My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 827 - 828: Pettiness

"What is my age...?" The abruptness of her inquiry left Damon momentarily stunned.

He paused to calculate before answering,

"Well... a minimum of two hundred thousand years separates the time of my birth from yours."

Sithara’s eyes grew wide, clearly misinterpreting the context of his statement.

A span of two hundred thousand years was beyond comprehension. No mere mortal could survive such an age. Even those legendary figures who achieved the seventh class advancement lacked a lifespan of that magnitude.

"Incredible..." she whispered softly.

Damon offered no further explanation.

Strictly speaking, he wasn't being dishonest. At least three distinct eras lay between them. While Sithara belonged to the Zero Epoch, Damon's origins were in the Third Epoch.

Despite physically being only seventeen, he could honestly claim an immense temporal divide existed between them.

Such was the nature of the truth; by omitting a single detail, it could become more misleading than any fabrication.

This was precisely why Damon placed little confidence in his Eye of Veracity skill.

The truth was far too simple to manipulate.

Sithara, conversely, seemed energized by his claim. She leaned in, pelted him with a barrage of questions, and Damon found he didn't mind the interrogation. He provided answers freely.

His history was certainly colorful.

He even mentioned with casual indifference how the Goddess of Doom had once slain him, only for him to treat it as a minor annoyance when he woke up a month later.

Sithara was utterly starstruck.

It was to be expected; impressing a child was hardly a difficult feat.

Before long, Lyn stirred from his sleep. He appeared dazed at first, blinking slowly as his mind cleared. As soon as he was fully awake, he lunged to check on his sister, inspecting her for any signs of harm.

A heavy sigh of relief escaped him once he was certain she was unharmed.

Shortly after, he joined them to share the meal Damon had cooked.

During the meal, Damon reached into his shadow storage and retrieved the mana core belonging to the sand spitter, setting it down before the siblings.

The object was a polished, golden-brown sphere that emitted a soft glow, vibrating with pent-up power.

"This is the sand spitter's mana core," Damon noted calmly.

"I assumed you would want the core of the first beast you took down after reaching the first class."

The pair stared at the prize in silence.

Then, with typical childhood exuberance, they leapt up and started dancing, chanting a melody Damon didn't recognize.

With a wave of his hand, Damon forced them back into their seats, though a small, proud smile tugged at his lips.

"Now that your advancement is complete, I assume you understand how to utilize this?"

Lyn gave a slow nod.

"Yes. We know that those who have awakened can refine their physical forms using mana cores to gain permanent strength."

Damon nodded in agreement.

The children began to explain their knowledge, and to his slight chagrin, they were already well-informed. There wouldn't be much for him to instruct them on, but he didn't mind.

Lazarak walked into the tent, wearing a broad smirk.

"Congrats. This definitely merits a party."

His eyes then shifted to the food Damon had prepared.

"How could you do this?" Lazarak asked with dramatic flair.

"I can't believe you started eating without me..."

Damon rolled his eyes at the display.

"Get some sleep. We will be traveling for the next several days without any breaks."

The excitement of their awakening evaporated under Damon’s strict command. Without any complaints, they chose the logical path of survival, cleaned up, and went to sleep.

The coming dawn would be grueling.

At the very least, they had comfortable beds for now.

.....

Damon lay back on a soft cushion, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of the tent.

As the distance to Yari closed, his internal tension mounted.

'Everyone must still be alive,' he told himself.

'They have to be.'

He had been terrified of holding onto hope.

Yet, he refused to give in to despair.

.....

The location was pleasant.

More importantly, she had been fortunate to discover it—a tiny, secluded cottage far removed from the turmoil.

Sylvia’s final memory was of a fierce clash with Lilith Astranova, right before they were all swallowed by the massive nightmare.

To be fair, Sylvia was the only one who realized they would survive, provided they weren't harmed by anything outside the nightmare's dark form.

Because of this, while the world turned to chaos and others fought for their lives, she had ignored the surroundings to focus entirely on her duel with Lilith Astranova.

And despite her meticulous and careful strategy...

She had been on the losing side.

The realization filled her with deep irritation.

Being defeated by Lilith Astranova felt like an inevitability. No one expected her to win, not even Sylvia herself.

She clicked her tongue, looking at the tome hovering before her.

Like the others, Sylvia was trapped here. She had been gravely wounded by Lilith Astranova, and as the nightmare engulfed them, she had heard the same proclamation as the rest.

They were currently within the nightmare of Lazarak.

And for those conscious enough to listen, a prize had been promised.

The survivor who made it to the end of the nightmare would be granted the fourth class.

She stared at the symbol etched into the book.

'What is your scheme, ********,' she mused.

Only Sylvia was permitted to hold that memory.

She had been chosen to guard his forbidden book and the boundless wisdom it contained.

That was why she knew exactly who would arrive at her doorstep after months of waiting.

She looked at the runes inscribed on the altar and the tonics she had brewed long ago.

A familiar feeling of déjà vu took hold of her.

And perfectly on schedule—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Sylvia gave a faint smile, her white hair shimmering in the low light of her witch-like home.

Before she could give an answer, the door was thrown open with force.

A woman with emerald eyes and crimson hair entered.

The moment the threshold was crossed, the runes flared to life, launching jagged, glowing white bolts at the intruder.

The woman merely lifted her hand. A pre-cast shield flickered into view, shattering the arrows upon impact.

Sylvia didn't even flinch.

"After going through this four separate times," she remarked placidly,

"I suppose you’d be ready for it. It's a good thing I included that."

Before Lilith could respond, a bucket plummeted from the ceiling.

It landed directly on her head.

Monster excrement splashed everywhere.

Sylvia grinned.

"That, made her very happy."

It was a level of pettiness that would have made Damon proud.