My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 925 926: War Machine

Handling displacement flowers brought nothing but frustration. Though it was possible to employ them for shifting between spots, the majority of destinations they hurled folks toward turned out to be lethal ambushes. The forest had crafted these blooms specifically to fling invaders into hazardous territories.

During the previous seven days in this spot, the group had stayed rooted, unwilling to budge. Seras insisted on letting them rebuild their stamina prior to pushing onward.

Beyond that, she aimed to steel their minds for the trials of the Hanging Paths.

In recent days, her scouts had fanned out, hunting for displacement flowers across a hundred-kilometer span.

A few had located the blooms. Others failed to come back. And certain ones might have been better off staying gone. Those were the unfortunate souls who staggered home twisted by corruption, their bodies festering with decay, transformed into beasts.

Seras remained unfazed. Clashing with corruption was inevitable sooner or later. She'd harbored a hopeful illusion that they could dodge it until hitting the Demon Continent.

It proved psychologically shattering for the expedition team to execute comrades lost to corruption.

The Evil Forest ranked as a lethal domain, though it resembled an ordinary woodland for the most part. Among all death zones, records showed it with the smallest risk of corruption, hovering around a 73.6 percent likelihood. Objectively, that counted as minimal.

Even if corruption rarely struck folks in reality, the explanation was straightforward.

Death would claim you well beforehand.

Seras turned a page in her stack of papers, her grip clenching the sheet while she chewed her lower lip.

They'd discovered a displacement flower capable of vaulting them over vast swaths of the forest straight to the Hanging Paths.

The sole problem lay with the guardian of that route: a dragon.

Dragons stood as mighty beings brimming with devastating might. Their hides gleamed tough, nearly impervious to harm. They grasped magic profoundly, healed with ferocious speed, and possessed sturdy spirits. Layer on their savage intellect and sly nature, and it was obvious why they dominated as the pinnacle of all creatures.

No natural foes haunted dragons, according to Seras's knowledge.

That much rang true, even if her grasp on dragons remained superficial.

What escaped her notice was the dragons' age as a species.

The original dragons emerged as True Dragons, eternal and primordial. These beasts arose at the height of the ancient omniverse. They appeared in the era alongside the Old Gods, numbering just four against the countless Old Gods spawned from varied notions and principles. Overwhelmed in numbers, they couldn't expand freely despite boundless promise, their power capped at a level where they irked the Old Ones without toppling them.

Such was their balance.

A deadlock.

By the time newer races appeared, dragons had long existed—or at least those founding four. From them sprang every other dragon, whether by design or accident. All dragons owed their lineage to those progenitors.

The dragons populating this realm followed the same pattern. That might explain their exclusion from the goddess races' roster.

What Seras grasped clearly was dragons' whims and perils, particularly when intruders breached their domains.

The world's most infamous dragon was Ashergon, bearing titles that trumpeted his terrifying splendor.

This beast had ravaged cities and nations alike, leaving the world to simply withstand the onslaught.

Seras shook her head gradually, straining to summon all her dragon lore. Bits surfaced from myths, tales, firsthand encounters, and rumors.

Indeed, she carried such memories. She'd stood amid the Battle of the Burning Plains when Ashergon assaulted the demon and goddess forces right in the thick of their clash.

Why...

His nap in a nearby mountain had been disrupted by the racket from two days off.

Flames devoured the land. Skies clogged with smoke and cinders. The dragon's wings boomed through the heavens, compelling the feuding sides to unite in desperate defense against him.

No side claimed triumph that day.

"I must tread carefully if I aim to keep our small band from total annihilation."

Her hand rose to her hair, fingers combing through the locks as she let out a breath.

"I'd rather avoid facing this dragon head-on. The smartest path involves slipping through his territory undetected..."

Naturally, that didn't mean she lacked the power to slay a dragon. She simply couldn't gauge if this particular one fell within her reach. A rank too elevated would spell catastrophe.

Shaking her head, she rose and exited her tent. She wove through the camp amid salutes from troops, offering sharp nods in reply. Her pace stayed steady and deliberate en route to a spacious tent.

Parting the flap revealed a squirrel and a raven huddled in the corner. These beasts appeared unremarkable at first glance, yet their presence betrayed Fourth Class prowess.

Besides them, three women occupied the space. A knight clad in fractured black ice armor lurked in the dimness. A fierce-mannered woman slung a bone sword casually across her shoulder. And naturally, the final figure was a violet-haired youth.

Seras couldn't suppress a smirk. After all, their gathering here stemmed from the comatose young man sprawled on a cot inside.

She itched to bemoan his knack for drawing female attention. Regrettably, he lingered in oblivion since the prior skirmish.

"We'll depart in a day. With luck, he'll stir before we go." Seras stated evenly, arms crossed.

Renata dipped her head, softly caressing Damon's brow.

"He'll rouse by then..."

With that, Seras cast him a final look before departing the tent.

She felt sure he'd awaken in time.

Her steps faltered just beyond.

"Hmm... am I truly concerned for him..." Such emotion felt alien to her. He served mainly as a diverting diversion, a source of fleeting fun. So why this unease?

She dismissed it with a head shake.

"I'm reading too much into this..."

*****

A vast highway unfurled, spanning thousands of kilometers. This path ranked among those forged amid the Demon Wars.

Waging war demanded extensive preparations before blades clashed. It went beyond spotting foes; reaching them mattered too. Thus, logistics fueled warfare's core.

In truth, logistics underpinned economies as well. Yet in conflict, it meant survival or doom. It tipped the scales from win to loss.

To that end, these roads arose. They let troops advance while preserving vital energy. They eased hauling war engines and provisions.

The earth rumbled fiercely under the clamor of thousands of boots.

From his vantage, banners from myriad noble lineages fluttered by the hundreds.

As far as sight stretched along this thoroughfare, endless ranks of soldiers trudged forth. Riders, footmen, spellcasters. Wagons and colossal arcane war machines trailed them. Soaring spires embedded with crystals for shield wards. Mechanical golems. Enchanted barrages. Siege guns. Overhead loomed airships, iron behemoths bristling with arms, ferrying warriors and leaders.

Winged arcane creatures soared in escort.

Damon lounged in the shelter, observing the spectacle—or more precisely, beneath a tree's canopy. Beside him perched a woman in a pale hood. Her silhouette screamed allure beyond question.

She provided his sole companionship this day.

"The empire's throwing everything into this push. Seems they're dead set on storming the Demon Continent." Lilith remarked in a steady, crisp tone, her eyes tracking the procession.

"You'd figure after botching every assault on the Demon Continent, they'd quit by now. Their stubbornness is almost impressive." she tacked on, laced with sarcasm.

Damon savored the soft wind beneath the branches, lids drooping lazily.

"Wouldn't shock me. They're proud folk at heart. Plus, the temple harbors a grudge against demons. They won't halt their campaigns anytime soon..."

Lilith settled beside him, resting her head on the trunk, her arm grazing his.

"Is that right... but the demons kicked off this war. It looks grand, sure, but believe me, our leaders are quaking just like us. They're as lost about what's next. Even the temple offers no assurances. The goddess stays mute... or did she ever whisper to them at all..."

Damon shut his eyes, chasing a moment's tranquility. His shadow duplicate idled here as his true form slumbered. For the first stretch in ages, his focus divided.

"The goddess likely views this realm as a mere secure vault for her treasures. Our presence here barely registers for her. Believing we're worth anything to her smacks of arrogance and folly, but..." he trailed off, a subtle grin emerging.

"I'm okay with it. We needn't matter to deities when we can hold meaning for ourselves and one another."

Lilith grinned back, giving her head a playful shake.

"That's real progress... you earn a prize for that."

She bent in and brushed a tender kiss on his cheek. Then she rose. Producing a key, she slotted it into the tree, birthing a portal in the wood that creaked ajar.

"Come on... duties await. If the Temple eyes the Snake Temple, why not return the favor..."