My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Chapter 930: Chapter 931: Hanging Paths Below The Orchard Of Regret

His Ragebaiting leveled up. When he appeared again he was in a new region. Before he could even register anything, the world shook.

Far in the distance, many miles away, Rexagon roared and shot flames into the heavens.

“I will find you. I will crush you… even if it’s the last thing I do…”

Astral winds brushed against Damon’s skin as something that looked like a mountain with wings rose into the sky.

He glanced down at the imp hugging his legs, his expression flattening. A flicker of flame burst from his palm and the creature burned to ashes.

Seras stepped forward and grabbed his collar, giving him a sharp shake.

“Was that last part really necessary?”

Mist swallowed the landscape. Beneath them was a covered void. Trees taller than mountains loomed in the distance, their branches bearing fruits the size of houses. Above those fruits were strange nests where shadows flitted restlessly.

The entire place felt dull and suffocating. The roots of the trees were hidden from sight, while hanging vines the size of drawbridges crisscrossed endlessly through the fog.

“Where are we?” Damon asked, squinting upward as Rexagon’s distant shadow swept across the forest while it searched.

Seras lowered her gaze and steadied her breathing.

It was a good thing Rexagon didn’t know where the displacement flowers led and was too large to pass through them. Maybe if he turned human, but his pride would never allow it.

She released Damon’s collar and exhaled through her teeth.

“Did you really have to add to our woes? You could have just run without kicking his ego,” she muttered, frustration bleeding into her voice.

Damon folded his arms while the expedition caught their breath.

“Well excuse me for saving all our lives from a crazy edgy dragon. This is the thanks I get,” he replied without an ounce of shame.

Seras pinched the bridge of her nose and took a slow breath.

“Fine. Fine. You’re right.”

Damon lifted his chin slightly, arms still crossed.

“Yeah I am. Now, to my previous question if you don’t mind.”

Seras turned and glanced at Renata, who stood covered in dust and soot, finishing her count of the survivors.

Renata brushed ash from her sleeve and nodded.

“It’s a miracle we encountered a great dragon and still didn’t lose anyone.”

Damon rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Oh great Renata. Thanks for jinxing us. Now he’ll find us and a few people are going to die.”

Renata bit her lip and pouted at him, clearly regretting the comment.

“So where are we anyway?” Damon asked again, his gaze sweeping across the unsettling terrain.

Renata straightened.

“We are in a place called the Hanging Paths.”

Damon grimaced.

“I see. A terrible combination. From the name alone I know I’ll hate it.”

Wendy sat on the ground with her arms wrapped around her legs, staring into the mist.

“I regret following you here.”

Damon sneered quietly. That was what she got for blackmailing him. Still, hearing regret from Wendy felt strange. He noticed it but said nothing.

Renata pointed toward the giant fruits swaying above.

“And above us is the Orchard of Regrets. They are two different zones but closely linked. The safer one is the Hanging Paths.”

“Orchard of Regrets… I see. That explains Wendy’s attitude,” Damon muttered.

Seras stepped toward the nearest vine and rested a hand on it, testing its tension.

“We will be crossing through the Hanging Paths. Those who don’t know what it is, listen carefully. Talking is dangerous on these vines.”

Renata nodded and continued.

“The rule here is simple. The more fear you feel, the more gravity increases.”

She spoke slowly, making sure everyone listened.

“Those who hesitate feel heavier. Vines tighten when panic spikes. Some bridges slowly invert while being crossed, so don’t trust your spatial awareness. And avoid trying to fly. You’ll just die faster.”

A silent unease spread through the expedition force.

“Victims are crushed or dropped into the unseen depths. Screams echo upward for hours, which means if you scream as you die our dragon friend will find us sooner,” Renata added.

She hesitated.

“No bodies ever hit the ground. At least from what I remember.”

Seras raised her hand, drawing everyone’s attention.

“The trick is simple. Cross without stopping. No talking. Carrying unconscious people is safer than fearful ones since they can’t feel fear.”

Damon nodded, accepting the logic. His gaze drifted upward toward the giant fruits.

“Wait. What about the orchard? And if we can’t fly, why can the dragon?”

Seras crossed her arms.

“Because it’s a dragon. The rules for us don’t apply to it. And the orchard is both a blessing and a curse.”

Renata pulled a folded parchment from Lana, who rummaged through her bag and handed it over.

“According to the record Amadeus gave us,” Renata said, unfolding it.

“The grotesque fruit trees bear red pulsing fruit, or at least most people see them that way. They smell sweet and comforting,” she read, her eyes narrowing.

“Make no mistake. The fruit looks different to each person. The bigger they appear, the more regrets the person carries, and the worse the effects of eating them.”

Damon stiffened slightly. To him the fruits looked enormous, easily the size of houses.

“The forest feeds on unresolved longing,” Renata continued.

“Eating fruit grants powerful healing or buffs, which seems beneficial, but it is hardly worth it.”

She swallowed.

“Each bite manifests a regret as a physical wound later, worse than ever before.”

Damon silently decided to avoid the fruit.

“Some fruit contains memories of people you loved,” Renata added, her gaze lingering on Damon as if offering a personal warning.

“Over time regret turns into corporeal entities. The worse the regret, the more vicious and dangerous they become.”

Her fingers tightened around the parchment.

“These entities hunt their originator and anyone nearby. Killing them causes unbearable emotional pain to the originator.”

She folded the parchment.

“It says here. Never eat the fruit. If you must, never twice. Burn the orchard when possible, though it is better not to.”

Renata handed the parchment back to Lana.

“Those with no regrets suffer least, making them terrifying.”

Her voice softened as she lowered her head.

“No one alive lives regret free. We are all victims of regret.”