My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Evangeline tried to explain.

She really did.

Her lips moved quickly, her hands gestured, and words poured out in a rush, but there was no proof to support any of it. The only evidence anyone needed was the baby in Damon’s arms.

Her face turned beet red as she struggled to defend herself.

Then Damon made it worse.

He stepped closer to her, glanced down at the baby, and said gently,

“Come, Ranar. Go to mommy.”

It was as if he had given the child permission.

Ranar immediately stretched her tiny arms toward Evangeline.

Every argument died on Evangeline’s lips.

She instinctively took the baby, and the resemblance became painfully obvious. The hair, the eyes, even the way the child blinked. Murmurs spread through the hall.

Evangeline slowly realized, with growing horror, that Damon had just ruined her reputation without trying.

At that moment, Lilith Astranova approached in a flowing red dress and stopped in front of him.

“You have been gone for three years,” she said, studying him carefully. “And you return with a baby. Whose child is this?”

Damon opened his mouth to say Eva, then paused. A smile spread across his face as he smoothly took Ranar back into his arms.

“This is Ranar. She is mine,” he said with an easy grin. “I did not kidnap her, if that is what you are thinking. Sure, she looks nothing like me, but she is not the odd one here. I am. I do not even look like my mother. But she does. Look at her. Classic Brightwater genes.”

Evangeline and the others stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

“You have a daughter. That poor child,” Evangeline muttered, shaking her head.

“He has a daughter. That unfortunate baby,” Xander said under his breath.

“That baby needed our help,” Leona whispered.

Damon glared at them.

“You all said the quiet part out loud.”

Lilith sighed and held her temple. Nearby, Abellona maintained a strained smile.

Then came the question everyone was thinking.

“Who is the baby’s mother?”

Damon’s expression shifted. His tone turned somber as he bit his lip.

“Who do you think?”

They did not need long to guess.

He gently handed Ranar back to Evangeline.

“Here. She is your problem now. Good luck.”

Evangeline took the baby automatically and began rocking her.

“What is wrong with you? Do not even think about going anywhere without her.”

Damon glanced at Xander, whose wedding had been thoroughly overshadowed.

“Oh right. Congratulations on your wedding, Xander. Looks like I beat you to fatherhood.”

Xander scoffed and brushed his hair back.

“It is not a race. And congratulations on fatherhood, Damon.”

Damon turned to Emilia Highgon.

“I am so sorry about this,” he said earnestly.

She misunderstood him.

“It is fine. I did not mind the interruption.”

“Interruption? That is not why I am apologizing,” Damon replied with a puzzled look.

Xander sighed.

“He is apologizing for the fact that you had to marry me.”

Damon smirked. Xander knew him too well.

He stepped up to the bride, placed a hand gently on her shoulder, and said in an overly emotional voice,

“Forgive me.”

He was about to continue when he felt a cold gaze on him.

He turned.

Sylvia was staring at him with a blank expression.

Damon gave an awkward wave.

She whispered, “I want one too.”

His lips trembled.

Over the next several minutes, people lined up to speak with Damon, and for all intents and purposes, he completely hijacked Xander’s wedding.

Eventually, after greeting what felt like half the nobility, he managed to slip away for a moment alone with his uncle and grandfather.

He noticed Sera was not anywhere in sight.

And for some reason, that disappointed him more than he expected.

They sat around a long table in a spacious war room. A massive map covered most of its surface, marked with tokens, inked borders, and hastily drawn lines that spoke of shifting fronts and desperate strategies.

“Welcome back home,” his uncle Cassian said, watching him closely. “It seems I should congratulate you in advance for reaching the sixth class.”

Damon frowned slightly. He had not thought himself anywhere near that threshold, yet the certainty in Cassian’s tone made him reconsider.

“Enough of that,” his grandfather said, leaning forward with a stern expression that did little to hide his concern. “Why don’t you tell this old man where you have been all this time?”

“I have been unconscious in the Sky Continent for the past three years. I only woke up three weeks ago and had to find my way back. What is happening? What is the situation with the war?”

Cassian lowered his gaze to the map.

“The war is the least of our worries right now. Those Outsiders have begun releasing more of their kind, and we have been suffering heavy casualties.”

Damon folded his arms and exhaled slowly.

“Then Ittorath is free.”

“Not yet,” his grandfather replied. “They have been gathering in Lysithara. For now, we have a secret agreement with the demon race to work together.”

Damon’s brow creased. That was unexpected. Things had to be far worse than he imagined for such an alliance to exist.

Cassian noticed his expression and shook his head.

“I understand how you feel. You must hate demons as much as Luna does, but we have no choice. This was actually proposed by the Temple.”

Damon remained silent. In truth, he did not feel strongly about demons anymore. Not when he himself was more demon than man.

“Does the Temple have some trump card,” he asked quietly, “or are they just expecting everyone to march to their deaths?”

His grandfather smiled faintly.

“I would expect no less from my grandson. Yes, they do. The god of this world has awakened, and as of this moment, we are all subject to his will.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“God of this world?”

“By that, I do not mean the Goddess of Doom,” the old man clarified. “But he acts on her will. Which means we are fighting with divine guidance.”

He paused, and for a brief moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

“The god known as Aetherus. A god of war. Long ago, he was gravely wounded and fell into a deep slumber for ages. Now, he has awakened.”

Damon kept his face neutral. Aetherus was powerful, yes, but one minor god would not shift the balance against transcendent Outsiders.

“I assume he will not be dealing with all of them on his own.”

Cassian shook his head.

“If it were that easy, we would not be locked in a stalemate while our enemies grow stronger by the day.”

A dull ache formed behind Damon’s temples.

“They cannot take Lysithara. Even in ruins, the city is very much alive. Its denizens do not take lightly to Outsiders.”

“That is true,” his grandfather said. “As far as we can tell, Lysithara itself is resisting them. The entire place has become a battlefield.”

Damon tapped a finger lightly against the table as he thought.

“If Ittorath is free and still in Lysithara, then he either cannot leave or has a reason to stay. He and the Outsiders must be locked in conflict with the city’s inhabitants.”

The Grand Duke smiled.

“Yes. That is correct. They are caught in a prolonged battle. Our plan is to let both sides exhaust themselves. That gives us time to search.”

Damon looked up.

“For what?”

Cassian leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“For reinforcements. We are searching for a place called the Tomb of Lesser Gods.”

Damon did not react outwardly.

“The Tomb of Lesser Gods is said not to be a burial ground, but a place where lesser gods slumber. Long ago, Lord Aetherus had a brother who rebelled against the Goddess. When he did, he sealed away the other gods who fought against him. His name has been erased from history.”

Damon nodded slowly as they recounted the story of Lazarak. He listened as if hearing it for the first time.

In truth, he knew exactly where that tomb was.

He also knew they could never be allowed to enter it.

It was his base of operations.

The enchantment keeping the lesser gods asleep was tied to Lazarak’s Lake of Tears, and that mechanism was now effectively in Damon’s hands.

Everything had converged on him, yet he did not know which move to make.

His goal had always been the Pillar of Conflict. Deliver it to the Unknown God, receive his reward, and leave this world with the embodiment of conflict itself.

But nothing felt simple anymore.

He still held resentment toward the Unknown God, yet he understood a hard truth now. He was no longer a child. There was no defeating an absolute being.

’Should I betray the Unknown and call upon Doom instead?’

If he did, what would stop the Goddess from tearing him apart the way she did Ashcroft?

Surely Ashcroft had once thought the same thing.

It had not ended well for him.

“How long do we have?” Damon asked quietly.

Cassian’s expression darkened.

“Not very long.”