We’re in some unknown underground part of the city… Most of it is flooded… and we don’t know the way out.”

Damon sighed. With his luck, he hadn’t expected anything good to come from jumping into the green waters without a plan.

But at the time, it had been a desperate choice.

The Keeper of False Truths… he was that much of a monster.

A horror so vile, even other monsters fled from him.

That was the only option left—to escape into the unknown.

At least… the Keeper didn’t follow them.

Speaking of the Keeper—

“Valarie…”

His hand shot to his waist. He felt for the pouch—relief hit when he pulled out the small velvet container.

Inside it, a pair of delicate, feminine lips. Valarie Sunwarden’s lips—the only part of her that remained after the rot… and her death.

They were still. Unmoving.

“Valarie…” he whispered again, gently.

She offered no response.

The others stared at him.

“What—” Sylvia quickly placed a hand over his mouth, whispering urgently.

“Don’t talk too loudly… we might attract something.”

Xander seemed tense, backing away. His spear pointed at the dark waters.

Damon narrowed his eyes, gently removing Sylvia’s soft hand from his mouth. The elf girl’s exquisite face never left his.

“What’s going on…” he asked, the dread crawling back into his chest.

Matia, who had been silent all this while, finally spoke.

“You’ve been out for two days… it’s good to have you back. But…”

Xander’s gaze shifted to the still waters, his spear at the ready, balanced on uneven wreckage.

“We’re trapped. And we’re surrounded by monsters…”

Damon looked toward the water. It was dark. Calm. Nothing moved. Not even a ripple.

He didn’t trust it.

He closed his eyes and extended his Shadow Perception, letting his senses spread into the gloom beneath the surface.

What he saw made his face pale.