My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 877 - 878: High Prophet

The initial line of defense had crumbled, leaving the apostles preoccupied with their own fierce engagements.

Deep within the tower, he sat in a secluded chamber draped in hanging chains, focused on a hovering projection.

The chained knights were in full retreat, attempting to fall back and bolster the second defensive line. However, attempting to withdraw while under pursuit proved disastrous. For every soldier who successfully reached safety, twenty others were cut down with their backs turned to the enemy.

Executing a retreat remains one of warfare's most treacherous maneuvers, and attempting one without a meticulous strategy was sheer folly.

"Their strength exceeds my initial estimations," he remarked, his voice carrying a cold, gravelly tone.

It was a bitter reality he loathed to acknowledge. The lowly, branded subjects he had dominated for centuries had transformed into a formidable, organized force that grew in number by the second.

Because Seraph Null was on his side, he had allowed himself to become complacent. Yet, even Seraph Null had failed to realize that the minor god Lazarak was assisting the rebels.

In this current epoch, victory in war was dictated by two factors: superior tactical armies and the support of a potent god.

Since both sides possessed a god, that advantage was neutralized. However, the opposition was hardly a proper army; they were, at best, a battle-hardened mob. They lacked experience as a cohesive, structured military unit.

They hadn't the luxury of time to master complex battlefield maneuvers. Their formations remained erratic, making them far more proficient at hit-and-run guerrilla tactics than maintaining a steady, large-scale advance.

Had it been otherwise, they would have smashed through to the second defensive line already.

He took a slow sip of his drink.

The glue holding this disparate group together was their leadership. These individuals provided the necessary strategic direction.

The red-eyed fae woman was clearly a veteran of many wars. The horned man with bat-like wings, responsible for the death of the chained Apostle, was also a threat, possessing an attribute specialized in control.

There were many others of note.

However, the true catalyst for this chaos was that black-haired wretch who constantly flickered between shadows.

That individual seemed to hold a total perspective of the battlefield, pulling the strings of the entire engagement.

Lightly tapping the arm of his throne, he spoke.

"This conflict won't conclude swiftly. My god and theirs will be locked in combat for a significant duration. Meanwhile, they will attempt to fortify the ground they have already seized."

He continued to dissect the rhythm of the battle.

"They will resume their push in a few hours, while their momentum and supplies are still high."

A twisted smirk crossed his face, casting a chilling aura throughout the room.

This was the sovereign of the chained people, the one known as the High Prophet.

The right hand of god.

.....

Damon observed the advance as they navigated through a field of corpses, both friend and foe. This was no longer a battle on open ground. As they neared the second defensive line, the urban environment provided the enemy with ample cover.

Crucially, the second line was bolstered by magical wards and barriers. It was a formidable defensive hub, shielded by thick barricades and energy screens.

"They're going to turtle up now. We have to take down that barrier."

Turning around, Damon looked toward the mages and archers trailing behind him.

"Move out. Let's go."

A female mage, clutching a wooden staff topped with a shimmering gem, hesitated and tilted her head in confusion.

"Wait, we’re leaving? Shouldn’t we capitalize on our momentum and hammer the second line with a full volley?" she asked, her skin coated in grime and dried blood.

"No," Damon replied with a slow shake of his head and a frown.

"The structures in this city are far more delicate than modern architecture. This specific zone offers no protection. It worked for a surprise strike, but it’s a death trap for a defense."

He didn't offer more details. Understanding his logic, the group nodded and waited.

"What is the next move?" someone inquired.

Damon leaped down from the pile of debris.

"We regroup with the main body and set up our own defensive perimeter."

Activating his brand, he signaled for the others to pull back.

By the time he returned to the former enemy line, Abellona had already decided to halt the forward momentum.

Damon found her speed in erecting war tents to be quite remarkable. Without resorting to threats of execution, he knew he couldn't command such obedience, yet she did so with natural ease.

It wasn't merely her royal status; she was a seasoned general of war.

He entered a captured command tent to find her.

She was currently inspecting a soldier whose armor was marred by heavy impact dents.

She gave Damon nothing more than a brief nod as he walked in.

"Their current barrier is formidable. It appears to be a siege-grade barrier, similar to the ones protecting modern cities," she noted quietly.

"A direct assault would be a bloodbath. I could use the natives who joined us as fodder, but I find the idea of discarding part of my forces based on their origin repulsive."

She tightened her fist.

Damon folded his arms over his chest.

"And yet, the thought crossed your mind. After all, they might just be illusions while we are the only real ones here."

He let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"You’re far too soft. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't think twice about using them as collateral."

A small smile played on her lips.

"But you haven't done that either. You hold as much authority here as I do. So, what has shifted since that night?"

Damon glanced away, letting out a weary sigh.

"The only thing that changed is that you ruined my chance to write a very touching goodbye."

She sighed in response but offered no comment.

"I trust you have a method for breaching that second line," she stated.

Damon looked down at the tactical map laid out on the table.

"I do. But breaking the barrier is only half the battle. They still have reinforced barricades and magically enhanced shields."

Abellona crossed her arms.

"So, you do have a plan."

Damon gave a slow nod, his expression turning cold.

"You need to coordinate Lilith Astranova and Sylvia Moonveil to work alongside Renata Malcrist to dismantle that barrier."

He gestured slightly with his hand.

"Sylvia can pinpoint the structural flaws. Lilith has the ability to nullify sections of it, and Renata can drain its overall integrity."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Hmm."

Damon continued, "Collapsing the entire thing is impossible, but we can force an opening in one sector."

"That isn't what I'm questioning," Abellona remarked. "Aren’t you and Lilith Astranova close? Why are you asking me to be the messenger?"

Damon bit his lip, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"Well... I suspect Lilith might be slightly upset with me."

"I can’t imagine why," Abellona said, glaring at him with her arms still crossed.

He bit his lip again, trying to tune out the fading sounds of skirmishes outside the tent.

He let out a deep breath.

"Because she discovered I was intending to... well, you know."

"Kill yourself," Abellona finished bluntly.

She let out a scoff.

"You need to handle your own problems. I’m staying out of it."

Damon shook his head.

"Fine. I’ll speak with Lilith. But for now, here is where I need you. Assign the ground charge to Xander and Emilia Highgon."

He noticed the faint redness and bruising on her neck.

"Xander is a tank—perhaps the finest we have. With him leading the vanguard, we can keep losses to a minimum. He’s not easy to kill."

She shifted her stance.

"Let me guess. You want me to spearhead an aerial strike the moment the barrier fails."

He nodded in confirmation.

She rubbed her temples, exhaling sharply.

"I never anticipated fighting alongside demons. Life certainly has a way of being unpredictable. Very well."

Damon nodded and prepared to leave.

Now came the task of finding Lilith Astranova.

He extended his shadow perception and, after a few moments, located her inside a nearby tent where she was assisting Sylvia in treating a wounded soldier.

Teleporting to the tent's exterior, he waited for them to finish. As he stood there, he watched the sky where the gods Seraph Null and Lazarak clashed in a distant, world-shaking struggle.

Both deities were avoiding direct interference with the mortal forces below. Either one possessed the power to annihilate everyone if they chose to intervene.

Even so, the stray feathers falling from Seraph Null caused catastrophic destruction wherever they landed.

The tent flap shifted, and Lilith emerged, carrying a bucket filled with water and blood-soaked bandages.

Despite the heavy scent of iron in the air, the faint fragrance of gardenia still lingered around her.

Seeing Damon, she paused momentarily before walking straight past him with a neutral, unreadable expression.

Damon sighed and followed after her.

She remained silent until he finally spoke.

"Can you stop ignoring me?"

She shook her head.

"I’m not ignoring you. You simply hadn't said anything. I assumed whatever reason you had for being here wasn't of any importance."

Damon felt a wave of awkwardness; she wasn't entirely wrong.

"So... you’re mad at me, aren't you?"

She came to a halt, her eyes icy.

"Why would I be mad? It’s your life. I have no say in how you end it."

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Ahh... I just wanted to ask if you..."

"I’ll do it," she cut him off before he could finish.

"I didn’t even get to tell you what I needed."

She paused, looking down.

"You didn’t need to."

She turned to look him in the eye.

"I’ll help break the barrier. That’s what you want, right?"