My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

A figure rode on a stag, its form towering as it crossed the grass plains. The figure seemed to be wearing armor and was covered with a hood.

There were some dried bloodstains on his armor as he sat steadily on the back of the stag.

In the sky above him, the sun hung high. However, what was easily notable were the two animals in the sky — a raven with pitch-black wings and a squirrel with scarlet fur. These two creatures seemed to fly circles around the man.

The man was naturally Damon.

He had been traveling for days. After some days, he had finally made it back onto the golden roads.

And luckily for him, he had also healed most of his wounds.

He still had quite a journey if he was going to make it back to his village. But that was fine.

There was a thin smile under his face. He wondered how his village had changed over the years. Were the people from his childhood still there?

Did it still smell the same? Did the distant mountains and streams over the forest and valleys look as beautiful with the rainbows?

Now that he was on his way there, he was feeling nostalgic.

He had too many bad memories there, but right now only the good ones came forth — which was a surprise since he knew how his mind worked.

He wondered if this was just him psychologically building this up before he brought them down — that way his rage would reach its peak.

Still, it didn’t matter. Now his heart was serene.

He could imagine his mother’s voice, her scent… how soft she felt… her pinching his cheek… the soft scent of food in the kitchen.

He could almost feel his younger sister sneaking her veggies into his plate.

Their father’s dark hair… the smell of sweat mixing in with the morning air when he practiced swordsmanship… or his voice as he reminded Damon of the importance of the basics.

Damon’s heart was warm for the first time in years…

The stag carried him onto the golden road. Content presented by *.

As the name suggested, this was a golden road… well, not actual gold. It was golden because it was relatively safe from dangers.

The golden roads referred to any road that was deemed safe to a degree — or rather, as safe as you could be in the world of Aetherus.

As Damon crossed the golden road, he let out a sigh of relief.

He had been battling monsters these past two days. Well, it wasn’t that bad… just the regular.

Goblins, kobolds… nothing strange and eldritch… no creepy evil spirits or extremely intelligent horrors.

As the stag galloped forward… Damon’s shadow perception picked up a moving caravan on the way.

This type of caravan was not unusual — people traveled in groups because it was safer.

They hired adventurers to protect them and chipped in to pay them.

Damon himself had traveled in such caravans when he was a child fleeing his village.

It was honestly the only way to stay relatively safe on the golden roads without strength.

The adventurers could not protect everyone from monsters and bandits — it was just how the world worked.

“Nobles have greater security while commoners just get by.”

Damon didn’t care about this caravan… he had better things to deal with.

The stag easily caught up to the caravan.

As he approached, the adventurers in the caravan seemed alert.

Except one group who didn’t seem all too bothered — but Damon could tell they were looking at him.

As his stag reached the first carriage, the adventurers were even more guarded.

Damon’s ascendant armor did look expensive, so they must have mistaken him for some noble’s knight.

He wondered which lord’s territory this was.

Still, Damon stopped his stag. While he was sure this was the way to his village… he couldn’t be sure. He had not been there in years, and he had sort of lost his way after being chased into the wilderness by elves.

Damon’s action of stopping caused the adventurers to pull out their weapons.

“Identify yourself…”

He didn’t say a word — he merely pulled out his newly acquired adventurer’s ID, which was more of a badge, and lifted it up to them.

They narrowed their eyes.

A large man put down his giant sword.

“An adventurer… you registered in Valerion… you’re a rank two…”

Damon nodded his head, his hood hiding his face…

“Hey, Twilight, check it out — another aura farm has joined…”

He heard a voice from the group of adventurers who had not been bothered to move.

He had no idea what they were talking about, but he paid them no mind — focusing on a merchant who had rushed forward from the safest part of the caravan.

“Greetings. I am Emil Payda. I am heading this caravan… how may I be of assistance to you?”

Damon nodded slowly, the raven Croft slowly landing on his shoulders.

“I want to confirm something… is this the road to Ronel?”

The merchant glanced at the adventurers.

“Yes, this is the road to Ronel. We’ll be crossing through dire lands to get there… are you traveling there, sir?”

Damon understood what he was trying to convey.

He was trying to say the road was dangerous for a lone traveler and there was safety in numbers.

More importantly, if Damon was an adventurer joining them, that was just free and extra protection.

Damon nodded slowly. He wanted to know one more thing.

“Have you heard of a small village by the name Little Town?”

The merchant glanced at the adventurers, then nodded.

“Yes… that is one of our major stops before Ronel.”

Damon smiled. He wasn’t really going to Ronel. The reason he asked was because Ronel was the closest large city to his no-name village.

‘I see… that damn village still exists.’

The merchant rubbed his palms together.

“If you’re going that way, why not join the caravan? The road is long and dangerous. We have many people in this caravan — there is safety in numbers…”

Damon glanced at the caravan. He didn’t really care. He would be fine on his own.

He moved his stag. The merchant raised his hand.

“There are bandits and monsters along the road. The last caravan was destroyed… many people died. A lone man can’t pass safely alone… you can’t make it to Little Town these days without numbers… even now many will die.”

Damon glanced at the people in the caravan. Many of them were just commoner families — even children…

He seemed to recall when he had made such a journey with his sister Luna… they had barely survived.

He had been about to leave when he suddenly thought of something.

‘If I protected this caravan… would that be something beautiful? Will this kindness be reciprocated?’

That was the thought that had entered his heart.

He recalled the philosophy of Valarie Sunwarden… and the kindness of Carmen Vale.

Valarie had asked him to create something beautiful… while Carmen had told him kindness was reciprocal.

He glanced at the carriages and the long road ahead.

“I shall join… only until Little Town.”