My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger - Chapter 951 - 952: He Has Come
Chapter 951: Chapter 952: He Has Come
The cultivator sighed.
His fingers began moving slowly in front of him, quietly calculating something. Invisible patterns traced through the air as if he were counting threads only he could see.
His movements suddenly stopped.
A deep frown formed on his face.
Without hesitation, he stood up.
The motion was simple.
Yet it caused the entire prison to stir.
Every gaze turned toward him.
Even the ancient monsters who had been silently minding their own business for ages slowly looked in his direction.
Since the First Epoch, when they had first been sealed here nearly two to three hundred thousand years ago, this was the first time the cultivator had risen from his lotus position.
The movement alone felt unnatural.
He raised his hands calmly and clasped them together in a respectful bow.
“Fellow daoists,” he said politely, “this Zhang apologizes for disturbing you all. However, our situation has changed.”
His eyes swept across the gathered prisoners.
“After many years, this Zhang has managed to glimpse some heavenly secrets.”
A ripple passed through the prison.
Feeling heavenly secrets was not particularly impressive here. Every entity sealed in this place possessed power far beyond the seventh class of advancement. They were transcendent beings capable of touching the threads of fate itself.
However…
“That’s impossible.”
The voice came from a husky old man wearing rotting red robes. His skin looked diseased and gray, his body resembling a walking corpse more than a living being.
A demonic cultivator.
Naturally he would be the first to challenge someone from the righteous path.
“Everyone knows the seal prevents us from doing that.”
The righteous cultivator ignored him completely.
Instead he calmly turned toward the rest of the imprisoned monsters.
“Fellow daoists,” he said. “Check for yourselves.”
His voice remained steady.
“See if the heavens still remain silent.”
Silence fell.
One by one the ancient beings began using their own methods to probe fate. Invisible powers spread through the void as they reached for the threads of destiny, testing the unseen currents that governed existence.
Moments passed.
Then someone suddenly burst out laughing.
“Hahaha!”
“The seal!”
“The seal is weak enough that we can feel fate!”
Excited murmurs spread across the prison.
“So the time has come,” another voice said slowly. “The power Mugu invested into the Unknown God’s authority, the Boundary Maker, is finally waning.”
“The seal that kept us imprisoned for so long will eventually break.”
A raspy voice cut through the growing excitement.
“I wouldn’t get too hopeful if I were you.”
All eyes turned toward the speaker.
It was the old wizard.
Orbitus sat lazily on a floating rock, his hat tilted over his eyes as he sipped calmly from his cup.
“We still can’t break it ourselves.”
He tapped his staff lightly against the stone.
“Not for at least another epoch.”
For a moment the prison fell quiet again.
Then laughter echoed from somewhere in the darkness.
“Hahhahha…”
The sound was wet.
Wrong.
Something began to move in the shadows.
It slithered forward like a tide made of countless writhing worms. The mass twisted and coiled until it formed a shape that vaguely resembled a creature.
It was something out of nightmares.
And that was exactly what it was.
A Nightmare.
It stopped before the gathered prisoners.
“Ittorath has escaped,” it announced.
The voice sounded like thousands of whispers speaking at once.
“He seeks a way to release his true body.”
The nightmare shifted, its mass rippling.
“And he brings us glad tidings.”
Silence followed.
Every ancient monster slowly turned toward the nightmare.
Their expressions were no longer irritated.
They were calm.
Calculating.
Morticai’s golden flames dimmed slightly as his eyes narrowed.
“Is that so…”
Perhaps a way out was finally at hand.
And with it would come calamity for the world above.
“And what is it that Ittorath wants in return?”
Orbitus asked the question casually, though his eyes had sharpened beneath the shadow of his hat. He slowly lowered his cup and rested both hands on the crooked wooden staff across his lap.
A nightmare like Ittorath would never do something for free.
Never.
While it looked as if everyone here shared the same banner as Outsiders from the Upper Realm, coexistence among them was nearly impossible.
In truth, it was worse than that.
Some of them were ancient enemies from rival factions. Others served different gods, and those gods themselves were bitter rivals. A few had once been champions of the True Demon Kings. Others believed the Old Gods should return to power.
Some were not even bound by mortal morality.
There were horrors born from the Metaverse that had never possessed the concept of good or evil. Creatures that saw reality itself as prey.
Others simply belonged to entirely different races.
Even the cultivators could not get along.
One of them belonged to a righteous sect.
The other came from a demonic one.
And even among the righteous sects, betrayal and rivalry were common.
There was simply too much variety among them for peace to exist.
Every single one of them had their own agenda.
And more importantly, the reward could not be shared.
The Pillar of Conflict was somewhere within this world.
Yes, the Unknown God had baited them here.
They all knew that.
But the bait was simply too tempting.
Which one of them was not an ancient monster that had clawed their way through countless schemes and betrayals?
The reward offered by the Unknown God was something none of them could ignore.
He had promised that anyone who delivered a Pillar would receive a great reward.
This world simply contained one of the pillars they had access to.
Just one chance.
A small chance.
But even that was enough.
One might wonder why these ancient monsters trusted such a promise.
The answer was simple.
The Unknown God never made empty promises.
A promise he made could not be broken.
And a promise made to him could not be broken either.
Not even by True Gods.
Because it was his authority that established the rules of the No Absolutes Accord, the ancient covenant that even divine beings were forced to obey.
It was greed that had drawn them here.
Greed that had trapped them for epochs.
The nightmare’s body rippled slowly in the darkness.
Before it could answer, a soft voice suddenly echoed through the prison.
“Perhaps it would be better if I came in person.”
Footsteps followed.
Soft.
Light.
A small figure stepped out from the shadows.
It was a young girl.
She looked no older than ten, wearing a simple dress. Her small shoes tapped gently against the floating stone as she walked forward.
But when the ancient prisoners looked into her eyes, their expressions slowly changed.
Those were not the eyes of a child.
Those were the eyes of Ittorath.
