My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 820 - 821: Chosen

"A king..." Damon whispered to himself. The thought felt absurd. A man like him was far from royalty.

His fingers drifted upward, tracing the cold, polished exterior of the crown that sat upon his brow.

This regalia belonged to someone truly formidable.

The Keeper of False Truths.

"No. I am nothing more than a usurper. I have toppled great sovereigns and seized their belongings... yet I remain a pauper, possessing nothing of my own making."

In the end, that was the reality. It was Damon who had bested the sovereign of Lysithara by solving his enigmas. It was also Damon who had confronted the ultimate power: Ashcroft, the Demon King of Domination.

He had plundered the armor and crown from Lysithara’s ruler. From Ashcroft, he had stolen both his shadow and his unique attribute.

"I am a monarch without a realm."

Lyn stole a glance at Sithara before bowing his head slightly.

"Was your kingdom laid to waste?"

Shaking his head with a thin smile, Damon replied.

"No. I never possessed one to begin with. As I said, I am a usurper. My nature is to take, not to construct. The rulers I overthrew had subjects who truly believed in them... but I lack that foundation. My followers were typically desperate wretches I coerced and manipulated into serving my own ends."

He averted his gaze, his tone dropping to a low murmur.

"Those leaders were grand. They inspired the very people I stole. No person would ever willingly choose to follow me."

Sithara folded her arms and fixed him with a sharp glare.

"Then build one."

Damon blinked in surprise.

"You are capable of creating something magnificent too, aren't you?" she pressed on. "You might lack a vast empire... but for someone claiming to have nothing, you seem to have quite a lot."

Damon cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't have nothing. I have the spoils I’ve seized."

With a sharp shake of her head, Sithara gestured toward Matia, who stood sentinel at the tent’s opening.

"You possess a devoted knight who has stayed by your side this entire time. You have a god who looks like a babe." She turned her focus back to Damon. "And you told us to craft something beautiful. You can do the same yourself."

She pressed a palm against her chest.

"We are going to rebuild Lysithara. But Lysithara lacks a king to guide it." She drew herself up, her voice ringing with conviction. "I hereby formally name you as our king."

Damon was stunned.

Lyn rose to his feet as well, his expression still holding a trace of youthful innocence.

"All hail the king of Lysithara."

Damon’s eyes widened in shock. Lysithara had never known a king. Its administrators had always been referred to as city lords, never royalty.

Lazarak stood up to join the performance, adopting a theatrical flair.

"All hail the king."

Near the exit, Matia bowed her head slightly. A faint smile seemed to play behind her visor.

"All hail the king of Lysithara."

Thus, in an instant, Damon became the sovereign of a land that did not yet exist. This time, there was no theft. He had used no lies or trickery.

He had been chosen.

Someone had made a conscious decision to invite Damon into their vision.

Sithara beamed at him.

"Now, we are the Kingdom of Lysithara."

Damon let out a huff, shaking his head at the display.

"Stop this nonsense. Eat, wash up, and get some sleep. We have a desert to cross tomorrow."

He rose and exited the tent.

A small, lingering smile touched his lips.

"Damn brats..."

.....

As dawn broke, Damon retracted the tent back into his shadow storage. Though he had intended to rouse them at first light, a pang of guilt stopped him. Forcing children to trek through the wastes without sufficient rest felt wrong.

Consequently, he allowed them to sleep until they woke on their own a few hours later, near midday.

Technically it was still morning, but the desert gales were already scorching.

Damon sighed as they climbed onto the lesser demon. Matia moved alongside them, her presence emitting a chilling aura as frost fell from her armor, tempering the surrounding heat.

It was unusual; she didn't typically manifest her power this way.

"Hey, Sithara. How much longer until we reach Yari?" Damon shouted.

She looked up and unrolled a massive scroll—a star chart she had finished before resting.

"By my calculations, we are nine days out. However, Lyn has suggested several variables that could accelerate or delay our progress."

She looked up from the parchment.

"Would you like me to list those variables?"

Damon shook his head.

He didn't truly care about the details. He was confident they could handle whatever came their way.

"Let’s just move."

Standing atop a small boulder, Lazarak scanned the dunes with a cautious grin.

"What are our chances in a place like this? Do you expect to run into any of your acquaintances here?"

Damon shook his head.

"I doubt it. Though I’m hopeful about Yari."

Several hours passed. Inside his ascendant armor, Damon began to perspire heavily. Reaching into his shadow, he pulled out a flask of water and emptied it in a single gulp.

He glared at his shadow with annoyance.

"Hey. Is this heat bothering you as much as it's bothering me?"

The shadow gave a slight ripple, as if mocking him for such a question.

"Yeah. That’s what I thought."

Matia’s cooling aura began to wane. He had assumed she was doing it effortlessly, but the intense heat was now taxing even her.

Or perhaps it was something else.

Damon sensed a subtle distortion in the air. His lips became parched and cracked, and a phantom weight pressed down on him. Because of his massive mana reserves, he hadn't noticed it initially, but now it was undeniable.

"Is it just my imagination, or is my mana slowly draining away?"

Lazarak, who had conjured a sunshade of darkness, stumbled slightly with sweat pouring down his forehead.

"It isn't just you."

He stared at his trembling hands.

"This entire desert is a mana anomaly. Rather than a chaotic storm, it functions like a sponge, pulling mana directly out of the body."

"Hahaha..." Damon let out a bleak laugh.

This was a disaster. In this world, there was no way to replenish spent mana.

"And what happens once our mana is completely bled dry?"

Sitting atop the lesser demon, Lyn looked up, his face drained of color.

"Mana is an internal network linked to our very life force. If it is entirely exhausted while the desert continues to drain us..." He gulped. "I suspect we will face a slow, painful death."

Damon groaned in frustration.

"We need mana cores."

His expression turned grim.

"It's time to hunt monsters... or we die."