My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Those terrible eyes were windows into a tormented soul. His whispers infected reality itself, spreading rot through existence.

Anyone who gazed deeply enough into the abyss would inevitably find the abyss gazing back.

And yet people still sought it.

Because knowledge was tempting.

Truth was tempting.

Damon had learned something.

“Ahh… Discordia… Discordia…”

He repeated the words endlessly in madness.

His body warped completely.

Bones blackened like charred coal erupted from his flesh, forming jagged armor around a monstrous frame. His eyes bled crimson tears while elongated claws tore at his own body as though lamenting existence itself.

A corrupted entity.

The Lamenting Sage.

That was what Damon had become.

A sage because he had learned forbidden truth.

“Hahaha… hehe… hehe…”

The laughter that escaped him was twisted and hoarse.

Ashcroft stood beside the unconscious Lilith, staring silently.

“Hmmm… I thought he’d lose himself completely. Clearly I was wrong…”

The little dog sighed.

“I suppose a death like this isn’t the worst outcome. I wonder if Unknown would reincarnate me again.”

He sounded strangely casual.

From the very beginning, Ashcroft had never truly believed they could defeat the Unknown God.

He had expected failure.

Looking at Damon’s monstrous form, Ashcroft slowly raised one paw.

“At least he’ll die with dignity.”

The Lamenting Sage suddenly stopped in front of him.

Its massive skeletal frame loomed over the tiny dog.

Then the creature opened its mouth filled with jagged black teeth.

“Now what… do we do…”

The voice was distorted and echoing, like multiple beings speaking at once.

Ashcroft froze.

His eyes widened completely in disbelief.

“Yo-you… impossible…”

He stumbled backward.

“You actually managed to preserve your will?”

The monstrous sage tilted its head slightly before scoffing in a way no creature like that should have been capable of.

“It’s just a little corruption…”

The Lamenting Sage grinned.

“No big deal.”

Damon’s words made Ashcroft almost choke on air. If he still possessed a human throat instead of the body of a miserable little dog he was certain he would have coughed blood by now.

“No big deal?” Ashcroft barked in disbelief. “You absorbed enough corruption to destroy entire cities and you call it no big deal?”

The small black dog stared at Damon as though seeing him for the first time.

Who even was this monster pretending to be a man?

Ashcroft had seen countless beings fall to corruption before. Warriors, sages, kings, even demons had all eventually lost themselves once the whispers sank deep enough into their souls. Corruption was not something you simply endured. It hollowed you out from within. It twisted memories, distorted emotions, and eventually peeled away the mind until only madness remained.

Yet Damon still stood.

No… that was not entirely correct.

Ashcroft narrowed his eyes slowly.

Perhaps Damon had gone mad a very long time ago already. Perhaps the corruption merely found a mind that was already fractured enough to survive it.

The thought unsettled him.

’No,’ Ashcroft thought grimly. ’Even madness should not make this possible.’

Meanwhile Damon had already hoisted Lilith into his arms and begun moving through the tunnels with frightening speed. His corrupted body no longer resembled that of a normal human. Blackened bone protruded from his flesh like jagged armor, and his veins pulsed with a dim crimson glow beneath pale ruined skin.

Yet despite his monstrous appearance his movements had become smoother.

Faster.

Stronger.

The corruption had elevated his rank tremendously. Before this he had merely been a crippled powerless mortal trapped in a weak vessel. Now the rot flooding through his body had forcibly pushed him into the Third Class Advancement.

In Lysithara that level was not particularly extraordinary.

But for their current situation?

It was salvation.

Damon tore through the underground pathways like a starving beast fleeing a greater predator. Rotfolk lunged toward him from the darkness only to be smashed apart by swings of his twisted claw. Some were sent crashing into walls while others were trampled beneath his feet.

Nothing could stop him.

Nothing could slow him.

Yet Damon himself understood the truth better than anyone.

This strength came at a price.

Every breath he took spread the corruption deeper into his soul. Every second his thoughts became a little less stable. Strange whispers slithered through the corners of his mind endlessly muttering incomprehensible truths.

Discordia.

The word echoed again and again inside his skull.

Discordia.

Discordia.

He knew what it meant.

Damon gritted his jagged teeth and forced the voices down.

He could not afford to lose himself now.

The outer tunnels appeared ahead of them. Massive magical formations lined the walls glowing with faint blue light. Layers upon layers of security seals pulsed throughout the underground passage.

Ashcroft’s ears twitched.

“Careful,” he warned. “Those wards are designed to detect corruption.”

Damon slowed slightly. His malformed fingers twitched as he examined the runes carved into the tunnel walls.

Rune magic.

Fortunately for them Damon understood rune craft exceptionally well.

Even in his corrupted state his mind still retained the knowledge he had accumulated over many years. He crouched beside the nearest formation, black claws scraping across the glowing symbols as he altered several sequences.

The ward flickered once.

Then died.

Ashcroft stared.

“You can still do delicate rune manipulation in that state?”

Damon did not answer. Sweat mixed with blood dripped down his face as he moved toward the next seal.

The corruption made concentration difficult. His thoughts felt fractured, split between countless whispering voices. Several times he nearly carved the wrong sequence entirely because intrusive thoughts flooded his head.

Rip your own jaw off.

Tear your skin apart.

Let the abyss inside.

Damon slammed his claw into the wall hard enough to crack stone.

The pain steadied him.

Focus.

He inhaled slowly before finishing the final rune alteration.

One by one the magical wards dimmed until a path finally opened before them.

Ashcroft released a low whistle.

“Hmmm… perhaps there really is something wrong with you.”

Damon scoffed weakly.

“You’re only realizing that now?”

They finally emerged into the underground sewer system beneath Lysithara. Filthy water flowed through enormous canals while pipes and ancient maintenance pathways stretched endlessly into darkness above them.

Compared to the corruption pit this place almost felt refreshing.

Almost.

Damon carefully lowered Lilith against the wall before collapsing beside her. His entire body trembled violently now that the adrenaline was fading.

The corruption was spreading faster.

He could feel it.

Parts of his flesh no longer obeyed him correctly. His left arm occasionally twitched on its own while black veins spread higher along his neck.

Lilith stirred weakly in his arms.

Her breathing sounded shallow and uneven.

Damon immediately leaned toward her.

“Lilith.”