My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 909 - 910: War Cry

By now, devising methods to slay beasts or enemies had turned into an ingrained routine for him.

Damon braced himself for some terrifying ordeal the instant he stepped into the evil forest, yet this monster was now zeroing in on his whole expedition squad.

They hadn't even arrived at the battlefield, and already their ranks were thinning out due to an unseen assailant.

This marked the seventh formation shift they'd undergone over just two days.

Still, the pursuer had claimed ten members without fail, and no strategy had proven effective. The thing moved with blinding speed, striking only at the vulnerable ones.

It hadn't slain a single soul so far, merely afflicting them with a curse that crippled their mobility and forced heavy use of healing potions to keep them going.

How blatant could the choice get? Leaving them to perish in order to conserve a handful of potions would shatter their spirits to rock bottom.

Nevertheless, Seras remained undecided. She simply pressed the group onward without alteration.

Damon urged his mounted nocturnal stag closer to Seras, keeping his tone hushed for her ears alone.

"Do you have a plan?" he inquired, eager to confirm that the expedition's commander at least possessed some strategy.

"Whoa, why would I share that with you? For all I know, the true Damon might be gone, and you're the stalker in disguise."

Damon let out a scornful scoff.

"Nice to see you're up for jokes. At least your own neck isn't on the line. Even if the whole group perishes, you'll pull through."

Seras offered a smile, cocking her head to one side.

"Right, that's spot on. I'm at the peak of sixth class advancement, nearly stepping into seventh class."

Her hand rested thoughtfully on her chin.

"Regarding a plan, well, I haven't devised one yet. Feel free to suggest something if it strikes you."

Damon shut his eyes while the stag let out a gentle huff, sunlight's glowing rays barely piercing through the silver-leaved ceiling of timeless trees.

"Alright, then assist me in drawing it out."

Seras denied the request with a shake of her head.

"No point in that. It's been observing us from the treetops for the last three hours."

Damon halted abruptly, chills racing up his spine as he scanned the branches, extending his shadow sense even wider.

"Cut that out. I'm not sure if you're employing magic sense or a comparable ability, but I wouldn't in your shoes."

Damon dismissed it with a head shake.

"I don't possess magic sense. You only gain that at fifth class, correct?"

"Actually, it's the peak of fourth class. But that's beside the point. Have you forgotten our location?" Seras replied casually, as though her cautionary words hadn't just spared his life.

Damon clenched his jaw tightly.

Of course, what had gotten into him? This area brimmed with peril. Since Seras detected his perceptual probe, the forest surely harbored beasts capable of sensing and countering his shadow awareness. He'd encountered such threats before in the Whispering Forest.

"Don't beat yourself up. It's dubbed a stalker for good reason," Seras murmured, tweaking the position of her sword.

Damon ground his teeth.

"If I draw it into the open, will you attempt to take it down?"

She refused again with a head shake.

"That won't cut it. None of our weapons here can finish it off."

Damon acknowledged with a nod, lifting his hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just give it a shot. I need to test something. I simply want a close look to spot a vulnerability."

Seras kept her stag in motion. Her expression stayed composed, a faint smirk curling her lips.

"If you're aiming to wow me with your courage, consider me wowed. My gut says your scheme is straightforward, foolish, and liable to go horribly wrong."

Damon let out a laugh as perspiration trickled down his forehead and a chill gripped his spine.

"How'd you guess?"

She shot him a look, a subtle spark in her gaze.

"You've got the look of a daring fool."

Damon drew in a steadying breath. This stood as his sole viable idea. Should it unravel as disastrously as he feared, death awaited. Every fiber of his being screamed against it. The curse lodged in his heart urged him to abandon the notion.

Strangely, that very curse also warned that failing to confront and eliminate this stalker meant certain doom.

Damon drew forth a pair of twin swords, artifacts from the Halls of Steel. They'd attempted to reclaim them, but Damon refused, and following negotiations between the halls' elder and his grandfather, a quiet arrangement was struck.

"I'll scout ahead," Damon announced clearly, and his stag plunged forward, crushing through the underbrush and trunks of the woodland, smashing hazardous vegetation.

Renata missed the details of his scheme. She lifted her arm.

"Hold on, don't break away from us."

She moved to pursue with a few knights from House Brightwater, but Damon signaled to halt.

"Stay back. That's an order."

His command rang out as he vanished amid the foliage.

Damon couldn't tell if it trailed him, but he had to gamble on it. He doubted his odds in a one-on-one clash.

He pressed about three kilometers deeper into the woods before his danger instinct flared, sending tingles across his entire scalp.

Damon reined in his stag, positioning himself in a modest clearing within the trees. Lush greenery sprouted several meters above the dark earth, veiling the ground. The surrounding timber offered prime spots for an attack.

The nocturnal stag grew restless, as though desperate to bolt from the vicinity. It pawed the ground repeatedly.

'If this turns sour enough, I'm done for.'

He shoved the thought aside. Being cursed to cling to life didn't render him spineless.

'We can't sink much lower than this.'

Even Deathless couldn't heap more torment on him than already present. He'd endured thus far. He refused to fall now.

He sealed his eyes to sharpen his remaining senses. Then came the faint stir in the undergrowth, and he whirled with a burst of magical force in a sweeping cut, yet nothing appeared.

As Damon glanced sideways, a spike of warped black twigs pierced his flank. He leaped from the stag just as the beast slammed into a trunk, its form bursting apart on collision, gore and entrails spraying through the air and pattering onto the foliage like a storm.

It perished without a sound.

Damon spared no glance its way as shadowy power coursed through him, though his curse resistance held it at bay. He loosed a surge of dark fire toward the source before even identifying it.

Amid the blaze, he closed the gap and struck downward at the entity. It parried his blade effortlessly. The impact felt like clashing against an unyielding mountain.

He peered at what should have been its visage, but no face existed. It resembled a tree at first. No, not quite a treant either. Its form mimicked sleek bark etched with fissures, yet pulsed with meaty substance.

He seemed to make contact, yet didn't truly. It loomed beside him, but an vast rift separated them, wider than mere distance. As if it dwelled in a parallel layer of existence beyond his reach, akin to a flat sketch on paper unable to grasp a solid, three-dimensional form.

Damon, a being of three dimensions, strained to engage something from a mismatched quantum realm.

"I hope you enjoy fire."

He erupted a deluge of flames while sensing his shadow reserves wane, the protective veil in his heart forged from shadow power straining, clashing forces within him surging.

The inferno pierced its isolating veil—or whatever divided their planes—but lacked the strength to destroy it. Damon shoved away.

All this unfolded in the blink of an eye, and precisely then, Seras materialized before him.

But upon spotting her, his danger alarm intensified. She slashed her sword at the stalker, yet Damon sensed the peril aimed at him.

He dissolved into shadow mere instants before the edge struck. He hurled one silver sword at her—or whatever she was.

And the weapon sailed harmlessly through.

"Tsk," Damon tutted in frustration. Predictable; that wasn't Seras. It was the monster itself. Two of them existed. Naturally, that explained it. This type of being couldn't shift unless watched. The solution seemed obvious: constant observation. But it couldn't watch itself. Even clearer then: a pair could monitor one another, granting unrestricted motion.

Damon eyed its blade, a replica of Seras's simple tachi, thrusting at his throat.

"Damn it."

He was trapped as the edge tore toward his neck.

A tachi arced down upon it.

"Not bad," Seras's voice emerged from his flank.

"Looks like my hunch held true. Two of you after all."

Damon's eyes bulged as he beheld her icy, lifeless stare. She hoisted her sword, yanking him nearer.

"War cry."

That rang as the final noise Damon registered. What came next was an ear-shattering roar that rattled the essence of his being.