My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 721: Chapter 722: I Want One

The smoke rising from the distance didn’t seem to bother Damon too much. He walked calmly around the edge of the water toward one of the ruined bridges.

He had been anxious, concerned about Sylvia. He could have waited at the bridge, but it was pointless. Sylvia would not come that way. The young elf girl seemed to be following the same route as Lilith Astranova.

That was why Damon was here. According to his estimation, Lilith had passed through and gone to the main island.

“What’s up with her… at least drop by and say hi.”

He didn’t understand why Lilith hadn’t even bothered to meet him, just gone about her own thing. But this was Lilith—he didn’t need to worry about her.

“Even without me, she’d be fine.”

That thought made Damon smile sadly, though there was a soft glimmer of melancholy in his eyes. He wondered how a world without him would look. How long until he was forgotten?

It was the sad thing about death, no matter who you were, when people died there was only a short period of mourning. After that, life just went on. Time didn’t stop because you died.

The world didn’t really care, and your loved ones eventually moved on. Maybe that thought brought him some comfort.

Damon wasn’t alone. Wendy and Waton followed him, watching while Wendy eagerly asked Waton questions. Then she stopped and nudged Damon with her elbow.

“Why so sad?”

Damon smiled, shaking his head with a small chuckle.

“Do I look sad?”

She didn’t quite understand him, but before she could say anything, a faint presence appeared in her senses.

A young woman with long white hair trudged forward, her armor gleaming faintly like the moon. A few elves followed behind her, each several steps back. She wore a calm and almost deadpan expression, until she lifted her head and spotted Damon’s dark hair.

A small smile bloomed across her beautiful face, almost like the radiant moon shining down its gentle light upon a dark world.

Without a moment of hesitation, Sylvia ran toward him. Damon let out a sigh of relief as she closed the distance and leapt into his arms, not caring that the world was watching through the broadcast orbs. She was a princess, after all, one who should maintain her decorum, but that didn’t stop her.

Damon caught her in his arms, spinning her slightly before setting her down on her feet.

He half-expected the elves behind her to complain, or at least say something, but to his surprise, they were quiet.

No, that had to be reiterated, they were quiet. That was like saying the sun had fallen from the sky. These were elven royal guards, racist supremacists who hated him.

Why would they stay silent while their frail, reserved princess hugged a vagabond commoner with nothing to his name?

That was excluding his greatest sin, not being an elf, but a lowly human.

“That’s weird,” Damon muttered softly.

“What’s weird?” Sylvia asked with a soft smile.

He shook his head slowly. “Eh, it’s nothing. I was looking for you. You were a lot harder to find than I thought.”

Sylvia brushed her hair aside. “You were looking for me?”

Damon took a deep breath and nodded silently.

Sylvia glanced to the side, noticing an unfamiliar face.

“Who is that?” she asked coldly.

Damon didn’t even look. “Oh, that’s Waton. He’s the prince of Valtheron. Didn’t you already know that?”

She gave him a deadpan look.

“I know who he is. I’m talking about the woman next to him.”

Damon sensed trouble in the air. Sylvia was sweet, she wouldn’t usually be hostile, nevertheless he could sense faint traces of killing intent radiating from her.

Wendy, of course, picked up on it instantly. Her eyes narrowed.

Damon gestured to her. “That’s Wendy.”

Wendy stepped forward, not backing away from Sylvia. The elves behind Sylvia began sweating profusely at the sight of the princess’s slight irritation.

Wendy looked Sylvia directly in the eyes.

“I’m Wendy— and he and I are going to have babies together soon.”

Hearing those words, Sylvia’s hands trembled. Her elf ears twitched slightly, her eyes lowered, and a cold, icy light flickered in them. She turned to Damon with a trembling smile.

“She’s crazy, right? That’s not true… right?”

Her voice was conflicted, as if she’d just been betrayed.

Damon scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Well… it’s a long and complicated story…”

Sylvia’s eye twitched. Turning back to Wendy, she smiled, softly, mockingly.

“Oh, is that so? Soon? Why not now?”

She placed her hand gently on her abdomen, her tone sweet but venomous.

“Like I am right now. You wouldn’t understand the joy of carrying a child, would you?”

Damon felt his legs go weak.

“This stupid woman…” he muttered.

He glanced up at the floating magic orbs and waved his hand nervously.

“It’s not like that at all! This is a serious misunderstanding!”

Sylvia didn’t even look at him, mocking Wendy with a sneer.

“I’m pregnant.”

Damon immediately shook his head.

“No, she’s not.”

Sylvia pointed straight at him, her voice sharp.

“He’s the father!”

Damon raised his hands defensively.

“No, I’m not!”

Wendy glared at him, then at Sylvia.

“I want one.”

“No, you don’t! And she’s not pregnant!” Damon resisted the impending doom.

He walked to Sylvia, making sure the orbs caught his serious expression, and grabbed her arms.

“Sylvia, you’re not pregnant. You aren’t having a baby.”

“Tsk.” She clicked her tongue, looking away.

Damon shook her lightly, trying to bring her to her senses.

He cleared his throat, addressing the world watching through the orbs.

“She’s not pregnant. Hell, she’s a virgin! This was all a prank to make things difficult for the elf king, for sending those lousy, talentless bums to try to assassinate me!”

He pointed at the orbs.

“Everyone knows I like older women. I mean, if it was the elf queen, that’d be a different story, I’m innocent!”

Even while clearing his name, he couldn’t resist rage-baiting Kadelas.

Sylvia stopped, glaring at him. She walked up close and looked him dead in the eyes, shaking her head.

“You don’t like older elf women. In fact, it’s proven elf women older than three hundred have a musty scent. You want nothing to do with old women.”

She threw her own mother under the carriage.