My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 834 - 835: Cult

In lawless regions where authority only exists to contain the chaos rather than stop it, acquiring information was the most vital currency.

Damon had discovered during his early tenure in Valtheron that crime was essentially its own organized institution.

The behavior of the Valtheron knights was straightforward: they maintained order in the necessary sectors while completely ignoring the city's more shadowed districts.

Because of this neglect, the local syndicates established their own sets of laws, ensuring they never provoked the wrong people.

Since the Valtheron Empire operated under the same principles, Damon was well-acquainted with the mechanics of such places and their unspoken rules of engagement.

Securing all this for the price of a single rank three core felt like an absolute bargain.

In this era, cores were the primary store of value. These inhabitants seemed to lack a standard currency system; perhaps the concept of banking was yet to be conceived in this zero epoch. The world, after all, was still in its infancy.

“Hehehe... we have arrived,” the scrawny information broker remarked, slowing his pace as he guided Damon’s group into a desolate corner of the Grinding Gate.

Halting beside the man, Damon stared down at the manhole cover at their feet. He gave a sharp nod before meeting the broker's eyes with a subtle, thin smile.

“And you are the only one who knows about this spot?”

“Yes... just me,” the broker blurted out, his hands rubbing together nervously.

“The place is uninhabitable. A beast tunneled through the earth and nested there. Since the Chainbearers refuse to handle it, the area was simply abandoned. Anyone with the means has already fled the Grinding Gate.”

Damon tilted his head. The story sounded far too plausible to be a fabrication.

“So, it is a forgotten place,” he whispered.

“Excellent.”

With a casual motion, he raised his hand and struck downward.

The broker collapsed before a gasp could escape his throat, his limp form hitting the pavement with a heavy thud.

“Now, truly no one knows.”

Damon turned his gaze toward Lazarak, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“Is there any progress on the seal?”

Lazarak grinned mischievously, tossing the branding seal between his hands as if it were a mere trinket.

“I have already dismantled it and claimed it as my own. In terms of magic—or anything else, for that matter—Seraph Null could never hope to rival me.”

Approaching Lyn and Sithara, his expression softened slightly as he lifted the seal.

With a deliberate, forceful press, he applied the seal directly over their existing brands.

The old marks vanished instantly, replaced by dark chain sigils. Though they looked the same, their fundamental essence had shifted entirely. The power vibrating within them no longer belonged to Seraph Null.

It was now the power of Lazarak.

As the new brands took hold, Lazarak’s aura surged briefly, sending ripples through the air before it settled.

He grinned.

“This is quite an effective method for gathering followers.”

Turning back to the unconscious broker, he slapped the man awake.

The broker woke with a violent start, trying to scramble away on instinct, but Damon’s grip tightened on his collar, hoisting him back up.

“Be still,” Damon commanded tonelessly. “We are offering you an invitation to something magnificent.”

The man went rigid, shivering under the weight of Damon’s stare.

Keeping his eyes locked on the broker, Damon reached into his shadow storage and pulled out a rank four mana core.

The sight of the gem immediately calmed the broker’s breathing.

His greed was screaming louder than his fear.

Damon pointed toward the fading mark on the man's neck. Lazarak stepped forward, pressing the modified seal onto the flesh.

A sharp hissing sound filled the air as the new sigil burned into place.

Damon cleared his throat, gesturing toward Lazarak with a formal air.

“Behold the great god of darkness, Lazarak. He has arrived to liberate the forgotten souls of this realm from the tyranny of the wicked Seraph Null. You have been chosen to be guided by his hand.”

The broker’s breath hitched.

He looked at Lazarak, his hand trembling as he touched the spot where his old brand had once been.

“A... a god?”

“Indeed,” Damon whispered with a slow, predatory tone.

“A deity far superior to Seraph Null.”

Damon’s eyes scanned the man’s skeletal frame—the protruding bones and sunken eyes of a man broken by the struggle to survive.

“We are offering you the chance to join our worship and spread the gospel.”

The man wavered.

Even with the brand removed, he was still hesitant.

Damon added calmly:

“You will never suffer from hunger again. The Wardens who track your every step will no longer be a threat. Under the great god Lazarak, we grant you freedom.”

Lazarak blinked, momentarily surprised by Damon’s pitch, but he remained silent. If he intended to reclaim his former glory, this was the necessary starting point.

The broker’s eyes shook with uncertainty.

“And if I refuse?”

Damon smiled.

“Then we execute you.”

The man’s face broke into an instant grin.

“All hail the mighty god Lazarak!”

Just like that, the cult was established.

The first convert had been secured through a perfect balance of reward and threat.

Lazarak beamed with excitement as his aura swelled once more, faint but clearly expanding.

Damon nodded in approval.

“Good. Follow us. From this moment on, you will act as our representative.”

He then turned to Lazarak, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I doubt a single seal will suffice if we intend to brand millions.”

Lazarak let out a joyful laugh, nearly bouncing with energy.

“Do not worry. With the assistance of Lyn and Sithara, I can mass-produce them easily.”

“Us?” Lyn asked, caught off guard. “I mean... we would be honored to assist.”

The broker wiped beads of cold sweat from his forehead.

He wondered exactly what kind of madness he had just stumbled into.

His gaze lingered on the shimmering rank four core.

With that, he could live like a king for a year, or perhaps even buy a way into the Inner City.

And they had simply handed it over.

‘Just who are these people?’

Every single one of them exuded an aura of extreme danger and power.

They began their descent into the gloom, venturing further beneath the city’s foundations.

A guttural growl suddenly vibrated through the corridor.

The broker froze, the hair on his neck standing up.

“The monster... it’s right here...”

“What terrible luck,” he hissed under his breath.

“What a fortunate coincidence,” Damon countered from the front.

“So, this is the beast that haunts these depths.”

He snapped his fingers.

“Matia. Eliminate it.”

The broker didn't even have time to blink.

A sudden, biting chill filled the tunnel.

Then, the sound of blood splashing against the stone echoed.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, the broker gasped.

The monster that had terrorized the underground for years was dead.

Just like that.

He swallowed hard, his heart racing.

“Who... who on earth are these people?”