My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 939 - 940: A Small Chat

The atmosphere hung thick and foul, burdened by the deathly reek it had borne for endless ages. It gripped the lungs, coated the tongue. Still, amid the decay lurked a subtle ocean fragrance. The waters gleamed darkly under a murky skyline, the weak sea glow seeping into a slim mist that slithered over the surface like a living entity.

Crunch.

Damon’s boot crushed fragile bone.

Skeletons littered the shore. Some retained scraps of armor marked with familiar emblems. Others clutched artifacts from bygone times. Corroded swords, broken rods, fractured talismans. Bodies from varied epochs rested side by side in quiet unity, bound by mortality.

This marked the ultimate fate awaiting all existence.

Someday, he too would reduce to pale bones whitening under a lifeless vault.

Arms and baubles dotted the ground. Plenty might fetch riches, even damaged as they were. Old metal retained worth. Bewitched ornaments still murmured with latent might.

Still, nobody stooped to claim them.

The edict stood clear: avoid taking from the woods, lest the woods pursue you.

And these skeletons... these relics... they might harbor curses.

Wiser to let the departed rest undisturbed.

Damon raised his eyes to the skyline, attuned to the languid pulse of the surf. The noise felt nearly soothing.

Steps drew near.

He peered aside. Seras positioned herself next to him, her locks swaying in the breeze, ebony tresses grazing her face as she gazed at the waters.

"The sea... it’s so calm," Damon murmured, as though a louder voice might break the spell.

"Yes," Seras answered softly, yet her gaze stayed keen. "It appears so from the shore’s security. I wouldn’t feel such joy viewing it from a vessel. The sea proves a perilous realm. Abominable creatures. Terrors that shun light dwell under those swells."

Her statement hit like icy spray.

Damon breathed out steadily, dropping his chin.

"You could’ve granted me this instant. Just one brief respite before everything turns to torment. But no... you relish my torment."

Seras shot him a blank stare and crossed her arms.

"Quite the opposite—I just preserved your existence. Picture gazing at that ocean deeming it lovely or tranquil. It’s ebony."

Damon blinked and peered once more.

The liquid indeed appeared black. Not navy. Not profound violet. Black. It devoured illumination.

"Hmm," he grumbled. "That’s a fair observation. It’s meant to be azure, isn’t it? I’ve never beheld one prior."

Seras inclined her head slightly.

"It ought to be. Though even azure seas darken in some zones. At least it’s not crimson."

She halted, then stated plainly, "Our realm holds numerous seas. The Fog Sea. The Blood Sea. The Bone Sea. The Sea of the Dead. The Lost Sea—"

"Why are you abruptly naming all the most dreadful spots in creation?" Damon inquired, his voice dulling as he rubbed his face.

"I was driving home a lesson."

"When does our vessel reach us?" he interrupted. "You aren’t suggesting we traverse that by swimming, are you?"

Seras’ mouth pressed thin.

"Far from it. I despise the ocean."

Damon faced her, truly astonished.

"You despise it?"

"Yes," she affirmed promptly. "And by our journey’s close, you will as well."

He lacked words for that.

Rather, he strode a short distance and perched on a cranium vast as a rock, its empty orbits aimed seaward as though death hadn’t quelled its vigil on the edge. He propped elbows on thighs and fixed on the somber fluid as the sun dipped low.

He drew in a profound breath.

Salt, decay, and mild mist.

Stillness.

He permitted himself to savor it.

The hush didn’t endure.

Gentle steps neared once more.

Damon stayed facing forward this time.

"What do you seek?" he grumbled. "Whatever it may be, the reply is no."

Wendy settled on the cranium next to him, maintaining a prudent gap.

"I haven’t uttered a word," she responded evenly. "Nor do I seek a thing."

They lingered wordless. The sea’s aroma blended with the timeless rot of the strand. Gusts pulled at her fair tresses. His cloak fluttered per draft.

Eventually, she voiced.

"Why didn’t you abandon me when that Morticai addressed us?"

Her tone sounded softer than normal. Nearly hesitant.

Damon hesitated. Then he reclined on palms and angled his head a bit.

"Why would I abandon you?"

Wendy eyed the osseous blade laid over her knees. Her digits clenched its grasp.

"I’m your foe... aren’t I? I attempted your demise once."

Damon released a soft sigh.

"You attempted it thrice," he amended. "Twice in the Evil Forest. Once in the War Games. And so?"

His words drifted on the breeze, detached.

She gulped.

"Then why did you rescue me?"

Her hold eased a touch.

"If I perished... nobody would learn of that night’s events. I mean..."

Damon gazed at the skyline anew.

"I believe it’s a widely guessed truth by now. Anyway, the past stays past. No point fretting over trifles."

It had been his decision.

None compelled him.

"Drop it," he appended, gesturing casually. He wished no return to that recollection.

"Sorry," Wendy uttered.

"For what?"

"For compelling you," she whispered. "I’ll cease."

Damon at last swiveled to regard her, scrutinizing her countenance intently.

"And your aim?" he queried. "Doesn’t your fixation revolve around bearing offspring?"

She fixed on the dark sea ahead.

"Three hundred twenty years since my birth," she stated deliberately. "Much of it solitary. Scant recollections merited retention. The paramount one... involved desiring your death."

A dim, joyless grin grazed her mouth.

"It’s rather pathetic. The chief accomplishment in my existence was attempting your slaying."

Damon arched an eyebrow, taken aback by her inflection.

"What about your children?"