My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 842 - 843: A Hopefully Ideal

The Chained District served as the city's next tier, though residing there demanded a heavy price. One had to pay a premium simply for the right to exist within its borders—unless, of course, they were a local.

Gaining entry proved simple enough. Damon merely handed over five rank three mana cores at the checkpoint. This portion of the metropolis was noticeably more sanitary, structured, and packed with inhabitants.

Lofty residences lined the thoroughfares, featuring expansive windows that remained polished and unbroken. Fully armored Chained Knights conducted patrols, their movements rhythmic and disciplined. Armed civilians wove through market stalls and workshops, while the local labor exchange buzzed with fervor. Beneath the surface of this activity, Damon detected the subtle, lingering scent of iron and blood in the breeze.

Expanding his shadow perception, he noticed narrow streams of people moving in a singular, deliberate direction. They were all gravitating toward a structure that resembled a massive gladiatorial arena.

Damon moved forward, dissolving into the shadows and surfacing beneath a lamp post adjacent to the throng. He emerged silently, staying blended with the darkness at the base of the pole.

Positioning himself behind the crowd, he crossed his arms to observe.

He was well aware of the city’s obsession with gladiatorial combat. Even at the Grinding Gate in the distant outer city, facilities for training such fighters existed.

Having secured a map of Yari, Damon realized the true scale of this massive city. To this point, he had not personally run into any members of his original group. Nevertheless, he was certain he wasn't the sole survivor. Whispers of demon-like entities appearing in the city had begun to circulate. That was a promising sign, as Demonkin were not supposed to exist in this current era.

Following the flow of the crowd, he used mana cores to pay his entrance fee. Every interaction here demanded currency. It was no mystery why the majority of people stayed behind in the Grinding Gate.

The coliseum’s interior was cavernous. Tiers of segregated seating rose high, supported by massive pillars at every corner that held the roof aloft.

In the heart of the structure lay an open floor, ringed by Chained Knights gripping shimmering weapons. Damon’s eyes narrowed as he looked toward them. The pressure there was immense.

That specific zone was off-limits.

“What the hell are they protecting?” he whispered.

“Not what. Who.”

Damon shifted his gaze.

Standing next to him was a man possessing fairy wings. A fairy. A slave brand was seared into his neck. He had a stout, round belly, a thin mustache, and carried a bow with a quiver of arrows resting on his hip.

A fairy archer.

The man gave a small nod of greeting.

“You look like a newcomer. Just made it in from outside the district, eh?”

Damon chose not to reveal any vulnerability, yet he gave a brief nod. He tightened his arms across his chest and leaned back slightly.

“Yeah. I’ve traveled from a long way off.”

The man offered a soft smile before letting out a quiet chuckle.

“I see. Welcome to hell. It is manageable if you know how to navigate it, or if you possess the kind of power that makes hell leave you alone.”

Damon let out a slow breath.

“Even heaven is hell if you are weak. And hell can be heaven if you have power.”

“Hahaha. Well said, friend. Well said.” The fairy gestured toward the heavily guarded zone Damon had been eyeing. “They possess power. That is why they reside in heaven even while standing in the middle of hell. Those are the nobles from the city’s elite sectors. They are well-protected, as you can see.”

He stopped, his wings giving a slight twitch.

“The security is extra tight today because of the Evangel.”

“The what?” Damon asked, snapping his head up.

The fairy’s wings flickered softly.

“A radiant protector known as the Evangel. She arrives like a beam of sunlight, purges evil, and then disappears.”

Damon’s eyes thinned.

He had heard nothing of this, despite having his own spies embedded in the district.

His visible shock was caught by the fairy.

“Well, it’s no wonder you’re unaware of her,” the fairy added nonchalantly. “She is likely just a myth. The locals probably invented her. It isn't uncommon for superstition to take root in the hearts of those without hope. Can you believe that, Poppycarp?”

He leaned in, a bittersweet smile touching his lips.

“A savior bringing light, curing the wounded, and fighting for justice. But justice belongs to the strong. It isn't a gift handed to the weak.”

Damon’s expression grew cold.

In his mind’s eye, he envisioned a specific golden-haired girl trying to argue with him about the nature of justice, only for him to tear her arguments apart.

“Eva,” he muttered under his breath.

She couldn't be that foolish. Did she not realize that if she became too much of a nuisance, Seraph Null himself would hunt her down and destroy her?

She stood no chance against an opponent at the seventh class advancement.

Damon was certain she knew the risks. Evangeline was born of high nobility, the princess of one of the world's most influential houses. Their grandfather was a terrifying old monster at the seventh class. Without him there to shield them, was she truly attempting to defy something of that magnitude?

‘Where did she learn to be so stubborn?’ he thought with a trace of bitterness. It was the kettle calling the pot black.

He looked back at the fairy, a frown deepening as a sense of dread filled his chest. It had to be her. She had to be alive.

“Where can I find this Evangel?”

The fairy let out a laugh.

“You’re looking for the light, the Evangel? Hah hah hah. Why do you think so many people have gathered here?”

Damon’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“She is a legend,” the fairy explained, “but the rumor is she vowed to execute the VIPs here today. And because she keeps her word, she is expected to show up.”

He surveyed the crowded coliseum.

“Everyone is here to see her. They want to know if the stories are real or just another cruel lie.”

Damon slowly looked toward the arena floor. His senses detected hidden arrays, suppression spells, and complex killing formations integrated into the very building.

“It’s a trap,” he whispered.

The fairy nodded, his smile fading.

“Of course it is. If she appears, she proves she is a hero who keeps her vows. If she fails to show, the Chained Knights will keep claiming she was a fabrication. A mere myth. And those who placed their faith in her will start to doubt.”

A note of sorrow tinged his voice as he finished.

Damon posed one last question.

“Do you believe?”

The fairy gave a gentle smile.

“Even hell requires a bit of light. Even those who are broken wish to be mended.”

At that exact moment, a dazzling beam of light surged into the coliseum.

The entire arena was bathed in a brilliant golden glow.

A familiar aura that Damon recognized instantly exploded outward. Standing in the center of the arena was a woman in shimmering armor decorated with golden accents. Its surface gleamed like polished mirrors.

The legendary ascendant armor known as Duskglass.

And the golden ascendant who wore it.

“Eva.”