My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 845 - 846: Shamed

Within the city's walls, the Warden was a figure of absolute terror. He wielded divine authority granted by the great god Seraph Null, making his every word a decree of law. To be in his presence was a sentence in itself.

Throughout his entire existence, no one had ever dared to treat him with anything but subservience.

Possessing the power of a fourth class advancement, he was essentially a walking catastrophe hidden in human form.

How could this man have the audacity to mock him?

It was a display of both madness and sheer boldness.

Initially, it had been a source of light entertainment—like watching a stray insect buzz too loudly. However, that amusement had quickly soured into a dark malice. He wanted to watch this man writhe in agony before his life was extinguished.

It was the only way to restore his honor as a superior being and a chosen representative of the great god Seraph Null.

With a cold, cruel smile, he lifted his hand and triggered the brand. He anticipated seeing Damon drop to the floor, his nervous system shattered by the weight of divine authority.

"Kneel before me," he ordered with a calm, arrogant tone, as if he were addressing a lowly bug.

The expected result never came.

Damon didn't flinch. Instead, he just stood there with a calm, almost inquisitive look in his eyes, as if he were watching a toddler have a tantrum.

He cocked his head to the side, a mocking edge sharpening his voice.

"Was something supposed to happen?"

The Warden’s eyes narrowed in response. The question was a direct blow to his pride.

"You... how dare you remove your brand."

Damon blinked, appearing legitimately puzzled.

"Are you really asking why someone would want to get rid of a tool used to control their life?" he asked casually. "You aren’t very bright, are you?"

Once again, he was met with an insult.

The sheer arrogance in Damon's voice caused the Warden’s face to contort. His aura exploded outward, making the air so heavy it felt like it could suffocate anyone nearby.

Damon lifted his chin, completely unmoved. This level of aura was ineffective against him, despite his opponent being at the fourth class advancement.

"Your brands are not absolute. There are many ways to overcome them."

His voice rang out clearly across the arena.

This wasn't merely an act of rebellion; it was a public declaration. He wanted the spectators to see this truth for themselves.

There were other choices. Fear didn't have to be the only way of life.

The intelligent ones would begin searching for those alternatives, while those who weren't as sharp would still spread the word. Regardless, the seed of doubt had been sown.

These rumors would only serve to further Damon’s objectives.

His cult was destined to expand.

While this would certainly put the Wardens on high alert, it didn't matter anymore. The Archivist would have discovered the truth within a few hours anyway.

"Die, ingrate."

With a sharp snap, the Warden closed his parasol.

The atmosphere suddenly detonated.

Razor-sharp blades of condensed wind burst out in all directions, turning the arena into a chaotic whirlwind. Flesh was torn apart and bodies were thrown through the air. The stands were stained with blood as the roaring gale drowned out the screams of the victims.

Damon’s focus sharpened instantly.

He grabbed Evangeline with a single arm, pulling her close as she drove her sword deep into the earth. Shimmering light radiated from her armor as she braced herself against the cutting winds.

Her expression remained cold and determined.

This was the true power of a fourth class advancement—the ability to cause effortless devastation. It was merely wind, yet it had been fashioned into a tool for slaughter.

"I see," Damon whispered, his voice nearly lost in the tempest. "No wonder they claim divine authority."

This Warden was formidable, standing near the pinnacle of the fourth class. While Damon could eventually kill him, it would be a time-consuming process. He didn't have that luxury, as more Wardens—and perhaps Seraph Null himself—would soon arrive.

Despite the violent maelstrom of dust, Damon could see the Warden standing calmly in the eye of the storm, parasol in hand, looking at them with pure contempt.

Damon let out a sneer.

"That only works on weaklings."

He wrapped his hand around Evangeline’s waist and shouted into her ear.

"Eva, let go. We have to get out of here."

She didn't hesitate, understanding the situation immediately.

She ripped her blade from the ground, and together they allowed the gale to catch them, launching their bodies hundreds of meters into the sky.

The Warden looked up at them, his eyes filled with fury.

"Do you really think you can escape?"

He gave his parasol a slight turn.

The direction of the wind shifted instantly.

Blades of air began to rotate in opposite directions, creating a grinding force. It was like being caught inside a massive, celestial meat grinder.

Damon’s instincts screamed in warning. His hair stood on end as he pulled Evangeline tighter against him, his teeth gritted.

'No way.'

This was a domain.

It wasn't a fully realized one, but rather the nascent form of one—an idea manifested into reality.

He recognized the sensation, having faced the Mirror Seraph’s domain in the past.

This one was unrefined and incomplete, yet it was still incredibly dangerous.

Damon locked eyes with the Warden through the swirling brown storm.

His voice was ice-cold.

"Don’t you know? Fire goes great with wind."

He hoisted his staff.

The Staff of Carnage flared to life.

A massive blast of black fire erupted from the center of the cyclone. Shockwaves rippled outward, breaking the storm's stability as the flames fed on the wind. The tornado shattered, flinging charred bodies across the city's rooftops, streets, and shops.

Protective barriers and wards crumbled under the pressure.

The structure of the colosseum began to crack.

The storm evolved into a fire tornado, with black flames howling as they incinerated everything within. The wind shrieked, masking the cries of those caught in the blaze.

The Warden brought the storm to a halt.

The blackened corpses of his chained knights were scattered across the ground.

He had slaughtered his own forces.

It wasn't intentional, but that bastard had turned his own technique against him.

His hands shook with a mixture of rage and shame.

He had been belittled, bested, and allowed his targets to flee.

All by someone an entire rank below him.

His hands trembled as he surveyed the wreckage. Even his own skin was marked by burns; he had not been spared.

"Find them," he growled. "Find them this instant. I want them dead."

Commands were barked out as the once-immaculate Warden stood burned and humiliated within his own ruined trap.

He looked toward the sky, biting his lip in frustration.

The barrier had been destroyed.

It had been shattered by the combination of his own power and that man’s hellish flames.

"Aaaah!"

With a roar of pure hatred, he took to the sky, flying toward the area where they had landed.

He would hunt them down.

He would end them.