My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 1 The Academy's Weakest

'There are moments I wish my life had never even begun. If I didn't exist, I would never have to endure this agony.'

In the academy corridor, a despondent teenager stood before a massive bulletin board. His jaw was clenched tight and his hands were curled into white-knuckled fists, his gaze drowning in a sea of overwhelming despair.

'I failed... yet again. Right at the bottom of the barrel...'

The dark-haired youth, possessing eyes of deep sapphire, stared at the first-year quarter-semester rankings with a hollow expression. His name was anchored at the very end of the list.

Damon Grey.

'What was I even hoping for? All that grueling effort, and none of it mattered. I'm still a failure.'

Though his eyes shimmered with unshed tears, he forced the emotion back down. He swallowed against a dry throat, his frame trembling as he remained rooted to the spot, completely ignoring the sea of students flowing around him.

Lifting his gaze to the pinnacle of the rankings, the name at the top seemed to radiate an unreachable brilliance, as if belonging to a different dimension entirely.

Evangeline Brightwater.

She was the undisputed number one among the freshmen, a high-born noble gifted with peerless talent. To someone like Damon—the academy’s most pathetic student—she was an ethereal being far beyond his reach.

The hallway was thick with the murmurs of his peers, their distant chatter cutting through his thoughts and dragging him back to his grim reality.

"It looks like Evangeline Brightwater claimed the top spot once more."

"Is anyone actually surprised? She possesses a light attribute, after all."

"True. Rumor has it she might be the first freshman to achieve class awakening."

"Xander Ravencroft is stuck in third place again."

"Yeah, and Sylvia Moonveil held onto second. The top rankings haven't shifted at all since the entrance exams."

Their casual observations felt like lead weights sinking into Damon’s soul. He felt the urge to just give up—he truly did. However, walking away was a luxury he didn't possess.

'I can't afford to fail... I have to do whatever it takes... Luna’s survival is tied to my scholarship. I can't... I can't quit. I won't let them expel me.'

Surrender was impossible for Damon. His sister’s life was sustained by the academy’s financial aid. If he lost his standing, the one million zeni scholarship—the funds required to purchase the medicinal potions keeping her alive—would disappear. He refused to let that happen to Luna.

A thick lump rose in his throat. He swallowed hard, fighting his emotions as he turned to leave, his mind spinning. Each step forward felt like a battle. His thoughts were consumed by his sister’s future; they were all each other had left in this world.

'If I stop now... she dies. I don't want that...'

With his head hanging low and shoulders slumped, he trudged forward until he collided with someone. He didn't even look up before whispering a hollow apology.

"Sorry."

Before he could move past, a rough hand gripped him and threw him violently to the floor.

"You pathetic low-life! Why don't you watch where you're walking? You just ran into Xander, and 'sorry' is all you have to say?"

Damon knew that voice instantly. It belonged to Marcus Fayjoy, a blue-haired noble who functioned as the permanent shadow of Xander Ravencroft, the third-ranked student.

Xander represented everything Damon lacked: wealth, influence, and raw power. Marcus, his dedicated lapdog, was a foul-mouthed bully who enjoyed flaunting his status.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid? Do I need to beat some manners into a weakling like you?" Marcus sneered down at him.

Damon remained quiet. This scenario was painfully familiar. Being targeted by Marcus and his clique was a regular part of his life. Xander, always acting superior and detached, rarely involved himself directly, leaving the dirty work of harassing the weak to his subordinates.

"I am sorry," Damon muttered, his voice barely masking a flicker of bitterness.

He pushed himself up, attempting to walk away. He didn't have the mental energy to deal with Marcus today. He had endured enough already, yet he knew he couldn't just break.

"Grey, you piece of trash! Are you seriously ignoring me? You think you can just leave without my say-so?"

Marcus clamped a hand onto his shoulder, halting his retreat.

Damon let out a silent sigh of frustration. It was going to be another one of those miserable days. The pattern was predictable: Marcus would instigate, Damon would show a spark of defiance, and a beating would follow. It always ended the same way.

Turning around, Damon roughly shoved Marcus’s hand off his shoulder.

"Get lost... I don't have time for your games today."

Marcus’s features contorted with indignation, a vicious smile failing to hide the malice boiling within him.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you, Grey? It looks like you're headed back to the school infirmary."

Damon shifted into a defensive posture, bracing for the inevitable assault. The script was set: resistance led to pain. Marcus thrived on crushing the vulnerable, and no one was more vulnerable than Damon. Yet, for some reason, Damon’s refusal to crawl only served to make Marcus more furious.

"You still haven't learned your place, have you? Fine, allow me to remind you."

Marcus started to lunge, but before a blow could land, Xander’s cold voice sliced through the air.

"Enough."

Xander’s tone was icy and indifferent. "I came to review my marks, not to watch you squash a bug."

Damon bit his lip until it nearly bled. That casual dismissal—being viewed as nothing more than a nuisance insect—burned like acid in his chest.

'I want to be... stronger.'

Marcus, ever the loyal servant, gave a quick nod and stepped back. He wouldn't dream of crossing Xander.

Damon marched away, his fists tight enough to draw blood as rage and frustration swirled inside him. He despised them with every fiber of his being. But more than that, he loathed his own impotence. He hated being viewed as a mere bug.

That was precisely why he would never truly submit. Never.

'I am not an insect... I am not an insect... Xander Ravencroft, I'll make you regret looking down on me,' Damon whispered to himself, his words saturated with quiet rebellion. His hands shook with the fury of a common ant attempting to challenge a giant.

Yet, in his heart, the harsh truth remained: an ant cannot bring down a titan. As long as the chasm in their power remained—as long as destiny dictated their status—his anger was meaningless. To them, he would always be a bug.

The reality of his situation ate at him. No matter how much he cursed his fate, his rage alone couldn't bridge the gap between him and the elite.

Carrying that heavy burden, Damon walked out of the academy building, his resentment brewing like a slow-acting toxin. The lively sounds of his classmates faded as he moved away from the crowds, seeking the silence of isolation.

He increased his pace, keeping his head down as he headed toward the thick forest bordering the academy. He refused to let anyone witness the tears of helplessness and fury beginning to blur his vision...