My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 954 - 955: First Wave

Naturally, the instant Matia's visage emerged, yet another siren underwent a transformation.

Trembling seized his hands.

His very instincts were turning against him.

The following siren morphed into Wendy.

Next, one more changed to resemble Leona.

This madness needed to end.

Damon shielded his face.

"Matia!"

His voice broke.

"Eliminate them. Wipe them all out. I can't bear to watch any longer. Just finish it!"

Matia showed no delay.

Wendy, on the other hand, let out a soft, mocking chuckle.

"You indulge in fantasies with women, only to command their demise."

She shook her head with theatrical flair.

"Typical noble conduct."

Damon gazed at the heavens in muted torment.

Such cruel unfairness.

The men on the nearby vessels gradually shut their eyes.

A few even offered salutes.

"I envy your courage," one murmured.

"Vice Commander, you inspire me."

"From our initial encounter, I sensed he was legendary."

Damon caught every utterance, yet pride evaded him entirely.

In the meantime, Matia leaped from the boat.

Her delicate foot met the water, and the ocean solidified into ice right below her. Frost expanded swiftly in a widening ring, transforming the swells into dense frozen sheets.

She unsheathed her blade.

A single fluid stroke sent a lovely siren's head soaring airborne.

Crimson sprayed over the iced surface.

In a twist of fate, the initial victim was the siren mimicking Lilith Astranova.

Matia pressed on relentlessly.

Her form blurred into motion.

From her sword burst forth ice that exploded around her path, forming a tempest of deadly frozen shards mingled with gushing blood. The sirens scarcely managed a cry before being sliced to pieces.

Their melody cut off suddenly.

Escape proved impossible.

The ocean had turned into their cage.

Matia had encased the entire area in ice, locking the waters clear to the craggy cliffs in front. Confined upon the frost, the sirens met their ends standing in place.

In mere instants, the last of them fell to slaughter.

Quietness reclaimed the waves.

Yet a practical gain emerged from the carnage.

The stretch of water linking the boats to the cliff now lay fully iced over, crafting a sturdy icy bridge.

Boats became obsolete.

The group assembled upon the frozen expanse.

Damon lifted his hand.

’Ashborn.’

Ebon flames burst into life over the deserted vessels.

The timber caught fire at once, shadowy blaze consuming the craft until only floating cinders and vapors lingered. No traces survived.

As the final boat crumbled to glowing remnants, the party faced the cliffs.

The stone barrier loomed overhead.

Precipitous.

Rugged.

Rising scores of meters tall.

An ordinary climber would find it draining.

Damon merely crouched down.

Then he sprang.

The earth splintered under his boots as he propelled skyward, gliding through the breeze to alight gracefully atop the cliff in one leap.

At last, his footwear met the earth of the Demon Continent.

The instant it occurred, a sensation awakened within him.

His pulse quickened briefly.

Buried deep inside, the Seed of Depravity quivered.

An unseen surge of force rippled across the terrain like a hushed throb.

In a remote bastion far off, Paimon abruptly widened her eyes.

Her face grew tense.

"Huh... what could that be?"

She shut her lids once more, stretching her perception over the domain.

Briefly, she detected null.

Then a courier burst in bearing pressing tidings.

"The initial enemy assault has hit the shoreline!"

Paimon furrowed her brow faintly.

"One hundred thousand warriors..."

She reclined in her seat.

"They're truly committing everything to this opening push."

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

Vessels dotted the skyline without end.

Every ship bore unique emblems and marks etched into their frames. Vast enchantment circles shimmered upon their surfaces, venerable patterns buzzing with might that could reshape the surrounding reality.

Troops poised alert on the decks.

Clad in shining plate and wielding arms inscribed with sophisticated rune spells, they exuded an oppressive aura. Myriads of combat essences blended into an overwhelming surge of strength that weighed upon the ocean waves.

Overhead, the heavens swarmed with enormous steel sky-vessels.

Glyphic motors shone under their undersides, driving them onward while lines of arcane guns aimed at the terrain beneath.

Circling the sky-ships rode handlers astride mighty enchanted creatures.

Wyverns.

Storm hawks.

Huge drakes.

Intermingled were airborne fae and sprites, plus kin of the divine lineages who soared unaided.

Beneath the waves, the depths churned with matching intent.

Colossal marine monsters glided beside the armada, leashed by submerged breathers. Squads of merfolk steered the flotilla past concealed hazards and perilous flows, ushering subsea legions to the foe's beaches.

And this...

Represented merely the opening assault.

Additional craft kept streaming from the far skyline.

Amid the armada cruised a gigantic flagship.

A colossal dual-purpose sky-ship that navigated both seas and skies. Shields of glowing wards adorned its plated exterior as spires of mystic ordnance swiveled lazily, surveying the shore.

This served as the lead vessel for the vanguard.

Within awaited the top overseer of the incursion.

A youthful lady braced one palm on an extended lance.

Her ebony locks streamed in the ocean gust, as her scarlet gaze surveyed the remote shore with poised command.

She possessed stunning allure.

And utter dreadfulness.

This was Abellona of Valtheron.

The Empire's Third Princess.

Head of the initial strike team.

Her objective was straightforward.

She led the forefront.

Her duty involved securing the outpost to enable the goddess kin's forces to breach the Demon Continent.

Yet Abellona grasped a truth hidden from the rest.

This wasn't her actual role.

Her legion acted as a lure.

A grand, ostentatious raid designed to pull demonic attention to her convoy.

Diverting it from the modest scouting party under Damon and Seras.

The strand before them lay still.

Near idyllic.

Sunlit grains lined the edge where tides lapped softly.

As dusk fell this day...

It would lie smothered under soot and gore.

Abellona advanced.

She hoisted her lance.

Her words echoed over the armada.

"I am Abellona of Destruction."

Gale tore at her mantle as she directed the lance at the mainland.

"And I proclaim conflict on behalf of the Goddess Races."

Her limb thrust ahead.

"Fire!"

Reality shifted hues.

Countless mystic barrage launchers flared simultaneously.

Dazzling rays of force blasted from the fleet, arcing over the firmament like a barrage of plummeting comets.

The shoreline vanished under a barrage of detonations.

Peaks quivered.

The waters quaked.

And the Demon Continent ignited prior to any warrior touching its ground.