My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 908 - 909: Stalker

Seras creased her brow upon seeing Damon's stare fixed on that spot, even after the lights uncovered absolutely nothing. She too sensed faintly that something ought to have lingered there.

"What exactly did you spot," she inquired steadily, her gaze sweeping the surroundings with a keen edge reminiscent of a blade.

Damon rose gradually, narrowing his eyes.

"Definitely something. Yet I can't for the life of me say what it was."

She gave a slow nod. Unusual indeed, though this was the Evil Forest, after all.

"Understood. I never thought we'd encounter one of the Evil Forest's abominations this early. Our vigilance slipped."

Even so, some discovery beat none at all. Her eyes shifted once more to the shadowy treeline, where even the darkness appeared swallowed by an endless void.

"From your glimpse, what shape did it take?"

Damon looked toward the man gasping for air yet still out cold.

"It was among those that distort your senses. Tall it appeared, yet stooped over as well. As I stared, its breath brushed my face. So near it felt... yet distant enough that my blade couldn't touch it."

She nodded while Renata entered the protective ring.

"Hmm. Likely a beast possessing a conceptual attribute. Such things aren't uncommon here. Facing these beings, they warp the world's laws and function by mysterious principles."

With a sigh, she folded her arms.

"I've gone through numerous Academy documents about this woods, and I can affirm, the entire area pulses with life. It despises our presence and schemes to end us at every opportunity."

That revelation didn't shock Damon. Reminiscent of the Whispering Forest, save that here, the Evil Forest faced ongoing probes.

"The Whispering Forest enforces rules—plenty of them. Key among them: never reveal your name to the woods."

"Does the Evil Forest follow a similar guideline," he murmured.

"Not quite. The Evil Forest enforces various rules in its zones, shifting with the seasons. It spawns diverse creatures at varying moments, drawn from the minds and terrors of intruders. This realm boasts a particularly vicious array."

Her hand rested on her hip.

"Deeper in you venture, slimmer your odds grow."

Damon stared at the ebony earth of the Evil Forest, the suffocating gloom, the feeling of eyes upon them, his pulse aligning with the quiet.

"In that scenario, wouldn't our fears spawn beasts of boundless horror?"

Renata inclined her head gradually.

"They might, yet this domain is timeless. No terror we conjure hasn't crossed another's thoughts before. That's no cause for concern."

"Right now, let's hold until dawn breaks, then press on," Seras interjected.

"Nearing the core area amps their strength, cuts our window short. Expect at least half our squad to perish before crossing to the sea beyond."

Her statement rang harsh and unyielding, stirring visible dread in the expedition team, though she wielded it with purpose.

"To avoid joining the fallen," she pressed on, "stay sharp. Peril shadows every step."

The group snapped salutes, their alertness sharpening in an instant.

Her eyes flicked to a youthful female tending the wounded man.

"What insights did you gain," she queried.

The lady sported emerald locks and hazel orbs. Elf-like in appearance, yet not from the Verdant Continent's stock—she hailed from Soltheon's elven clans.

"It seems we're facing a stalker."

At those words, irritation flashed in Seras's gaze. Damon inferred from her response that it spelled major hassle.

"A stalker, is it." Kael approached, clad in lightweight plate and trailed by knights he'd dispatched to scout post-assault.

"Any discoveries," Seras inquired.

Kael denied with a head shake.

"Against a stalker, we'd find zilch."

Damon faced Seras.

"Explain what a stalker is."

Rubbing her forehead, she showed true frustration.

"A real pain. Exclusive terror of the deep woods. Rare in count, but documented through clashes—though not enough to grasp slaying them."

Kael eyed Damon like a tutor schooling an errant pupil.

"Such horrors prove nearly impossible to destroy while under watch. In this, they echo Weeping Angels, a breed I pray we avoid. Yet they differ. Unlike those angels, motion comes freely even in sight."

Damon scowled, gnawing his lower lip.

"So observation halts their advance, regardless of the watcher—human or otherwise? How do you end a foe you dare not view?"

"Sight denies the kill, yet blindness leaves us unable to strike. Quite the riddle," Renata whispered.

Damon regarded the young elven healer.

"Records imply survivors faced them before, correct?"

She negated, dread plain in her features.

"Typically, the stalker's prey fled via instant teleport scrolls or advanced relocation spells. Sealing rites are my top known counter—trap it eternally."

Damon inhaled deeply.

"Sealing arts... Binding such a nightmare won't come simple or lasting, I wager."

Seras dipped her head unhurriedly.

"Indeed. I concur. Elimination is our path."

Damon concurred. He'd need to unravel slaying the unslayable under scrutiny.

A vulnerability rule must exist for its demise.

"Having struck once, it likely spares further assaults this night."

Plup.

A figure crumpled at the camp's perimeter. A shape bounded from a limb and faded away.

Seras shot him a look, brow furrowed.

"Care to repeat that?"

Damon's face hardened.

"That abomination dies by my hand."