My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 891 - 892: Deathless Strikes Back

Cassian creased his brow. Moments earlier, they had watched as every person hurled into the arena got devoured and utterly destroyed by a monstrous entity, its shadowy silhouette blanketing the entire space, its oppressive presence pushing right up against the world's very edges.

Prior to that moment, they had truly glimpsed the divine essence itself.

They barely had a handful of minutes to process everything before getting ejected back, hurled out exactly where they had been swallowed. The colossal horror faded away into specks of glowing light.

His fingers trembled a bit while he surveyed the group of survivors, their numbers now slashed to half of what the war games had begun with.

A quiet breath of relief escaped him upon noticing his daughter and nephew both still breathing.

Even more crucially, he sensed it clearly.

Their presences.

All of them had attained it.

"The Fourth Class breakthrough," somebody whispered, echoing the exact thought in his mind.

Emperor Kronos advanced, masking the deep pain of his son's death behind a composed expression.

"Abellona."

He placed a hand on his daughter's head, though such a gesture was the limit of warmth he could display publicly. Even that felt excessive. An emperor shouldn't falter, yet as a parent, he had just seen one offspring perish and the other vanish. Wasn't it a mercy that the goddess had restored one to him, despite the loss of the other?

She dipped her head just a touch.

Evangeline dashed straight into her father's embrace the instant she laid eyes on him. She wasn't alone in that. Plenty of young masters and highborn ladies, who had pretended to be unbreakable while battling in the wars—especially those around Damon's age—burst with joy at reuniting with their kin.

At returning to the realm where safety enveloped them.

Damon longed for that sensation. The ability to detect mana once more, the warm embrace of his home world accepting him fully, without any pushback, without viewing him as a foreign plague demanding eradication.

He lifted his gaze and caught sight of a girl with white hair hurrying down some steps, trailed by Brightwater knights striving to shield her. In front of her, a girl with pink hair raced toward him too.

Damon bowed his head, clenching his lower lip. When he looked up once more, the pair collided into his hold.

He embraced them silently. Words seemed to tumble from their lips, but Damon floated in a haze. Whether from the curse or his swirling feelings, witnessing his sister's sheer delight at his survival hit him hard—dying would have been the ultimate act of selfishness.

Not that survival was his decision anyway. The curse compelled him to endure.

'At least Deathless hasn't hurled any deadly ordeals at me so far.'

"Damon Grey, surrender the elixir of pseudo immortality. A mere peasant like you has no right to possess such a mythic relic."

A voice cut through icily as a mighty presence crashed over Damon. He flicked his hand in dismissal, then eyed Luna and Iris.

"Leave. Immediately."

He commanded it without inflection. The Brightwater knights didn't pause for the girls' replies and yanked them back right away.

Damon spun to face a nobleman glaring at him. The man's daughter numbered among those who lived.

Damon sized him up thoroughly.

"Do I even recognize you?"

The nobleman, looking every bit the rank of count at minimum, snorted derisively.

"Such boldness from a nobody. Your arrogance will spell your doom."

Damon furrowed his brow a fraction.

"No, I wasn't boasting just now. I truly have no clue who you might be. Don't you come off like some minor extra? If you mattered at all, I'd have heard of you."

The fellow's complexion flushed through multiple tones from the veiled barb.

He wasn't alone. Damon picked up various young elites murmuring details about the elixir. Few grasped its true effects, so the tales swelled wilder with each passing instant.

It evolved from a universal remedy, to a potion granting eternal life, to harboring the mysteries of divinity.

Alchemists craved it. Mages hungered for it. Nobles schemed for it. All desired it. Above all, the temple had fixed its sights on him now.

Father Dantalion, the renowned witch hunter, observed with sharp curiosity. His eyes flicked momentarily to Paimon, the demon lord in attendance, yet his features remained unchanged.

"That's plenty, lad. We alchemists insist you yield the elixir for the institute to examine it."

"What rubbish," bellowed a mage hailing from the magic continent.

"It belongs with the Magic Academy, obviously. Our facilities on the magic continent are unmatched—we alone can analyze such a treasure correctly."

Damon exhaled wearily. The bickering was turning tiresome. They hadn't laid eyes on the elixir, but behaved as if they owned it already.

They quarreled like he was invisible. And truthfully, that rang accurate. He hadn't ascended to their tier yet.

Lilith pressed her lips together, poised to seek her grandmother's aid. This mess traced back to her somewhat. She could have let slip about the elixir, and regardless, discovery was inevitable.

Damon shook his head.

He had rejoiced prematurely. Deathless appeared to have launched its lethal pursuits against him.

His instincts blared warnings as he eyed these influential figures staking covetous demands on what was rightfully his prize.

Seras Blade regarded the unfolding drama with steady fascination.

"So, he pulled through after all. Though if things keep escalating, it won't last. He's got just one path open now."

Damon smirked, his features icing over.

"Even if I offered it, not a single one of you would have the guts to claim it."

He delved into his shadow storage and withdrew the elixir. Why? Because that's who Damon Grey was. A curse forcing survival didn't demand he play meek. Had it been a curse of modesty instead, that would cripple him far worse.

The golden fluid gleamed brightly.

"Behold, the elixir."

Then he tucked it away into his shadow storage once more.

With a burst of magic, he carved a line into the earth.

"Let any of you try stepping over that mark and discover my response."

A hush fell. They gawked at the youth fresh to the Fourth Class. Just what scheme did he harbor?

An elder in the Sixth Class strode ahead.

The instant he breached the line, Damon blinked out of sight.

He materialized behind the grand duke, fingers clutching the man's attire.

"Help me, grandpa," he wailed without shame.

The grand duke stiffened briefly, then his face set like stone as reflexes kicked in.

His tone turned frigid as a blizzard.

"Who dares lay hands on my grandson?"

The whole arena plunged into stillness.

His grandson?