My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 899 - 900: My Child

Simply put, the Holy Child didn't exist at all. The High Templar had invented it right then and there. In essence, it was merely a title bestowed upon Damon since he appeared sacred and channeled the goddess's divine power, at least in the High Templar's view.

Naturally, Damon realized some political maneuvering was involved, yet the Temple had no choice but to keep him around.

For starters, Damon represented a rare talent of this age, a true prodigy who might surpass even Seras Blade in his rapid ascent through the ranks, perhaps even more wildly so.

Additionally, Damon carried a reputation. It leaned toward notoriety, yet it was fame all the same. As the grandson of the Grand Duke, his connections ran deep.

However, the key factor was his astonishing feat of drawing divine energy straight into his heart without perishing.

The High Templar summoned the Nine Elders of Conflict, and by the moment Damon regained consciousness, their verdict was set.

Rather than dragging him out, they escorted him deeper into the Temple's confines. Upon arrival, a golden throne awaited him, and an attendant approached bearing a black chest etched with layers of interlocking magic seals.

He fought to remain composed, though excitement nearly boiled over inside him. Such elaborate seals promised an extraordinarily potent holy relic within, regardless of its form—exactly what he craved to safeguard his existence.

A veiled figure among the Nine Elders claimed the box, weaving a magical seal with his hand before unlocking it. A gleam burst forth, revealing to Damon—

A strip of white cloth.

He blinked in surprise.

Could this truly be a holy relic? He hesitated briefly, then activated his appraisal ability to examine it.

[Holy Shroud]

[Type: Holy]

[Description]

For countless years, he had knelt in penance, seeking forgiveness for his transgressions, but redemption eluded him. The goddess's statue stood mute until the day Lazarak broke loose from Eidolon. Believing it his sacred duty to halt the fleeing deity, he pursued him relentlessly, his heart wrapped in unyielding faith amid swirling doubts.

[Effect]

Wearing this shroud imparts a sacred glow to its bearer. The greater their divine energy, the more radiant and pious they appear.

Damon was at a loss for words. It amounted to nothing more than a piece of cloth that merely looked divine. What use could he possibly have for it?

'What a utterly pointless holy relic.'

It had to originate from that pitiful guardian on Eidolon's first level. So that's the fate that befell him in reality.

With both hands extended in grave formality, Damon accepted it, all while inwardly hurling profanities.

The High Templar intoned several prayers under his breath.

"Chosen by the goddess, accept this Holy Shroud. Claim it now."

Damon inclined his head deliberately and grasped the shroud.

......

In the Temple's grand plaza, the Grand Duke positioned himself beside numerous esteemed visitors summoned by the Temple, including top-ranking clergy.

The turnout exceeded his anticipations. Familiar figures dotted the crowd, some uninvited by him, such as Seras Blade's presence, which he suspected stemmed from a Temple invitation.

Still, unease gnawed at him because the reclusive Nine Star Elders had all appeared, and Damon had lingered inside far beyond a full day.

The elder man understood his grandson's temperament well. He wasn't one to yield respect easily to others.

He drew in a steadying breath. Should the Temple seek to trouble his grandson, he would confront them head-on.

No matter the fallout.

He offered a subtle nod to an ordinary-looking nobleman apparently eager to ingratiate himself with their lineage, though in truth, this was merely one guise among many that Jarvis assumed.

Right as he prepared to advance and demand answers—

A procession of white-veiled women emerged, their voices raised in sacred chants. Trailing them came a dark-haired youth crowned and draped in a white shroud. A white blindfold covered his eyes, as though shielding himself from the world's impurities.

His presence radiated purity and tranquility, yet it carried a sharp edge evoking battle and catastrophe.

He seemed handpicked by the goddess in person.

Hushed awe fell over the assembly as this dignified holy figure descended the Temple's vast staircase.

From the summit, the High Templar lifted his arm.

"I proclaim that, for the first instance since the Temple's inception, we have discovered the long-sought Holy Child, the forerunner of a fresh epoch."

Damon maintained a serene facade.

This elder was utterly brazen. Hadn't they conjured the entire notion scarcely thirty minutes prior?

"The Temple has scoured every corner for the Child of War, the authentic Child of War, favored by the goddess of doom and champion of the goddess's kin."

"Esteemed guests, the Holy Child will now bestow his graces."

Damon felt unsure how to proceed, but he had already schemed to exploit this circumstance.

He approached the gathering. His gaze fixed first on Xander Ravenscroft, present due to his family's deep links to the Brightwaters.

Halting before him, despite the blindfold, he perceived everything clearly. Truth be told, the blindfold was his own addition—no one had suggested it. He simply believed it enhanced his image.

With deliberate slowness, he extended his hand, his tone low and almost delirious, like someone under the influence.

Xander arched a brow.

What exactly did he expect? His attention shifted to Damon's fingers, each adorned with a ring.

"My child... kiss the ring and receive my divine favor."

His voice—deep and even, resonant like an intoxicated castrato—

Xander itched to scoff, but the onlookers were captivated by Damon's intensely sacred presence.

"Kiss the ring. Kiss the ring."

To sidestep any issues, Xander clenched his jaw and complied. In the Holy Empire, religious protocol demanded adherence. He never dreamed a figure like Damon, who despised the goddess and lambasted faith, would transform into a saintly icon.

He brought his lips to Damon's ring.

Damon slid his hand to the back of Xander's head, pressing him gently with a sly, concealed grin.

"You are blessed, my son."

Then, he proceeded to Emilia Highgon, standing beside Xander. With a resigned sigh, she followed suit.

"You are blessed, my child. I foresee a shadowy path ahead with this one... tread cautiously."

Xander flinched but managed a strained smile as Damon continued, imparting blessings to others.

Nobles queued eagerly to receive graces from a seventeen-year-old notorious for thievery, contraband dealings, and, naturally, widespread slaughter.

Yet, what did it matter? He possessed divine energy.

Damon arrived at Evangeline, positioned near their grandfather.

He gave a nod to his grandfather, who found himself speechless toward his grandson. He fervently wished Damon wouldn't force him to kiss the ring or address him as son.

After a brief, wordless exchange, Damon cleared his throat and eyed Evangeline and Luna.

Without so much as glancing their way, he presented his hand. Evangeline suppressed the impulse to strike him on the spot but leaned in to kiss the ring.

He rested his hand atop her head.

"This... I sense a fiercely turbulent soul in you, my child. Consider temper control. You are blessed."

Luna remained still. She hadn't anticipated he'd insist on her participation.

"Ahem. Ahem."

He extended his hand further. She recognized the necessity.

This individual was her sibling. Since when had he grown so audacious?

She pressed her lips to the ring.

He held still briefly.

"The Holy One insists you must also kiss the cheek."

He bent forward.

Iris, standing nearby, shot him a fierce glare.

Such an act wasn't standard in any rite.

Desperate to end it, Luna hopped up lightly and pecked her brother's cheek.

"Ahem, ahem... you are blessed. Fine child."

He turned his gaze to Iris. Muttering complaints, she kissed the ring.

"You are a slothful child. Strive more. I know your instructor is an exceptional prodigy. Emulate his excellence. You are blessed."

She ground her teeth.

He served as her instructor.

He had just boldly commended himself.

Further along, he noticed Lilith Astranova attempting to conceal herself behind her father to evade the ring-kissing ordeal.

Escorted by veiled women humming soft hymns, Damon advanced toward her.

He proffered his hand. His focus lingered momentarily on her bosom, pausing to admire her striking appearance.

Damon offered his hand, rings sparkling brightly.

His arrogant look conveyed she had no choice.

"Tsk." With a tongue click, she kissed the ring.

Damon cleared his throat and eyed her chest once more. Lilith, a youthful lady with flowing red locks and an elegant green dress.

"Continue your generous endowments... and let the worthy one persist in savoring the rewards of your efforts."

Her eyes spasmed in irritation.

This scoundrel was blatantly alluding to intimacy with her.

Damon shifted toward Abellona, tormenting her briefly before directing his attention to the Temple's representatives.

He halted before Father Dantalion and extended his hand.

"Danny, my son... claim my blessings."

Father Dantalion clenched his teeth.

An ancient powerhouse like him, now dubbed son by this insolent youth.