My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 897 - 898: The Pool

The expansive halls stretched out impressively. In this space, Damon sensed an impossible emotion. For the first time ever, his shadow revealed raw fear.

Right upon stepping into the Holy City, his shadow grew restless. It halted its independent motions and behaved just like an ordinary shadow.

Yet the true shift occurred as they approached the central temple.

It appeared deeply unsettled.

The Holy City served as the heart of the Holy Empire. Here, the Temple wielded its full authority. In many ways, it functioned as a theocracy, backed by the military might and wealth of the world's major powers.

Across the globe, every newly crowned leader made a pilgrimage to this Holy City, where they bowed to kiss the feet of the goddess statue, pledging their allegiance.

This ritual held ceremonial weight, but its core lay in politics. That was its main purpose.

The city's ancient architecture brimmed with countless statues of the goddess. Holy Knights lined the streets in abundance, and as Damon arrived, the crowds erupted in cheers.

The Temple had spared no effort to highlight his entrance, drawing numerous influential nobles to the city. Some received invitations from his grandfather, others from the Temple itself.

With demon wars threatening on the horizon, the emergence of a new Hero demanded serious attention, particularly as conflict drew near.

Damon halted just outside the majestic temple. The intense fear and terror emanating from his shadow washed over him. It proved utterly consuming.

This terror seeped into his own chest, and rightfully so.

The temple stood as the city's focal point, encircled by figures draped in flowing veils across their faces, clad in sweeping robes adorned with symbols of the goddess.

They chanted her glories, gliding gracefully within the temple grounds.

Damon recognized this chilling presence all too well. It matched the aura that had enveloped him at the very moment of his death.

This was the essence of the Goddess of Doom. Though subtle and barely perceptible, Damon grasped the profound dread it stirred in him.

In his thoughts, it felt as though she stared directly at him.

The man ahead turned toward Damon.

"Awe-inspiring, isn’t it?" he said with a smile, his hands tucked away in his flowing white sleeves.

"This is the spot. Long ago, in this very temple, the goddess vanquished Ashcroft, the Demon Lord of Domination."

He shut his eyes, inhaling the pure air deeply.

"Concentrate, and you can detect it still. Lingering hints of divine energy. This force proved too much even for Ashcroft to withstand."

Damon maintained a composed face, his eyes shifting to his shadow.

That clarified his shadow's timid state. This marked the site of Ashcroft's defeat.

His shadow had once been Ashcroft himself. Only after death did the Unknown God grant him this shadow along with the system.

’I’m not going to die the moment I enter the temple, right?’

At that instant, such a fate seemed entirely plausible. Yet Damon clenched his jaw and pressed onward with a step.

The interior felt refreshingly cool, but a heavy pressure weighed on his chest, as if raising one's voice would invite grave offense.

Regardless, Damon had no path of retreat. His visit to the temple aimed to claim the Hero title, requiring him to perform the necessary rites and ceremonies.

He had dismissed their importance before, but now in this place, compliance was unavoidable.

Once the ritual concluded here, he would face the assembled throng of onlookers, visitors, kin, and aristocrats gathered beyond the walls.

The elderly man came to a stop before a towering statue of the goddess. Before this immense figure, soaring some thirty meters tall, lay a broad basin.

Encircling it stood young women veiled across their faces.

"This basin emerged in the wake of Ashcroft's demise. It brims with echoes of the goddess’s divine energy. Immersing yourself within will renew your form entirely."

Damon detected a soft, milder surge of divine power radiating from it.

The man withdrew his hand from the sleeve.

"Yet it carries great peril. The unworthy perish if they linger too long. Seras Blade endured the longest. She withstood it for half an hour."

Damon squinted his eyes. Half an hour. That had been her threshold. What perils hid in this basin if even Seras couldn't persist further?

"Still, the rewards justify the danger. Your physique gets purified to perfection, free of all flaws, and you absorb a trace of the goddess’s divine energy through the immersion. Seras awakened the complete might of her War Attribute."

He faced the elder, revealed as the High Templar.

"Your Holiness, if I may ask, what occurs if I cannot endure?"

The old man shut his eyes deliberately.

"Then you shall join the goddess soon enough."

Damon flinched. Such an end sounded far from favorable.

The dilemma centered on whether to take the chance. He already served the Unknown God. Entering could prove fatal. Yet his danger instinct registered nothing alarming.

Even so, he dared not trust that sense against the goddess or her influences.

Damon pressed his lips together as the white-veiled women approached and started removing his garments, intoning sacred hymns.

To Damon, the hymn echoed like a funeral toll marking his last breaths.

He set his jaw firm and eased into the basin step by step. The instant he submerged, a peculiar, otherworldly force commenced its inspection, delving into his very being.

He sensed that any misstep could shatter him, or perhaps cost him a limb—or worse.

But upon reaching his heart, the force paused abruptly.

Damon held his breath as it focused on the clashing powers within his heart.

The Seed of Depravity and the Divine Spark.

Suddenly, the basin stirred violently, bubbling up in a frenzy.

The High Templar’s eyes flew wide.

"Wha... what is happening?"