My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 928 - 929: Here A Potion

A massive form emerged like a miniature mountain sprouting from the soil, leaving the woodland they'd occupied now looming high above their heads.

Trees and scales enveloped the dragon's form, appearing partially merged with the soil. Cracks marred its surface. A decaying carrion stench lingered around the beast, mingled with the crisp aroma of soil, foliage, and the wild. The sunlight stretched the dragon's shadow far across the ground behind it, while its enormous wings draped vast, remote shadows over the woods in its rear.

A buzzing hum filled the atmosphere, roaring fiercer than any thunderclap, as quakes rattled Damon's stance underfoot.

Gravewing. That's the word he caught from Seras's lips.

One wing appeared shredded, as though enormous teeth and talons had savaged it, rendering it jagged and frayed.

The expedition team fled with all the speed their limbs allowed, sprinting at unnatural velocities. But could they escape something as immense as a mountain?

Dung... rumble... rumble.

The earth quivered violently as a colossal talon blanketed the whole zone they raced toward, encompassing every spot with the displacement flowers.

Damon halted when a rotten carrion odor surged upward. Weakness gripped his legs while his heart seemed to freeze. He struggled for breath, yet none filled his chest. Terror surged in his blood, chill spreading through him, draining color from his face, his fingers quivering beyond his will.

His instinct for peril burst forth, scalp prickling, eardrums leaking blood.

He shifted a bit while Seras stopped, gradually turning toward the enormous skull.

From her spatial ring, she drew forth a container, expression grave.

"I greet the great one, Rexagon..." Seras intoned, her energy surging to shield the full expedition group against the crushing dread aura emanating from the dragon.

At that moment, Damon sensed ease returning as the pressure eased.

Just then did Damon notice the chill sweat drenching him.

Though he'd reached the fourth class advancement, he still felt utterly insignificant facing this animated peak.

The beast parted its jaws, a radiant blaze of ruin lighting up its mouth akin to a blazing star. From his spot, Damon sensed that star hovering directly overhead.

"Who dares enter the dominion of Rexagon, who dares cross the lord of the carrion skies."

That booming voice saturated the skies while huge carrion birds lifted from the foliage sprouting on its massive scales. They soared upward to where its skull and twin horns pierced the clouds, shrinking Damon further in his own sight.

Seras replied, her tone resounding deliberately. Noting its damaged wings, the creature stayed seated, though she could tell it bore wounds.

"We beg your forgiveness, great one. We were merely passing through. If you can forgive our transgressions."

"Silence, you have disturbed my rest, little mouse..." Its bellow scattered the clouds asunder.

Slowly, its head descended, causing Seras to clench the box harder.

Damon shivered faintly until his Remorseless skill activated. He exhaled deeply.

Seras proved awful at bargaining with dragons... didn't she realize his life hung in the balance?

'Damn it, deathless, I know it's you. I just know it...'

That forced him to devise some means of endurance, come what may.

This encounter differed vastly from his clash with Ashergon. That beast had simply ascended and scorched the whole territory, scattering cinders and demise in its path.

'I am fire. I am death.' Those were its only words. They lingered in Damon's mind even now. Within him, a spark of Ashcroft's haughtiness ignited.

'One day, I'll turn that reptile into my steed.'

This day wasn't it. Damon advanced a step. He couldn't avoid inwardly groaning at how each dragon he'd faced acted like such a brooding tyrant.

"Great one... I am Damon Grey. It is a pleasure to stand in your magnificent presence. Forgive my lowly handmaiden for her lack of courtesy. Before your immaculate magnificence, truly you are the greatest of all dragons."

Seras shot him a look, demoted in an instant from expedition leader to mere servant.

Rexagon bristled at this insignificant pest. It gaped wide to pulverize him with its fang-like spears, though those were far grander than spears—more akin to spiked mounds.

"Great one... What has injured you so..." Damon uttered steadily. His statement halted the dragon, its gaze flaring as it truly examined Damon for the first time.

Then it snarled.

"So it is you... I see. I was almost deceived. I see you... I see you. What do you seek from Rexagon."

Its gaze lowered to meet Damon's height, allowing him to glimpse his image within those eyes. Spotting that image, Damon nearly faltered. There, he didn't appear as himself; rather, a fiend loomed with serene commanding presence, a vibe of supremacy.

Damon grasped right away whom the dragon mistook him for.

'Ashcroft.' Realizing this, Damon knew he mustn't falter, for Ashcroft dreaded naught—not even a mere dragon. Why? For he embodied Ashcroft the dominator, supremely bold like no other.

"Rexagon, why are you here injured." Damon swiftly deduced the beast's harm, the most obvious trait about it.

Rawrrrwhggg.

The beast bellowed in fury, as if replaying its fury. It dipped its vast head to Damon's plane, its rotting breath endangering to hurl him back or rot his skin.

"Who else would dare treat the carrion king with such dishonor..." Rexagon thundered, its declaration almost spurring Damon to bolt for survival.

'Dammit, I wanna go home...' Damon mused.

He truly wished it wasn't Ashcroft, yet that seemed unlikely. Though the gashes appeared aged and Rexagon embedded in the soil, the injuries stayed too vivid, and regeneration eluded it.

"I see, so it was Ashergon..." The evidence stood clear from the massive bite scars and talon gashes across its frame, even its dirt-cloaked chest with coarse scales showing claw traces.

Its jaws flared with ruinous force as it reared its head skyward, spewing a deluge of devastating breath that split the heavens, birthing spatial tears. Darkness cloaked the realm despite the sun's persistence.

Rexagon's wrath appeared to rattle existence itself. Seras clenched her jaw, eyeing Damon who stayed composed amid searing fragments of reality igniting and plummeting, scattering the expedition team in panicked evasion of the ruinous fallout.

Damon stood pristine, arms folded behind. To her, he appeared utterly...

'Amazing...' she whispered softly, eyes stretching wide in a stupor.

Seras recalled fragments of Rexagon's lore. This beast was fabled to originate from a mountain's depths. Ages past, two mighty realms clashed in war, their war shouts, agonies, and gore all seeping beneath the peak. When the peak stirred, the dragon emerged, bearing the battlefield's putrid odor. Wherever it soared, its wings sowed demise, decay blooming from its talons.

Once the realm learned its title, they dubbed it Gravewing, the beast forged from the ground and heralding rot-filled heavens.

Rexagon the Gravewing.

Legends told of countless suppression armies dispatched to fell beasts like it; none came back, and Rexagon endured.

Time reshaped the world, leading to an era where such dragons might be driven off or vanquished.

Damon lifted his arms gradually.

"I come in peace and I wish for safe passage from your dominion." At last, he addressed the heart of the issue.

Rexagon hesitated, viewing Damon as Ashcroft. Draconic pride resisted simply releasing them, yet confronting the overlord daunted even it. A tricky bind for the creature.

Damon faced his own bind. Lacking strength against such a foe, he might employ the Book of Shadows to ensnare it—if its shade fell toward him. Regrettably, the shade trailed behind, and he couldn't reach it swiftly enough without perishing.

'At least this one chats instead of charging like Ashergon.'

"Why should I, the great Rexagon, grant you safe passage..."

Damon inhaled deeply, grinning as he delved into his shadow storage.

"I bring with me a great gift." He produced a potion, hoisting the flask.

"This is my offering for our peaceful passage. I would like to save my strength for when I deal with Ashergon..."

Damon continued measuredly. The dragon stilled, inspecting the flask, then gradually reduced to a modest hill's scale. Its talon extended, and Damon set the flask there.

"This is the ultimate healing potion; it can mend wounds in an instant." Damon pitched the deal.

With the shrinkage, Rexagon's talons failed to block the exit route.

He rested a hand on Seras's shoulder as the dragon attempted to ingest the potion.

"Run."

He dashed away.

It was a scam.