My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 860 - 861: She Knows

The two of them appeared battered and exhausted as they warped away from a massive wing, the surrounding air shredded by the force of the movement.

Thud.

They tumbled into a pile of discarded garments tucked away in a corner of the city.

Sylvia let out a low groan as sharp pain radiated through her frame, but she bit her lip, stifling the cry before it could be heard. She was determined not to let Lilith catch even a hint of her vulnerability.

Lilith rose slowly, using the back of her hand to wipe away the crimson stream beginning to flow from her nose. Despite the rough landing, her actions remained poised. A few marks stained her skin, yet her beauty remained entirely intact.

“Figures...” she whispered. “Stealing the elixir was never going to be that simple.”

It was only natural that things hadn't gone as planned. Success was never meant to be so easy.

They had successfully infiltrated the Black Tower and reached the specific floor housing the elixir. What they hadn't counted on was the personal appearance of Seraph Null.

Sylvia gritted her teeth, her hands curling into tight fists at her sides.

“Let’s go again. This time—”

“No,” Lilith snapped, cutting her off before she could finish. “We need to head back. By this time, everyone should have already congregated.”

Sylvia shifted her gaze, glaring at the distant silhouette of the Black Tower. Finally, she exhaled and gave a reluctant nod. Both Seraph Null and his Chained Knights would be on high alert now.

“So, what's the move?” she questioned, her voice steady as she observed Lilith’s reaction. “Are we regrouping with Damon?”

Lilith gave a slow nod, her crimson locks dancing in the breeze.

“We are. I’m fairly certain he’s already finished writing that gloomy suicide note by now.”

Sylvia stood up, brushing her white hair back over her shoulder.

“Are we intending to snap him out of it?”

“It’s a waste of time. If it failed before, it won't work this time either,” Lilith answered, turning her back to walk away.

Sylvia lingered for a heartbeat, looking at the book hovering silently before her, then followed after her companion.

They had been fortunate. Though their combined strength was formidable, fleeing was the only option against a seventh-class entity.

While Sylvia felt concern for Damon, a small, unsettling part of her was actually eager to see him again.

Unconsciously, she ran a hand through her hair once more, smoothing the strands as if the gesture mattered.

Her focus returned to the book.

“How much of a butterfly effect have we triggered this time?” she asked softly.

She felt a tiny portion of her elven life force being drained—a familiar ache that tightened her chest—and then the revelation appeared.

“Hmm. You’re being quite generous lately,” she whispered.

...

Despite his gloomy state of mind, Abellona’s words had resonated with him.

Damon felt a slight relief, even if the heaviness in his heart remained. He understood now that he couldn't just die and dump his burdens on someone else. Not yet.

Beyond her advice, the situation was looking up. Familiar faces were arriving daily, and word was spreading through those who recognized one another.

Since Xander resided in the city’s most prestigious district, it wasn't a feasible gathering spot for everyone. Only the elite could access that zone. Damon hadn't gone there yet, though Yuka von Penrose had stayed close to Emilia Highgon as she usually did.

With Yuka acting as a messenger, they established a meeting point in a more reachable part of the city.

They utilized codes and historical references that were only meaningful to those acquainted with the Third Epoch.

Events like the War of the Five Sages—well-known to scholars, adventurers, and academy students—the Peasant Revolution that reshaped the world, and even the recent Demon Wars were used as signals.

To the Chained Knights who monitored the messages, it seemed like gibberish. To those who knew, the meaning was clear.

By combining Damon’s and Abellona’s networks, bringing everyone together was simple. Abellona took the lead in issuing the summons, as her reach far surpassed Damon’s.

Renata arrived on the second day.

True to her nature, she didn't waste a second. With clinical precision, she transformed the disorganized crowd into structured units with specific duties.

Those with utility and healing abilities were turned into a medical corps. Combat mages were organized into a battalion. Tanks were assigned to the front lines. The assassin classes were tasked with intelligence gathering, while those with management skills handled logistics.

Everyone was integrated into the strategy.

However, there was still a resource being left untapped, and Renata approached Damon to discuss it.

She stood behind his seat, her hands clasped loosely behind her back.

The night felt eerily still, as if the city was bracing for the coming storm.

“This place seemed so quiet before we arrived,” Damon remarked, staring out at the city lights.

Renata disagreed immediately.

“It was, and remains, a breeding ground for segregation and cruelty based on tribalist and racial prejudice. I wouldn't define that as peaceful.”

Damon let out a long breath.

“What is peace to you, Renata? To me, it’s just the status quo. The same people doing the same boring things every day, the usual noise. The locals here see that as peace, even if it's built on exploiting people like us. That is their normal.”

She sighed heavily.

“Then they will receive exactly what they have earned.”

Damon could sense the icy temper beneath her words, a sliver of killing intent she couldn't quite mask. She must have endured a great deal.

“And what will they receive?” Damon asked in a low voice. “A city consumed by war? Thousands of casualties? It doesn't change anything. War is always the same.”

He gave a soft, dry laugh.

“It’s ironic. We are the children of Aetherus. We truly live up to the title of war-born. We’ve made conflict so common that it’s just another routine. I suspect that once we leave here, we’ll just be thrown into another demon war.”

Renata looked up, watching him closely.

“Is this because of Prince Waton’s death? That alone shouldn't be enough to start a war. If anything, the goddess races hold the upper hand in the war games.”

Damon shook his head.

“That isn't it. It's just a feeling. From the moment we get back, everything we know will start racing toward an unavoidable end.”

She observed him silently for a moment, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Is that why you’ve been so weary?”

Damon crossed his arms over his chest.

“I think the word you’re looking for is depressed.”

“It would be disrespectful to say that to my lord,” Renata said, bowing her head slightly.

“But I’m not your lord, am I? You already figured that out,” Damon pointed out. “What I don't get is why. Are you just waiting for the right moment to kill me?”

Renata didn't flinch. She had known for a long time that he wasn't Ashcroft. Despite their similarities, the distinctions were obvious to her.

“No. Why would I ever betray you?” she replied calmly, as if she had the answer ready.

Damon leaned back.

“You’re letting your opportunity slip away. Or are you afraid I’ll reveal that you’re a demon hiding among us?”

Renata’s face remained stone-cold.

“If you did that, the danger to you would be much greater than the danger to me. I could easily point the finger back at you. I could even claim you murdered the real Damon Grey and took his place. Lord Ashcroft.”

Damon laughed.

This woman was something else. She really did have him pinned down.

“Then why haven't you done it?” he asked. “I’m not Ashcroft. I’m just a thief who stole his power.”

Renata paused. She hadn't expected such blunt honesty, but it seemed he had figured her out just as well.

“To my knowledge, Ashcroft is a legend. The demon lord of domination is a figure demons worship, but he is a darkness I don't truly know. You, however, are a darkness I recognize. I’ve known you longer. You are someone I can understand.”

She smiled, her voice taking on a softer tone.

“Damon Grey. A human becoming a demon. I know your origins and how you became what you are. I understand you, at least a little. I learn more every day. You have a taste for tamberry. You adore your sister. You care for your friends but hate admitting it. Your closest bond is with Leona. Your heart belongs to Lilith Astranova, even if you struggle to see those feelings as more than just desire.”

She took a slow, steady breath.

“You are also a relative of Grand Duke Brightwater, making you the very last person anyone would ever take for a demon.”

Damon was genuinely impressed. Her knowledge was more extensive than he had imagined.

“So, what happens now?” he asked.

Renata took a deep breath.

“Nothing. I made my decision when I chose to follow you. It doesn't matter if you are Ashcroft or not. My choice was the follower, the dominator. The prophecy never specified it had to be Ashcroft; that was just how people interpreted it.”

She leaned in close, whispering into his ear.

“Besides, you’re actually quite cute. I don't mind at all.”

Damon turned to her, his expression deadpan.

“You realize I could kill you right now and just call you a demon.”

“You certainly could,” she said playfully. “But as you can see, I’m still here. And you wouldn't do that to such a lovely senior, would you?”

Damon gave a small laugh.

“You’ve been holding back on the teasing this whole time, haven't you?”

She gave him that familiar, provocative smile.

“It’s my little guilty pleasure.”

He looked at her seriously.

“So what’s your deal, then? You know my life. I’m curious how a demon lived under the noses of the goddess races and even joined an ancient noble house.”

She shrugged, leaning back and casually sitting on his belongings.

“It’s a long tale. Are you certain you want to hear it?”