My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 942 - 943: Blood Of What

Previously on My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger...

Damon and Seras board a ship heading to the demon continent, where the superstitious captain and crew kneel for blessings from the revered holy man Damon. Adopting a solemn facade, Damon bestows blessings on the sailors, divines a perilous voyage filled with storms, and leads a prayer invoking perseverance through faith in the goddess. As the journey commences amid ominous sea bones, a shadowy figure briefly surfaces near the ship, while Damon later chats with Seras on deck, complimenting her smile and drawing out her rare vulnerability about her upbringing as a mere 'blade.'

With arms folded across his chest, Damon gazed at the horizon where the sun dipped into the ocean.

"If I ever had a daughter, I'd compliment her cuteness daily. Remember, newborns come out incredibly unattractive. This applies to humans and beasts alike."

Seras blinked in a deliberate, unhurried manner.

Damon lifted his hand, using his fingers to tally points.

"They go through developmental phases before hitting peak adorability. Initially, it's the hideous newborn period, all red and lacking fur or endearing features. That's the phase only a parent could adore, yet we all act like they're life's greatest wonder. We deceive ourselves."

Seras' mouth corners jerked in discomfort.

"Uh... alright..."

"Next comes the genuine adorable stage when they're tiny and emit charming noises. They've got plump cheeks and perhaps some fuzz for animals."

He offered a subtle grin, as though envisioning the scene.

"Then arrives the verbal phase, full of learning and immense charm. This marks the pinnacle of cuteness. Beyond this, most folks decline. You turn either stunning or plain."

"My path veered off quickly," she remarked, then halted, gesturing toward her features. "Hold on. Where do I fit into this?"

Damon pulled a theatrical face, narrowing his eyes like he was appraising a priceless relic, before flashing a sly grin.

"You're among the fortunate. You're exceptionally gorgeous, so you had to have been adorable."

Seras traced her face once more, this time more deliberately, as if etching its contours into her mind.

"I'm exceptionally gorgeous..."

She seemed to doubt his words.

Damon felt a touch surprised. Had nobody ever praised her appearance, or was this one of those hypocritical situations women face, disliking flattery from detestable men but welcoming it from sleek, attractive ones?

Definitely the second option.

He inwardly appreciated his mother for his appealing features.

Although that wasn't entirely accurate.

In reality, nobody had ever labeled Seras an exceptionally gorgeous woman, despite her beauty capable of overthrowing kingdoms with mere glances.

Truth be told, spotting a woman's allure is tough when she's extracting your innards while drenched in gore.

When facing death, beauty takes a backseat. Even a siren's allure doesn't stop sailors from steering clear.

Damon eyed the sea, inhaling deeply.

"You appear fond of the ocean," Seras inquired with an odd look as the fading sunlight from the far-off sun flickered, scarcely grazing the waves.

He angled his head, observing the foreboding shadowy depths.

"I've heard the sea holds terrors. Seeing it now, I'm strangely captivated."

Seras moved nearer, resting a hand on his shoulder with a solid hold.

"I regret what you're soon to face. I wish you hold onto that outlook."

Damon furrowed his brow, arching a brow. What was her deal? When did she turn so cautious? He'd braved the wicked woods and the murmuring woods. He'd traversed Lysithara.

Those were major peril areas. Folks didn't hype the ocean that way. Why fuss over it?

It was merely some water, nothing more.

Seras noticed his skepticism. She could only hope he wouldn't develop a fear of water. That trauma would be disastrous.

At least that's the mindset.

The sun vanished silently, plunging the world into night. The ocean's real essence emerged.

Endless blackness stretched out.

That didn't bother Damon. Darkness posed no issue for his sight.

He smirked toward the void.

His smirk was joined by a terrified wail from the vessel.

His hairs bristled.

************

On some part of the ship, a fellow lay blood-soaked, howling.

The cry ripped through the structure, primal and shattered.

Seras and Damon moved simultaneously. Damon's face shifted from annoyance to alertness. They dashed under deck, feet pounding the timber steps while the ship rocked wildly below.

The yells intensified.

Damon wasted no time. He smashed the door with a kick.

The timber shattered inward with a thunderous snap.

Upon entering, the odor assaulted them immediately.

Coppery.

Dense and overwhelmingly potent.

A fellow lay on the ground, bloodied head to foot. His locks were saturated, visage streaked crimson, garments sodden. His look was dazed as he gazed up in astonishment, like a kid trapped in horror.

The whole timber chamber was daubed in red.

The walls.

The planks.

All the berths were coated.

Crimson trickled from the upper bunks in sluggish, viscous strands.

Damon advanced, footwear sloshing in the gathered red. He bent a bit, eyeing the man huddled in the gore.

"You okay? What occurred?" he bellowed, his tone echoing through the space.

The fellow stayed silent.

His mouth quivered. Tears streamed from his eyes, carving narrow, clear paths through the crimson on his face.

Seras scowled, advancing cautiously, her footwear marking dark prints on the slippery surface. She knelt a touch and swiped two digits into the viscous red, testing it between them.

"This blood isn't yours."

The fellow shook his head gradually, frame shuddering.

Damon surveyed the area.

No corpses.

No appendages.

No fight traces aside from the blood.

"Why the scream?" Damon pressed, clutching the man's collar and yanking him to his feet.

The fellow just wept.

An adult male weeping.

Damon couldn't even name this. It unsettled him deeply. The chamber felt off. Excessively still. Too vacant for such gore.

"What?" Damon barked. "Whose blood? It's not yours. No wounds on you."

The fellow swallowed hard, throat working fiercely. His jaws clicked as he struggled for speech.