My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 873: Chapter 874: Limits Of A God

Seraph Null was not what Damon had imagined. He had expected an entity shaped like a man, something familiar, something comprehensible.

What he saw was utterly inhumane.

This particular lesser god was a sphere of interlocking chains, endless and layered, rotating slowly upon itself. From its core spread nine massive wings. These wings were also chained, each feather larger than a mighty oak, stretching so far into the heavens that the clouds themselves parted when they brushed against them.

The very sky recoiled.

With Seraph Null’s presence alone, Damon felt as if the world had tightened around him. The air grew heavy, his lungs struggling to draw breath, his bones screaming under an invisible pressure.

His voice echoed across the entire city.

Yet Lazarak did not respond.

He was met with silence.

All across the city, people froze where they stood, eyes lifted toward the sky. Even the flames seemed to hesitate.

Then the Chained people fell to their knees.

They knelt in awe of their god even as the world burned around them. Even as he threatened to destroy the very city they worshipped within. Their bodies trembled, yet their devotion did not falter.

Their voices rose together, calm, reverent, fanatical.

“Hail Seraph Null, the Bound God.”

“God of Chains, Warden of the Sky, Lord of the Final Gate.”

“Jailer of gods, Sealer of calamity, Master of the Locked World.”

The chant spread, flowing through the streets like a hymn. Their faith gathered, thickened, and rose into the heavens, forming a divine halo around the chained entity.

“Hail Seraph Null, He Who Forbids.”

“God of Containment, Sovereign of the Closed Path, Bearer of the First Lock.”

“Warden of Heaven, Gaoler of Eidolon, the One Who Denies All Escapes.”

“Hail the Prisoner Who Imprisons All.”

“Lord of the Eternal Cage, whose bonds is law.”

“God of Confinement, whose judgment is immobility.”

“Hail Seraph Null, Keeper of the World’s Sentence.”

“Hail the Prison God.”

Hail Seraph Null

Yes.

Damon stood before the Prison God, Seraph Null.

As a god should be, he was incomprehensible to mortals.

It was a flaw of humanity, of mortals in general, to shape gods in their own reflection. Every culture carved their deities in familiar forms, sculpting divine faces that resembled their own.

But gods were never meant to be understood.

The original old gods, who ruled before the rise of the more human new gods, looked nothing like mortals. They were amoral entities, beings that transcended concepts like good and evil entirely.

Seraph Null was a new god, yet he was made in the image of the old ones. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that lesser gods were old gods tempered with sentimentality the originals never possessed.

And from where Damon stood, he could feel it.

The wrath of a god.

How insignificant a mortal was before such an existence. Even when that wrath was not directed at him, it crushed the spirit. The feeling alone confirmed what Damon already knew.

A lesser god stood at the seventh class advancement at the very least.

The weakest kind of god.

“Lazarak, show yourself,” Seraph Null called again, his voice resonating like iron dragged across the world. “I know you are here.”

He could not sense Lazarak, yet he was certain. Lazarak was in this city, hiding like a worm.

Damon gritted his teeth.

From where he stood on the burning rooftop, he felt it clearly. If he moved even an inch, Seraph Null would turn his gaze upon him.

Still, he could not remain still.

He was the one who had spoken of rebellion. The one who taught these people to defy their god. The one who had given them something resembling liberation.

They were afraid. He could see it in every shadow, every trembling form below.

Standing amid the flames, Damon realized something bitter.

He was afraid too.

A monster of the seventh class was not something to challenge lightly. Such beings could destroy continents with ease, reshape the world on a whim.

Still, Damon moved.

The instant he did, the chains that formed Seraph Null’s body shifted. The sound of metal echoed through the sky.

The distance between them was several kilometers, yet Seraph Null’s sheer size made it feel negligible.

The clouds tore apart as the god turned his attention toward the rooftop Damon stood upon.

Then came a hissing voice, carried by the wind.

“Outsider… I see you.”

Damon’s body froze.

The raw power in those calm words crushed down upon him. His ears burst, blood trailing down his neck as the god’s aura pressed against his existence.

“You smell of him… of the dark…”

Damon clenched his jaw. He knew everyone was watching. This moment would decide whether they fought or died.

He reached over his shoulder and drew the spear. The physical manifestation of death itself.

A chain extended from Seraph Null’s wing, moving slowly toward Damon.

Damon closed his eyes and drew a steady breath. This was not the first time he had faced such overwhelming power, and it would not be the last.

When he opened his eyes, dark streaks of shadow spiraled around him.

He remembered Evangeline’s words to the Chained Knights.

“I bow before no false gods.”

He raised his hand and reached into his shadow storage, pulling forth the Staff of Carnage.

He pointed it at Seraph Null.

A black sphere of expulsion erupted outward.

Destruction followed instantly.

A massive shockwave tore through the city. Buildings crumbled. The air warped violently as space itself distorted under the staff’s effect.

When it ended, a crater several kilometers wide had been carved into the heart of the city. An entire neighborhood was erased in a single strike. Even though many had fled from the initial flames, many lives were still lost.

When the dust settled, the devastation was absolute.

But so was Seraph Null.

The chain he had extended remained exactly where it had been before the expulsion.

If anything, Damon was the one sent flying, his body hurled across the city by the recoil of his own attack. He crashed through stone and rubble, still gripping both spear and staff.

Seraph Null turned toward him once more.

“Futile,” the god intoned. “You do not know the power of a god, nor the limits of man. I shall engrain it into you through death.”

Chains surged forward.

Then they stopped.

A pair of hands grasped them.

“I know the power of a god,” a young man said calmly. “I also know the strength of man. Allow me to teach you.”

Seraph Null went still. His wings ceased their movement, his voice dropping into something colder.

“Lazarak, the traitor god. What can a peace loving failure teach me.”

Lazarak’s body dissolved into darkness, shadows crawling over his form as he hissed.

“The limits of a god.”