My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 873 - 874: Limits Of A God

Seraph Null was far from the entity Damon had envisioned. He had anticipated a figure resembling a man, something recognizable and easy for the human mind to grasp.

The reality was a sight of pure inhumanity.

This particular lesser god manifested as a massive sphere composed of interlocking, layered chains that rotated with a slow, mechanical rhythm. Nine gargantuan wings extended from its central core. These wings were similarly bound in chains, each individual feather dwarfing a sturdy oak tree, reaching so high into the heavens that they sliced through the clouds during every movement.

The firmament itself seemed to shrink back in fear.

Damon felt the world constrict around him from the mere presence of Seraph Null. The atmosphere turned thick and heavy; his lungs fought to intake air while his skeletal structure groaned under the weight of an invisible, crushing force.

The deity’s voice boomed, echoing across the span of the entire city.

Despite the call, Lazarak offered no answer.

Only a heavy silence followed.

Throughout the urban sprawl, the populace froze in place, their gazes locked onto the sky. Even the raging fires appeared to pause in their destruction.

Suddenly, the Chained people collapsed to their knees.

They knelt in profound awe of their deity, ignoring the fact that their world was incinerating around them. Even as he promised to annihilate the very sanctuary where they offered their prayers, their devotion remained unshaken, though their frames shivered with terror.

A collective voice rose, blending into a reverent and fanatical chorus.

"Hail Seraph Null, the Bound God."

"God of Chains, Warden of the Sky, Lord of the Final Gate."

"Jailer of gods, Sealer of calamity, Master of the Locked World."

Like a sacred hymn, the chant flowed through the streets and intensified. Their collective faith thickened into a tangible force, ascending to the heavens to form a divine halo around the metallic entity.

"Hail Seraph Null, He Who Forbids."

"God of Containment, Sovereign of the Closed Path, Bearer of the First Lock."

"Warden of Heaven, Gaoler of Eidolon, the One Who Denies All Escapes."

"Hail the Prisoner Who Imprisons All."

"Lord of the Eternal Cage, whose bonds is law."

"God of Confinement, whose judgment is immobility."

"Hail Seraph Null, Keeper of the World’s Sentence."

"Hail the Prison God."

Hail Seraph Null.

Indeed.

Damon stood in the presence of the Prison God, Seraph Null.

As befitting a divine being, he was fundamentally beyond mortal comprehension.

It was a common failing of humanity and all mortal life to envision gods in their own image. Every civilization had historically chiseled their deities into familiar shapes, giving divine faces the features of their creators.

In truth, gods were never intended to be understood.

The ancient old gods, who held dominion before the ascension of the more humanoid new gods, bore no resemblance to mortals. They were amoral forces, existences that functioned entirely outside the concepts of good or evil.

While Seraph Null was classified as a new god, his form mirrored the old ones. It was perhaps more precise to view lesser gods as old gods who had been softened by a sentimentality the original beings never knew.

From his vantage point, Damon could feel it radiating outward.

The pure fury of a god.

A mortal felt utterly trivial when faced with such a being. Even when that anger wasn't focused on him, the sheer pressure shattered the spirit. This sensation confirmed Damon’s suspicions.

At the very least, a lesser god possessed the power of a seventh class advancement.

The lowest tier of divinity.

"Lazarak, show yourself," Seraph Null commanded once more, his voice sounding like the grinding of iron against the fabric of reality. "I am certain of your presence."

He could not pinpoint Lazarak’s location, yet his conviction was absolute. Lazarak was lurking within this city, hiding away like a common worm.

Damon clenched his teeth together.

Standing upon the scorched rooftop, he realized that if he shifted even a fraction of an inch, Seraph Null would lock eyes with him.

Nevertheless, he could not stay paralyzed.

He was the catalyst for this rebellion. He was the one who had instructed these people to defy their master and had offered them a semblance of freedom.

They were terrified; he could sense it in the trembling shadows and the shaking figures in the streets below.

Surrounded by the glow of the fires, Damon faced a harsh truth.

He was terrified as well.

A seventh-class monstrosity was not an opponent to be taken lightly. Beings of that caliber could wipe out entire continents or reshape the geography of the world on a whim.

Despite this, Damon moved.

The moment he stirred, the chain-link body of Seraph Null shifted. The clatter of metal resonated through the atmosphere.

Though they were separated by several kilometers, the god's gargantuan proportions made the gap feel nonexistent.

The clouds were shredded as the deity turned his focus toward the rooftop where Damon stood.

Then, a hissing voice drifted on the wind.

"Outsider... I see you."

Damon’s limbs locked up.

The sheer weight of those whispered words bore down on him. His eardrums ruptured, and blood began to leak down his neck as the god’s aura exerted pressure on his very soul.

"You carry his scent... the scent of the dark..."

Damon tightened his jaw. He realized the eyes of the city were on him. This single moment would determine if they would resist or simply perish.

Reaching behind him, he gripped his spear—the literal embodiment of death.

A single chain detached from Seraph Null’s wing, snaking slowly toward Damon.

Closing his eyes, Damon took a rhythmic breath. This wasn't his first encounter with overwhelming odds, and it certainly wouldn't be his last.

When his eyes snapped open, dark ribbons of shadow began to whirl around him.

He recalled the declaration Evangeline had made to the Chained Knights.

"I bow before no false gods."

He thrust his hand into his shadow storage and pulled out the Staff of Carnage.

He aimed it directly at Seraph Null.

A black sphere of expulsion was unleashed.

Instantaneous ruin followed.

A titanic shockwave ripped through the urban landscape. Structures turned to dust. The air itself warped as space was distorted by the staff’s power.

When the energy dissipated, a crater spanning several kilometers had been gouged into the city's center. An entire district had been wiped out in one pulse. Despite the evacuations, many lives were snuffed out.

As the debris settled, the destruction was total.

But Seraph Null remained unyielding.

The chain he had extended hadn't moved an inch from its original path despite the blast.

If anything, Damon was the one affected, thrown across the city by the sheer recoil of his own strike. He smashed through stone walls and piles of rubble, still desperately clutching his spear and staff.

Seraph Null adjusted his gaze toward him again.

"Futile," the god declared. "You are ignorant of divine power and the boundaries of mortality. I shall teach you those limits through your own demise."

Chains lunged forward with sudden speed.

Then, they were halted.

A pair of hands reached out and caught them.

"I am well aware of a god's power," a young man remarked with a calm tone. "I also understand the potential of mankind. Let me be your instructor."

Seraph Null became motionless. His wings stopped fluttering, and his voice turned icy.

"Lazarak, the traitor god. What could a peace-seeking failure possibly show me?"

Lazarak’s form began to melt into the dark, shadows slithering over his skin as he hissed back.

"The limits of a god."