My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger - Chapter 1002 - 1004: He’s Back
Chapter 1002: Chapter 1004: He’s Back
The pain was so absolute Damon did not even have the space to register the system chimes.
Each notification struck his mind like distant thunder, heard but not understood, echoing through a consciousness drowning in agony.
His body arched violently as something rewrote him from the inside.
[You have awakened the skill: Shadow Prison]
[You have acquired Ashcroft’s brain — You have gained: Mind Dominate]
[You have acquired Ashcroft’s spine — You have gained: Gravity Dominate]
[You have acquired Ashcroft’s eyes — You have gained: Light Dominate]
[You have acquired Ashcroft’s ribs — You have gained: Metal Dominate]
[You have acquired Ashcroft’s wings — You have gained: Space Dominate]
[Ashcroft’s will stirs within you — You have gained: Wind Dominate]
When that last line resounded through him, Damon’s eyes snapped open.
The energy rampaging through his body sharpened his awareness like a blade dragged across bone.
[The will of the world has sensed your growth. Your fable is known to the stars. Choose your path and carve your destiny.]
[Creating your domain…]
[Failure. Error. Error. Error.]
[Creating your domain…]
[Error. Error. Error.]
[No domain detected.]
[The will of the world does not sense a domain.]
[Warning. Warning. Death is imminent.]
Damon could not move.
Not a finger.
Not a breath.
It felt as if the heavens themselves had descended and were pressing down on him, demanding proof of something he did not yet possess.
Inside him, a will began to take shape.
Familiar.
Foreign.
Ancient.
Violent.
The world itself seemed to be questioning him.
Each rank was not merely physical.
It was philosophical.
And Damon had never answered the question that should have been answered long ago.
What is your domain?
Because of that, he now had only two choices.
Retreat to the Fourth Class.
Or proceed into the Fifth without a domain…
—and be crushed by his own arrogance.
A dry, broken chuckle escaped his lips.
“Haha… haha…”
So this was how he would die.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to retreat. The curse within him urged him to step back. To bow. To survive.
This was not a single will pressing down on him.
This was the collective will of the entire world.
The sum of every living mind.
Fate itself.
“I see now…” he muttered hoarsely, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as his body trembled uncontrollably.
“I get it… I didn’t understand before… but I do now…”
A scream rose inside his mind. In the depths of his soul, something was tearing, breaking, reshaping.
“Choice… I understand why he always spoke of choice. Fate is a product of free will. And we all have the will to choose.”
His fingers dug into the floor, nails scraping stone as his muscles spasmed.
“Then if everyone is making a choice… what happens if their choices damn me?”
His breathing grew ragged.
“If your will is ruthless enough… domineering enough… you can break even the collective that is fate.”
Yes.
That was the Unknown God.
One will above all.
One choice that overrides everything.
That was Ashcroft.
One will that feared nothing.
One will that dominated.
“If I take a step back now… I will never move forward.”
His shadow began to tremble beneath him, writhing like something alive.
“I choose to defy.”
The air around him distorted faintly.
“I choose to perish knowing I moved forward.”
The moment those words left his mouth, they stopped being words.
They became something else.
An idea.
A law.
A presence.
That presence spread outward from him, leaking from his shadow like black smoke, carrying with it his madness, his defiance, his refusal to kneel.
A domineering will that preferred annihilation over submission.
[You have created a domain.]
The pressure lessened.
The world paused.
Then acknowledged him.
Even though his rank was still insufficient to manifest it fully, his nameless domain was given form, weight, existence.
[You have created the domain: Shadow Dominion.]
Damon had survived certain death once again.
But it wasn’t over.
The system’s voice returned, distant and absolute, announcing what he had become.
[Angst and rage, poison and darkness. Solitude as a companion. Traitor to some, future uncertain.]
[Again you live where you should perish. Again you usurp the right of kings. Tyranny is your path.]
[Class: Dominator]
The last line had barely faded when another voice rose from the depths of his mind.
Cold. Arrogant. Ancient.
“You lowly usurper.”
The words didn’t echo. They pressed into his thoughts like claws digging into soft ground.
A crushing will flooded his consciousness, prying at his control, trying to force its way into his body.
Damon’s teeth ground together as he forced himself upright. His limbs trembled under the overwhelming surge of power still tearing through his veins.
“You son of a bitch… I killed you,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.
A crooked grin tugged at his lips.
“How many times do I have to kill you?”
“Hand over your mortal form, you wretch,” the voice commanded, thick with authority.
Damon felt the foreign will surge again—
—and then abruptly stop.
He blinked.
A faint sound of irritation echoed in his mind.
“I see you still have that wretched crown.”
The world around Damon dissolved.
Darkness swallowed everything.
He found himself standing in a realm made entirely of shadows. Countless wandering shades drifted across a starless void. Above him, fragments of broken space floated like shattered continents suspended in nothingness.
At the center of this unreal expanse stood a man.
Dark hair. Long horns. Vast wings stretching behind him. Red eyes glowing like embers inside the gloom.
Ashcroft.
Damon looked him over slowly.
“You look different from what I remember, you dirty little goblin,” Damon said lightly, though inside every instinct screamed at him not to show weakness.
Ashcroft was far more intimidating in his true form.
“I see you are quite uncreative with your inner world,” Ashcroft said smoothly, his gaze sweeping across the endless darkness. “Mindless shadows. How fitting.”
The insult was deliberate. Aimed at Damon’s core.
“Are you hoping to take over my body?” Damon asked. “I expected tricks, but this? You really are a cockroach.”
Ashcroft sneered. Normally, such words would have earned instant death. But he didn’t look down on Damon.
“Pathetic. You failed to kill me even with a mortal handicap. As for your body… I will take it eventually.”
He lifted a hand lazily.
The shadows beneath him rose, shaping into a massive chair. It extended upward into a towering throne atop countless steps, lifting Ashcroft high above Damon as though he were a king gazing down at a subject.
Damon felt it immediately.
The aura.
The psychological pressure.
’Motherfucker just farmed aura on me,’ Damon cursed inwardly.
Then the realization struck him.
Ashcroft hadn’t attacked.
Which meant he couldn’t.
“I appreciate the company,” Damon said dryly. “But I don’t like pests. Be gone.”
The shadows around him surged upward, forming hundreds of black swords that shot toward Ashcroft.
They passed through him like smoke.
Ashcroft didn’t even flinch.
“You cannot harm me,” he said calmly, raising a glass of wine that hadn’t existed a moment ago. “I am part of this mind. You devoured my brain and my flesh. This is as much my domain as it is yours.”
He tilted the glass slightly in a mocking toast.
“Should you really be here… while the world around you burns?”
Damon’s jaw tightened.
He snapped his eyes open.
A thunderous explosion shook the temple.
The air trembled as shockwaves rolled through the structure. Flashes of destruction lit the sky outside.
Damon rushed forward and looked out.
Far above, a blue-haired figure with vast wings clashed violently with a white-haired swordswoman. Each strike tore space itself, leaving jagged spatial rifts hanging in the air.
Seras.
Paimon.
On the ground below, chaos had erupted. Priestesses battled the forces Seras had brought. Kael fought among them as the entire temple trembled under the violence.
Damon’s eyes moved rapidly across the battlefield.
This was bad.
Seras was powerful—but Paimon was stronger. Even with the temple sword, this was not a fight she could win.
“The audacity to attack the Snake Temple,” Ashcroft’s voice echoed mockingly inside his mind. “You will all perish.”
Damon exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Can you shut up?” he muttered. “I already have voices in my head. I don’t need one more.
Damon moved to rush toward the battlefield—
—and something burst from his back.
The force slammed him forward into the stone wall. His face hit first. Pain shot through his nose as cracks spiderwebbed across the surface on impact.
He staggered back, clutching his face, eyes wide.
No one had attacked him.
His wings had.
They had unfolded violently on their own, spreading outward with such explosive force that the backlash had launched him like a ragdoll.
Damon twisted, glancing over his shoulder.
Two massive wings stretched from his back, easily the length of a full-grown man. Dark. Dense. Powerful. They flexed instinctively, as if testing the air around them.
He felt it then.
Power.
It coursed through him in heavy waves. His muscles thickened. His frame grew denser, more compact with strength. His horns pushed outward, lengthening, curving more prominently from his skull.
Energy leaked from his skin like heat from a furnace.
“Haha… it seems you’ve become more demonized,” Ashcroft laughed inside his mind, thoroughly entertained. “Still short of a true demon, but you’ll get there eventually.”
Damon ignored him.
He didn’t have time to examine himself. Didn’t have time to process what he was becoming.
He still didn’t know where the Ouroboros Coil was.
And he doubted Ashcroft would be helpful.
“Shut up,” Damon muttered.
Ashcroft’s voice turned mocking.
“Your entire inner world is screaming the same thing. If I were you, I’d worry less about the Coil and more about the demon lords coming here.”
Damon froze.
A chill slid down his spine.
“What?”
Ashcroft didn’t hesitate.
“If you die, that would be inconvenient for me. This temple has three Nexus Gates. Find them. Destroy them before the demon lords arrive.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed.
“Nexus gates?”
Ashcroft’s tone hardened.
“Get to work, you mongrel.”
