My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 9 Same Everywhere

Damon exited Professor Kael's office in a hurry, his hands shaking from a suppressed fury.

He marched through the corridors, which remained largely deserted as the majority of the student body was occupied with lectures. Had any of his peers discovered that he had dared to talk back—and even insult—the most intimidating professor in the academy, they would have branded him a madman. Damon, however, was indifferent. He cared nothing for Kael or the status of the Seras Blade. Such things were trivial. His only priority was his sister’s survival, a burden that ultimately boiled down to a single, overwhelming obstacle: capital.

'There is nothing that wealth cannot purchase,' he mused with bitterness.

'If money fails to buy something, it simply means your pockets aren't deep enough—or you're looking in the wrong places.'

"I require more zeni..." he whispered to himself.

While his academy scholarship offered some financial breathing room, even a million zeni would fall short of his requirements. He was trapped; he couldn't quit or afford to be expelled, yet his path forward remained obscured.

'Tsk... damn it all.'

He gnawed on his lip, the crushing weight of his responsibilities making him feel as though he might snap. Despite his bold front in Kael's office fueled by adrenaline, he was acutely aware of the desperation lurking beneath the surface.

Inhaling deeply, he recited his habitual mantra in a soft breath.

"...Today was miserable... tomorrow will be even worse..."

After several repetitions, he exhaled a heavy sigh and slumped onto a bench near a bubbling fountain.

"What... what am I supposed to do... how can I possibly..." His voice cracked, drained by sheer exhaustion.

At that moment, his shadow began to ripple unnaturally, waving at him as if trying to catch his attention. Damon squinted, watching the silhouette gesture until he realized it was directing him toward the system.

A faint, weary smile touched Damon's lips as he shook his head. "Right. How did that slip my mind?"

He summoned the system interface and began reviewing his attributes. Most figures remained static, with two notable exceptions.

His [Shadow Energy] had depleted, and more alarmingly, his [Shadow Hunger] had climbed to a higher threshold.

Panic flared briefly until he inspected his status panel, only to find a reassuring notification:

[Condition: Shadow is Full]

He let out a breath of relief, knowing full well that excessive Shadow Hunger could lead to his demise. "I'm not particularly fond of the idea of dying," he murmured, looking down at his shadow, which had resumed its static form under the midday sun.

"What now? What should I provide for you... hmm, flesh for sustenance and souls for advancement..."

His brow furrowed.

"Souls will be difficult to acquire, but flesh? That is manageable within these walls... I'll begin there. Right after my lectures."

Damon paused as a sudden realization hit him. Class... His introductory Element Manipulation session had likely concluded, considering how late he was. If that was finished, it meant...

Reaching into his pocket, Damon retrieved a small tome embossed with the academy's official crest. Upon opening it, the parchment shimmered with the glow of a digital interface. This academy pager served many purposes, functioning much like a modern smartphone. As he scrolled through his timetable, he let out a frustrated groan.

"You have to be joking... just my luck."

Snapping the pager shut, he rose and glanced at his feet.

"Let's go. We have Practical Multi-Attribute Combat next."

He sighed deeply. This was among his most hated subjects. While he could tolerate the theoretical side of elemental combat, he despised the physical applications.

This class served as a stage for students to flaunt their prowess—and he was perpetually the weakest link. To make matters worse, he was tardy.

With a sense of dread, he descended the stairs, navigated a long corridor, and entered an elevator.

He stepped into the magitech lift, pressed the floor button, and felt his stomach drop as it moved downward. He soon reached the ground level, where a grand, vaulted exit stood. As he pushed it open, the bright sun flooded in, casting his shadow long across the stone floor.

Damon wove through a labyrinth of manicured gardens until he arrived at the academy's expansive outdoor training grounds.

Everywhere he looked, students were hurlng elemental spells at targets or evading strikes from massive, metallic golems.

Observing from the sidelines was the instructor, a beastkin man with brown hair and wolf ears, possessing a physique that spoke of immense strength and discipline. His piercing blue eyes scanned the field with calm authority, arms folded as he evaluated every movement.

Damon paused, his heart thudding against his ribs as he surveyed the chaos. He took a stabilizing breath, looked at his shadow, and gave a small nod.

"No turning back now."

He moved toward the group with measured steps, keeping his chin down and his breath controlled, praying the beastkin professor wouldn't spot him among the dozens of active students.

Damon moved cautiously, each step heavy with anxiety as he approached the equipment racks. Just as he thought he might slip into the crowd unnoticed, a deep, resonant voice boomed across the field.

"You are late."

Damon went rigid. The training grounds fell into an immediate hush as the professor's command demanded total focus. Every student stopped what they were doing to stare at him, their faces a mix of curiosity and disdain.

Without looking up, he could feel their gazes boring into him. He scowled and slowly lifted his head, his face a mask of dark defiance. The gloomy intensity in his obsidian eyes gave him a menacing air, projecting a cold aura that warded off those around him.

Locking eyes with the instructor, Damon maintained a frozen, rebellious stare. The professor remained unfazed and gave a curt nod.

"You... what name do you go by?"

Though his heart was racing, Damon didn't flinch, his features set in a mask of icy determination.

"Grey. Damon Grey."

The instructor's eyes narrowed slightly in recognition.

"Ah... yes. You are that Damon Grey."

Damon’s expression soured further as his temper flared.

'These arrogant fools are all identical... looking down their noses at me, are they?'

He crossed his arms, refusing to be intimidated by this man, especially after his encounter with Kael Blackthorn.

"And what if I am?" he snapped back, his voice dripping with cold hostility.

Gasps rippled through the gathered students, shocked by his blatant disrespect. Marcus and Lark, standing nearby, traded stunned looks, clearly baffled to see Damon standing tall and acting so bold.

The professor’s gaze sharpened at the retort. His voice rose in volume, and a fragment of his powerful aura began to permeate the air, exerting a heavy, invisible pressure.

"You are late. Go to the corner."

Damon felt his legs turn to jelly as the sheer weight of the professor's aura crashed down on him, making his head spin.

However, just as he was about to buckle, his shadow began to writhe beneath him. It seemed to absorb the brunt of the spiritual pressure, shielding Damon from the full force of the attack. He managed to keep his face emotionless, even as his muscles quivered under the internal strain.

As he retreated to the corner, it was his shadow that appeared to wobble rather than his legs, taking on the frailty he refused to show. His gaze remained glacial and dark, completely unbowed by the professor’s show of strength.