My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger - Chapter 939 - 940: A Small Chat
Chapter 939: Chapter 940: A Small Chat
The air was filthy, heavy with the stench of death it had carried for countless years. It clung to the lungs, settled on the tongue. Even so, beneath that rot, there was a faint scent of the ocean. Its waters shimmered black beneath a dim horizon, the faint light of the sea bleeding into a thin fog that crawled across the surface like something alive.
Crunch.
Damon’s boot came down on brittle bone.
The beach was littered with skeletons. Some still wore fragments of armor etched with symbols he recognized. Others bore relics from eras long forgotten. Rusted blades, shattered staffs, cracked amulets. Corpses from different ages lay together in silent communion, unified in death.
This was the final inevitability of all life.
One day even he would be nothing more than white bone bleaching beneath a dead sky.
Weapons and trinkets lay scattered everywhere. Many could sell for a fortune, even in their ruined state. Ancient steel still held value. Enchanted jewelry still whispered with dormant power.
Yet no one bent to take anything.
The rule was simple. Do not take from the forest, or the forest will follow you.
And these bones… these remains… they could be cursed.
Better to leave the dead to their silence.
Damon lifted his gaze toward the horizon, listening to the slow rhythm of the waves. The sound was almost gentle.
Footsteps approached.
He glanced sideways. Seras stood beside him, her hair dancing in the wind, dark strands brushing against her cheek as she studied the sea.
“The sea… it’s so calm,” Damon whispered, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the illusion.
“Yes,” Seras replied quietly, though her eyes remained sharp. “It looks that way from the safety of land. I wouldn’t be so happy to see it from a ship. The sea is a very dangerous place. Vile things. Horrors that do not need light lie beneath those waves.”
Her words struck like cold water.
Damon exhaled slowly, lowering his head.
“You could have let me have this moment. Just this small moment of peace before it all becomes hell. But no… you enjoy my misery.”
Seras gave him a flat look and folded her arms.
“On the contrary, I just saved your life. Imagine staring at that ocean and thinking it’s beautiful or serene. It’s black.”
Damon blinked and looked again.
The water truly was black. Not dark blue. Not deep indigo. Black. It swallowed light.
“Hmm,” he muttered. “That is a valid point. It’s supposed to be blue, right? I’ve never seen one before.”
Seras nodded faintly.
“It is supposed to be. But even blue oceans turn black in certain regions. At least it’s not red.”
She paused, then added matter-of-factly, “In our world there are many seas. The Fog Sea. The Blood Sea. The Bone Sea. The Sea of the Dead. The Lost Sea—”
“Why are you suddenly listing all the worst places in existence?” Damon asked, his tone flattening as he dragged a hand down his face.
“I was making a point.”
“When is our ship arriving?” he cut in. “You don’t expect us to swim through that, do you?”
Seras’ lips thinned.
“Not in the slightest. I hate the ocean.”
Damon turned to her, genuinely surprised.
“You hate it?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “And by the end of our little voyage, you will too.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that.
Instead, he walked a few steps away and sat down atop a skull the size of a boulder, its hollow sockets facing the sea as if even in death it watched the horizon. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the dark water as the sun began to sink.
He inhaled deeply.
Salt, Rot and a light Fog.
Silence.
He let himself enjoy it.
The quiet did not last.
Soft footsteps approached again.
Damon did not turn this time.
“What do you want?” he muttered. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”
Wendy lowered herself onto the skull beside him, leaving a careful space between them.
“I didn’t even say anything,” she replied coolly. “And I don’t want anything.”
They sat in silence. The scent of the sea mingled with the ancient carrion stench of the beach. Wind tugged at her pale hair. His coat shifted with each gust.
After a while she spoke.
“Why didn’t you leave me behind when that Morticai was talking to us?”
Her voice was quieter than usual. Almost uncertain.
Damon paused. Then he leaned back on his hands and tilted his head slightly.
“Why would I leave you behind?”
Wendy glanced down at the bone sword resting across her lap. Her fingers tightened around its hilt.
“I’m your enemy… aren’t I? I tried to kill you once.”
Damon let out a low breath.
“You tried to kill me three times,” he corrected. “Twice in the Evil Forest. Once during the War Games. And so what?”
His voice carried into the wind, indifferent.
She swallowed.
“Then why did you save me?”
Her grip loosened slightly.
“If I died… no one would know what happened that night. I mean…”
Damon looked out at the horizon again.
“I think that’s an open secret at this point. Besides, what’s done is done. There’s no need to worry about small things.”
It had been his choice.
No one forced him.
“Forget it,” he added, waving a hand dismissively. He did not want to revisit that memory.
“Sorry,” Wendy said.
“For what?”
“For forcing you,” she murmured. “I’ll stop.”
Damon finally turned his head to look at her, studying her expression carefully.
“And what about your goal?” he asked. “Isn’t your entire obsession about having children?”
She stared ahead at the black sea.
“It’s been three hundred and twenty years since I was born,” she said slowly. “Most of that time I was alone. Very few memories were worth keeping. The most significant one… was wanting to kill you.”
A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.
“It’s kind of sad. The most important thing I achieved in my life was trying to kill you.”
Damon raised a brow, surprised by the tone in her voice.
“What about your children?”
