My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 859 - 860: Experienced With Selfishness

Damon was completely alone, having no clue when she had actually arrived.

Tracking her down had been the goal for the past few days, as the party intended to meet Abellona. Unlike Xander, however, none of his companions shared a personal history with her. She was, after all, the Princess of the Empire.

Ultimately, Xander had dispatched a formal invitation bearing all their names, hoping to recruit her to their side or, at the very least, hammer out a mutual agreement.

Damon simply hadn't anticipated her arrival, let alone being cornered by her in such a fashion.

The hand resting on his shoulder felt soft, and her scent was one he recognized.

The balcony remained deserted, occupied only by the two of them.

She leaned in closer.

"My, a love letter..." she whispered. "I never took you for a romantic."

Damon managed a weary, tired smile.

He raised the parchment slightly, staring at the two words he had inscribed.

I love you.

These words were intended for his sister.

However, Abellona had already seen them, and she clearly had no intention of departing yet.

Lacking a chair, she opted to sit on the table, positioning herself close—far too close. Her figure obstructed his view, forcing him to tilt his head back to meet her crimson eyes.

"I don’t believe in romance," Damon replied softly. "Or... I didn’t. But if we assume it exists..."

His tone was quiet and steady.

Abellona’s stare never wavered.

"After you had your way with me, you’d better start believing in romance, Damian."

A faint chuckle escaped Damon.

Right. That was the name.

It was the alias he had provided during their battle against Ashcroft. He had hoped she would never find him again, particularly since he had touched her in ways a princess would never overlook and witnessed things she would never forgive.

She wasn't going to let it slide.

Normally, he would have offered a shameless retort.

But this time, Damon remained silent.

As he penned this letter, the reality of his death felt increasingly tangible. It was no longer a distant thought or a theoretical concept.

It was imminent.

He could see the end.

It was through this clarity that he understood the truth.

The expansion of the cult was no longer the primary objective; it was merely collateral momentum.

This was what truly mattered.

Damon wasn't fueling hatred for the sake of victory anymore.

He was letting the fire rage because he wouldn't be around to witness the ashes.

That realization was even colder than raw ambition.

It was resignation, forged into a weapon.

This was the state of a man with nothing left to lose.

For some reason, that epiphany stirred a faint sensation within him.

Melancholy.

Abellona observed him for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"You know... after you stole my ring and my pride, and tried to stage your own death—among your many other crimes—I told myself that if I found you, I would make you suffer. And I expected you to try and talk your way out of it."

She looked down, her expression softening.

"I remember the man who stood arrogantly before Ashcroft, the Demon Lord of Domination. A man who knew no fear. He told me many things, many of them lies, but in his moments of sincerity... he moved me."

Her hand clenched slightly.

"He made me believe I could be something more than just Abellona of Destruction."

Damon offered a weak smile.

"I’m glad I could be of service."

Her fist tightened further.

"He also made me promise to pay him billions of zeni," she said flatly. "And a man who loves money that much would never forget to collect his debt."

Damon shook his head.

True.

She still owed him a fortune.

But it didn't matter.

He wouldn't have any use for currency where he was headed.

She hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up. Her red eyes locked onto his dark ones.

"Most of my life has been spent on battlefields," she remarked. "I’ve seen the looks on soldiers' faces when they stop caring—when their passion withers and the fire in their hearts goes cold."

Her eyes drifted to the letter.

"Some write letters to those they love, imagining that a scrap of paper can forgive their selfishness. It can’t. It never does."

Her features tightened.

"It only becomes a violent reminder of the person they used to be."

She tried to steady her trembling hands.

"You aren't the first person I've met who wants to die, and you won't be the last. But..."

Her voice wavered slightly.

"Now that it’s happening to someone I actually care about... it hurts far more than watching comrades I’ve bled with give up on life."

Damon was unsure how to respond to her frustration.

He had seen that exact look before—on Lilith’s face.

"I never truly believed in the point of living," Damon said softly. "We didn't ask to be born. We are forced into this world against our will, and some of us are dealt a worse hand than others."

He looked at her.

"And honestly... it’s exhausting."

He let out a slow breath.

"If you came here to tell me to keep living because the world is beautiful or some other nonsense, you’re wasting your breath. My death isn't born out of a fear of living."

His gaze grew cold.

"It is my way of spitting in the face of the divine. Of fate. You might find it pathetic, but for me, it is my final scream against the ultimate oppressors."

She bit her lip.

"You’re insane."

He shook his head.

"No. I was never sane to begin with."

His resolve was absolute. No amount of pleading would sway him.

So, she took the opposite approach.

"How cowardly," she spat. "You’re so afraid of losing that you’re just tapping out. You're too scared to finish the game you started because victory seems impossible."

His brow twitched.

That comment struck a chord.

She looked down at him with disdain.

"If you die now, you aren't escaping your responsibilities. You’re just dumping them onto weaker hands."

She crossed her arms.

"Running away and leaving your mess for others to clean up. How noble. You must be an expert at fleeing."

Damon’s expression hardened.

She had touched a raw nerve.

Did she truly believe anyone could triumph over the Unknown God?

It was impossible.

That entity wasn't designed to lose; it wrote the rules and could rewrite them at will.

This wasn't a defeat.

It was an act of defiance.

Abellona stood up.

"Since you’re so intent on dying, I suppose there’s no point in continuing where we left off. And here I thought we might have a future together."

Her voice turned freezing.

"Good luck. I hope your death is painless—no, actually, I hope it’s slow and agonizing."

She turned to walk away.

"Oh, wait. I should take something before I leave."

Damon turned toward her—

And she seized him.

She kissed him with sudden force.

Then she pulled back.

"I’m not finished with you yet," she said coldly. "But if you manage to live, I’ll get my revenge."

She departed.

Damon closed his eyes.

A solitary thought crossed his mind without any hesitation.

He crumpled the letter—

And it disintegrated into ash.