My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Six hours had passed and Damon was still droning on and on. He talked about logistics, the names of troops he did not even know and had merely overheard in passing, what he had read about dragons, how he had formulated a plan without ever revealing what that plan actually was, the happenings within the campsite, his time in the Duhu Mountains and even the Whispering Forest.

At this point everyone was mentally exhausted.

Damon had droned on and on about every little nonsensical detail.

Those who had once been fuming with rage had long since burned out, the person tasked with recording the events of the meeting had hands that were now shaking uncontrollably while his head throbbed from being forced to endure six straight hours of absolute nonsense.

He was technically doing as they commanded. In a way that could only be seen as such. When in truth, he was just stalling.

Everyone just wanted him to stop talking.

The High Templar finally took a deep breath.

”Enough. That’s enough. Just shut up.”

”Tell me what happened at the end, just the end. I don’t want details, gloss over the damn thing if you have to.”

Damon nodded slowly, feeling his mouth dry after six hours of weaponized rambling.

”I came, I saw, I defeated.”

And he ended it there.

”Not that brief. Just tell us what we want to hear damn it!”

The old Templar, a man who normally seemed to have transcended worldly affairs and petty mortal emotions, was now fuming in pure rage. His face was red, spit flew wildly from his mouth as he openly cursed Damon’s entire generation while everyone else merely watched in silence.

Damon placed a hand over his chest, acting offended though saying nothing at first, merely shaking his head in visible disappointment.

”Your Excellency, I am an esteemed member of this tribunal. I am Holy Child of the Temple of the Goddess of Doom, in fact I have even conversed with her personally. I am her proud messenger who has carried out her divine will and yet you insult me.”

Of course everyone thought it was complete bullshit.

Except something happened that no one expected.

There was no flash.

The crystal remained still.

And suddenly the room fell into an intense silence so heavy that even breathing felt difficult.

His words echoed inside their minds.

Everything Damon had said was true.

And yet it was also pure sophistry.

He had not said he was the Holy Child of the Goddess of Doom.

No.

He had very specifically said he was the Holy Child of the Temple of the Goddess of Doom because after all the title had been granted to him by the Temple.

Then he claimed he had conversed with the Goddess.

Which was also true.

Even if she was not exactly on his side.

Furthermore he called himself her messenger.

Again true.

Though her message had never been meant for humanity.

It had been for the Unknown God.

Of course Damon had said all of this intentionally.

After all.

He wanted to lure something out.

Then suddenly a flash of light filled the room.

A figure made entirely of dull golden light appeared before everyone and immediately Damon felt something so overwhelming that his very instincts screamed at him.

Its presence was so impossibly deep Damon could not perceive its limits.

He had only ever felt this level of danger from three entities that stood beyond reason.

The first was Ashcroft.

The second was the Keeper of False Truths.

The third had been Lazarak.

Yet even then this presence felt far more intense than the peaceful and subdued aura Lazarak once carried.

The moment Damon looked upon this being... this thing...

He felt the vestiges of life itself.

He felt all his struggles come rushing back to him with terrifying intensity.

Every moment he had clawed desperately for survival.

Every wound.

Every hardship.

Every refusal to die.

And alongside that came something far more primitive.

A violent desire.

Conflict.

The instinctive urge to struggle.

To fight.

To survive no matter what.

Damon felt this more harshly than anyone else because his entire existence had been one endless struggle against death itself.

This sensation...

This was the sensation of the world itself.

This was Aetherus.

The world.

This was its physical form.

All the plants, the forests, the seas, the mountains, the skies above, the winds that moved across continents, every living thing that existed.

All of it was him.

And all came from him.

Then the massive golden form began collapsing inward.

Its vast presence condensed until eventually it took the shape of a man.

His appearance was beautiful.

Golden eyes that carried within them the brilliance of the sun itself.

Skin pale and flawless.

Golden hair adorned faintly by flowers and leaves which slowly dissolved into particles of light until only shimmering golden locks remained.

His appearance was now almost elven.

Beautiful beyond mortal comprehension.

Even the mana within the world itself seemed to resonate in harmony with his existence.

Then he turned his gaze toward Damon.

It felt as though he were peering directly into the deepest corners of Damon’s soul.

Every person in the room immediately fell to their knees.

Every single one.

Without exception.

The pressure was simply too overwhelming.

Yet Aetherus paid no attention to any of them.

Slowly he walked toward Damon.

Then he reached out.

And placed a hand against Damon’s chest.

The moment he did every rune carved around Damon’s heart shattered instantly.

Or rather...

Every rune concealing his Divine Spark.

Then Aetherus leaned closer and whispered softly.

A single tear fell from his eyes.

”Brother... you’ve returned. I knew our goddess would make you anew.”

At that exact moment the Divine Spark left behind by Lazarak inside Damon began resonating violently with Aetherus.

It was as though two fractured halves of something ancient had finally reunited after an eternity apart.

Damon had expected many things.

Suspicion.

Interrogation.

Perhaps even conflict.

But this...

This was not one of them.