My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 916 - 917: Rivalries

Those phrases served as the chief inspirations shaping Damon's beliefs and very existence. They were the ones that linked him inseparably to the Unknown God.

Damon had always understood that the inscriptions he discovered etched into the stone beneath the ancient tree's roots must have come from some author's hand.

The burning question in Damon's mind revolved around this: Was it destiny at play, mere coincidence, or maybe the scheming influence of the Unknown God?

Damon's thoughts swirled relentlessly around the harsh truth that free will was nothing but a facade, and the Unknown God reigned as the deity of predestination. Every event, including the notion of personal choice, was propelled by inexorable fate.

Amadeus fell silent after that. He had delivered everything essential. This was the extent of what he could reveal about Mugu, including his transformation into the Wicked Prophet and the original demon.

"Mugu deceived the world and Lysithara in pursuit of attaining Akasha."

Amadeus knew no further details on the matter. He had departed from Lysithara right when the outsiders began to emerge. Driven by a desire to expand his own limits and advance like Mugu, he ventured out during that era, imparting fragments of summoning lore and aiding in the invocation of outsiders throughout the realm.

That choice proved disastrous, for once sufficient numbers of them materialized and claimed tangible forms, their malevolent nature surfaced without restraint.

The bond between them and the outsiders remained intricate. These beings ranked higher in the cosmic order, yet they weren't unified. Outsiders came in diverse forms. Certain ones appeared utterly foreign and distorted. Others radiated a holy aura. Some exuded infernal vibes. A few bore bizarre relics and sported odd attire.

Harmony eluded them entirely, with longstanding rivalries festering among various factions even prior to their arrival here.

Amid all their differences, one shared purpose united them without fail.

"Back then, I remained oblivious to what that purpose truly was," Amadeus concluded one final time to Damon, rising from his skeletal seat as it dissolved into nothingness.

"Above everything else, their contempt lingers in my memory. They scorned all beings and objects save for Mugu. For some inexplicable cause, he escaped their full contempt. It felt as though they regarded him as a peer. And why wouldn't they? He was, after all, the Prophet of the Unknown God."

Seras and Damon exchanged a quick look as the lich retreated into the dense tree cover. With every stride, his form grew fainter, like a being exhausted and frayed.

His words resonated across the sinister woodland.

"The insights you've imparted to me are intriguing. May our paths never cross again."

Upon the table, he abandoned the box meant for Damon, accompanied by several sheets of parchment.

Damon seized the box, examining it closely as his mind brimmed with reflections on Mugu.

"I can't help but wonder about the kind of life he led."

The instant those words escaped his lips, voicing an unintended desire, the box responded dramatically. It crumbled apart, reduced to dark powder, then melted into a marking inked onto Damon's wrist.

The speed of the transformation left him stunned.

"Ah, curse it. That wasn't the wish I meant to make."

He grasped that it wasn't some enchanted genie granting desires. Otherwise, Amadeus would have exploited it for boundless wisdom. He could have even unlocked Akasha itself.

Complete mastery over every form of sorcery imaginable.

Seras scanned through the parchments Amadeus had provided.

"It's a chart of the terrain plus a basic summary of the threats and beasts lurking nearby."

Renata assisted by turning more pages for her. A subtle pallor crept over her features.

"This won't simplify our trek in the slightest. It just clarifies how probable our demise has become."

Damon's attention sharpened at the mention of death. He tore his eyes away from the tiny emblem on his wrist, which remained inert regardless.

His stare shifted toward the towering trees surrounding them.

"Then we should press on without delay."

Seras gave a measured nod, fully aware of the perils awaiting them.

"I'll distribute this to folks suited for such tasks. It'll prove handy for our scouts too, though I may need to halt additional reconnaissance. It's wiser to maintain the full expedition group intact."

He returned her nod with deliberate slowness. Her logic held firm. Seras possessed real expertise in these matters. If anyone could guide an expedition through and back from the evil forest unscathed, it was undoubtedly her.

Within half an hour, preparations for departure were complete.

All riders mounted nocturnal stags, and Damon received a fresh one. The group felt uneasy around the lich but remained thankful to avoid clashing with it.

He sensed their respectful gazes and caught snippets of their chatter, dubbing him a profoundly knowledgeable figure.

Damon welcomed the admiration, provided they guarded the revelations in strict confidence.

Regarding the stipulation woven into the oath scroll.

If the oath-bound individual plotted to disclose the secret, their heart would burst and their soul perish, so long as any recollections or documents of that day's occurrences persisted.

The escape clause was straightforward: Perish or wipe away all traces of memory from that day.

Damon arrived first at the Hungry Ground. This expanse of shadowy earth mirrored the surrounding forest at a glance, though peculiar black roots protruded skyward from the trees. The ever-present odd flora made them tricky to spot.

Such terrain could prove fatal for the frail, but for those at third class or higher, it posed merely a nuisance. Minor wounds, irritations, or visions varied by type. In dire instances, sudden demise.

Vigilance was paramount in realms like this.

With Deathless scheming against him and no incidents yet, Damon proceeded with utmost caution.

Seras drew alongside him, her nocturnal stag surging ahead. The moment its hoof met the soil, the ground quivered like a viscous fluid akin to water.

The soil gleamed inky black and yielded softly, reminiscent of damp cinders.

Damon dismounted his stag and probed the earth. Imprints plunged unnaturally deep. Warmth emanated from the surface, akin to pulsing tissue. He pondered whether slicing it would draw blood.

Damon drew in a steadying breath. It felt secure enough for the evil forest's standards, so he climbed back aboard his stag, tracing the precise route of the others.

No sooner had it advanced three paces into the zone than the stag and Damon alike were yanked beneath the surface.