My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 957 - 958: My Wha

"What you want?" the goblin leader growled in a rough, unpolished dialect of the common language.

Damon prepared to respond when a different goblin lunged ahead and seized his head in annoyance.

"Dad, seriously. I've mentioned this to you already. Always begin with a proper greeting when encountering others."

The words originated from yet another redcap goblin clad in leather armor. His face showed clear irritation.

What truly stunned Damon was the manner of his speech.

Smooth.

Utterly smooth.

No harsh tones, no fractured sentences. The language poured out effortlessly, just like from any well-mannered individual using the common tongue.

Damon felt sure that if he shut his eyes and simply heard that voice, he'd never suspect it came from a goblin.

He wasn't alone in his astonishment.

Renata even gave a small blink.

Wendy, though, detected no oddity in it. She lacked familiarity with goblins, and the prejudices held by the Goddess Races hadn't shaped her views.

Matia showed zero response.

She appeared utterly detached.

A considerable time had passed since she'd last faced goblins of this sort. The previous encounter with redcaps involved them pursuing her and her companions through the Duhu Mountains.

Those beings had been horrifying at the time.

But now?

They seemed feeble.

Lana, conversely, gaped with eyes expanded like plates.

She was aware that goblins could communicate. That was basic knowledge.

Yet not in this way.

Not with such elegance.

Indeed, goblins held some intellect and even basic tribal structures. Nevertheless, all her training as a knight had conditioned her to regard them as mere beasts.

Damon maintained a composed facade.

Sure, the surprise hit him.

Yet it wasn't excessive.

He recalled system entries about various races relocating to demon lands. For instance, troll groups had allied with the Mugu nation since the demons refrained from scorning or oppressing them.

"Ah... hello," Damon replied steadily, flashing a warm and approachable grin.

"May I ask where you fine folks are bound?"

He ensured his tone stayed courteous.

Though not excessively so.

Overly formal politeness could spark doubts.

And should suspicions arise...

Well.

He could eliminate them in one swift action.

The goblin who'd addressed him had crimson skin and resembled a human youth, save for his mildly pointed ears.

"Oh, it's no issue," he replied. "We're making our way to the city of Trace."

Damon rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly.

"I understand. Pardon my lack of knowledge. We're en route there as well. It's only... I've never ventured beyond my village, so the wider world remains unfamiliar to me."

The youthful goblin gestured casually and inclined his head a bit.

"Oh, no need to fret. You must be responding to the mobilization order. Numerous demon races are converging on Trace at present."

Damon preserved his serene demeanor.

So that explained it.

A mobilization call.

What an ideal chance.

Should circumstances favor him, he could potentially slip into the demon forces themselves.

The youthful goblin pressed a hand to his heart.

"I’m Gabo," he introduced. "And this is my father, the head of our tribe. Apologies for his command of the common tongue. He excels more in our own dialect."

Damon inclined his head before facing the elder goblin.

"Greetings. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

Gabo halted abruptly.

His eyes bulged in disbelief.

The cause was straightforward.

Damon had just uttered words in flawless goblin speech.

The remaining goblins exchanged puzzled looks as their leader gradually offered a return greeting.

Damon grinned and persisted in their native tongue.

Through the years, he'd gleaned a key insight.

Addressing others in their mother language instantly relaxed them. It conveyed empathy. It suggested you valued their heritage and traditions.

And with that belief in place, gaining their confidence became much simpler.

Following a short exchange, Damon beamed and reached out his hand.

The motion evidently startled the goblin leader.

After all, Damon was demonkin.

Merely by birth, he ranked well above them socially.

The goblin leader emitted an odd "jeejeje" noise before grasping Damon’s hand at last.

Their clasp was solid.

’I sense this marks the beginning of a fine alliance.’

Naturally, Damon nearly felt a twinge of remorse.

Journeying alongside him posed risks.

His ability, Deathless, possessed an odd tendency to draw ever more perilous events.

Thus, these goblins were likely on the verge of facing something quite dire.

He truly wished to express regret beforehand.

Once greetings concluded, the goblins moved apart and murmured softly to one another. Damon observed from nearby, intrigued.

’They’re far more refined than I anticipated,’ he mused.

Shortly after, they approached once more.

Gabo advanced again, serving as their voice.

"Sir, you and your spouses are welcome to join our journey. We from the Horn Tribe are an independent goblin group—"

Damon cleared his throat abruptly.

"Erhm... my what? My spouses?"

Gabo halted, perplexed. His gaze shifted beyond Damon to the quartet of women positioned behind.

Every one was a stunning demonkin beauty. Renata exuding poised assurance, Wendy displaying easy nonchalance, Matia radiating subtle deadliness, and Lana posed rigidly like an anxious figure.

Then Damon himself loomed.

A towering demonkin male boasting prominent horns and robust wings.

To Gabo, the deduction was clear-cut.

An attractive demonkin journeying solo with four lovely females?

Undoubtedly, they were his consorts.

Damon parted his lips to clarify.

"They aren—"

"My, is it so evident?" Renata interjected smoothly.

She stepped up, intertwined her fingers with Damon’s, and rested her chin on his shoulder while wearing a subtle smile.

"Yes. We are his wives."

Wendy lifted her shoulders indifferently.

"I only wanted to have children with him," she remarked offhandedly. "But whatever."

Matia uttered not a word.

Her face stayed neutral, which the goblins interpreted as quiet agreement.

Lana, meanwhile, flushed crimson all over.

"Ah—my lord—I—I mean it’s not unusual for nobles to take their dames but I—I’m not mentally prepared for this!"

Damon’s features turned utterly expressionless.