My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger - Chapter 256

Chapter 256: Chapter 256: Following Death
Slowly, he walked out of the woods, his expression distant, as if he wasn’t all there. His body trembled, yet his face remained as stoic as a doll’s. Blood covered his entire body, but he moved like a man who had lost touch with his own flesh.

The others followed in silent horror, their gazes fixed on the destruction he had left behind. The charred remains of the devil monkeys were nothing but ash, drifting on the dying breeze of the forest.

They staggered after him, each burdened by their own injuries, eager to leave the nightmare of the cursed woods behind. And just as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, casting the sky into the hues of twilight, they stepped onto the mountain path—Damon in the lead.

Yet, as he stood there, staring ahead, none of them could bring themselves to speak. There were so many questions—so much fear and uncertainty—but the dread that hung over them overshadowed all else.

Damon did not move. He just stood there, still as stone, his vacant eyes devoid of the stubborn will that usually burned within him. Gone was his cold gloominess, his sharp-edged sarcasm, his teasing smirks. There was only emptiness now, a hollow abyss where his presence had once been.

Sylvia’s gaze fell on him, a sharp pang of recognition striking her heart. She knew what those flames were. She had been possessed by the very spirit that had birthed them.

Her fingers curled into a trembling fist.

‘Did… did Damon take my place?’

A deep fear lodged itself in her throat. If Ignath had taken Damon’s body, if that cursed spirit had claimed him the way it had nearly consumed her… then she would rather burn with him than lose him to the dark.

And so, despite her broken arm, despite the agony lacing her every breath, she staggered forward.

“Give him back…” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, yet filled with desperate conviction.

Damon tilted his head slightly, as if finally noticing her presence. His vacant eyes met hers—and for a fleeting moment, a trace of clarity flickered within them. And when that clarity came, Sylvia saw it—the pain. The deep, wretched agony buried within him.

“They’re coming…”

His voice was soft, distant, almost dreamlike. His trembling hand lifted, pointing towards the road ahead.

“This is the end of the mountain path. If you run now, you can reach the bridge. If you make it there, you’ll be safe… but if the smaller troll catches up, you’ll have to fight it.”

His expression twisted, his jaw tightening as a flicker of humanity surfaced within his hollow eyes.

Sylvia bit her lip hard. “L-Let me heal you—”

She chose not to ask about the dark, shadow-like flames. But Damon’s gaze drifted to her, bloodied, battered, her arm hanging uselessly at her side. He turned away, staring into the distance as if waiting for something—something inevitable.

Then, they all heard it.

The thunderous roars of war trolls echoed through the valley.

Leona’s breath hitched. She clenched her fists, panic creeping into her voice.

“Come on, what’s wrong?! We have to run—”

Damon didn’t respond. He stood there, trembling, his body wracked with the aftereffects of using Ashborn. The shock of experiencing tenfold the pain of burning alive without dying had left him drained, his consciousness barely tethered to reality.

But there was something else too.

Hunger.

Not just from his shadow, but a deeper, more primal hunger. A desire to kill.

Evangeline hesitated, her lips parting—

But Damon cut her off.

“Go now. You have to reach the bridge.”

Xander gritted his teeth and stormed forward, grabbing Damon by the collar with a furious glare.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Why are you talking like you’re not coming with us?!”

Evangeline stepped forward as well, desperation lacing her voice.

“Damon, come on! We’re close—the bridge is right around the corner! We’ve left the Duhu Mountains and all its horrors behind! We can make it!”

Damon’s gaze flickered, but only for a second. He turned away, his eyes locking onto the forest behind him—the one he had left in flaming ruins. Then, to the horizon where the war trolls approached, massive and merciless.

“I’m going to kill them,” he murmured.

His voice was steady. Absolute.

“You guys can go… or take one for yourselves.”

Sylvia’s breath caught in her throat. Her grip on her broken arm tightened.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” she said through clenched teeth. “If you’re dying here, then I’ll die too.”

Leona gave a sharp exhale and smirked. “Hah, well, I was tired of running anyway.”

Damon shook his head. “We can’t take on two at once… you’ll die.”

Evangeline raised her sword, her grip white-knuckled.

“Well, that’s too bad,” she snapped. “I’m staying, you arrogant son of a bitch.”

Matlock, his wings fluttering, narrowed his eyes. “I’m not scared. I’m done being afraid.”

Damon’s empty gaze wavered.

The light flickered.

Slowly, he tilted his head.

“Okay…” He clenched his fist. “Then let’s fight. Let’s kill them together.”

He raised a hand, pointing toward the bridge in the distance. “Get there and wait for the smaller troll. The big one is mine.”

Evangeline sucked in a sharp breath. The big one was too strong. Even if it was Damon, even if he had Ashborn—he couldn’t take it alone.

“I… I’ll help you—”

Damon shook his head.

“Go.”

Xander clenched his jaw. He knew that look. Damon wouldn’t leave. He wanted this fight. No, he needed it. He had fought against Damon before—he knew just how stubborn he was.

He exhaled sharply, then placed a hand on Evangeline’s shoulder.

A frustrated tear welled in her eye. She knew him just as well as Xander did.

“…Let’s go,” Xander murmured.

Evangeline sniffed, gripping her sword tighter.

Leona turned around, her ears twitching as the wind carried the distant roars of the war trolls. She understood the way of the warrior—she had been raised as one, born and bred for battle. But even so, this was her best friend. She clenched her teeth, her hands curling into trembling fists.

“If you die…” Her voice wavered, but she forced it out. “I’ll never forgive you…”

Matlock bit his lip, his wings fluttering anxiously as he hesitated, glancing back at Damon.

“I’ll see you on the other side… right?”

Damon didn’t respond. He simply stood there, staring vacantly into the distance.

That left Sylvia. Unlike the others, she refused to budge. She didn’t need to understand why he was doing this. She didn’t want to.

“You… you can win, right?” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

Damon remained impassive, his body trembling from the lingering pain. For a long moment, there was silence. Then, at last, he spoke.

“I don’t know…” His voice was quiet, yet heavy. “I always have a plan… or at least some odds of success. But this time, I don’t. I will most likely die… but I still don’t want to run. I’ve run enough for a lifetime.”

His hands clenched at his sides.

“I will fight… for this one pathetic life. I will fight for this life that I hate…”

Tears streamed down Sylvia’s face as the guttural grunts of the war trolls grew closer.

“I’m not leaving you,” she choked out. “I’m not—”

Evangeline and Xander grabbed her before she could lunge toward him.

“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing violently against their hold. “Please! We can’t go! You can’t—you’re too arrogant and selfish to give your life for someone else! Don’t start now! Please, Damon—please—no, no! Let me go!”

Damon exhaled slowly. His shadow stretched long beneath the dimming sun, twisting unnaturally, as if forming a dark abyss around him. A deep aura of dread settled in the air, filling their hearts with an instinctual fear.

He turned to Sylvia, and for the first time since he had left the forest, there was something—something that was Damon Grey—flickering in his eyes.

His lips parted, his voice a mere whisper.

“Put your faith not in any god… have faith in me.”

Sylvia froze. Xander and Evangeline loosened their hold, and she collapsed to her knees, biting down on her lip until it bled.

Then, she rose unsteadily to her feet. Without another word, she turned and ran, past Leona and Matlock.

Xander nodded grimly. Evangeline opened her mouth, but no words came.

As she left, she heard Damon’s final whisper.

“If I die… tell my sister I’m sorry. I stopped living for her. But just this once, let me follow death… let her give me what I’m owed.”

Evangeline ran, her tears glittering in the dying sunlight. She never heard the rest of Damon’s words, the ones he murmured under his breath, repeating the old epitaph he had once chanted to himself.

The war trolls’ hulking forms thundered forward, shaking the earth with their monstrous weight.

Damon stood his ground. He tightened his grip around his dagger as the shadows at his feet stirred hungrily, coiling around him like living tendrils.

“We are not asked to be born…”

The shadows surged, crawling up his limbs, weaving together into an inky black armor that hardened around his body.

He knelt, his head bowed, his voice a low prayer to the unknown. He finished the epitaph that had shaped his life.

“All things fade…”

Then, he rose, his eyes burning with a dire will. The ground trembled beneath him as the war trolls closed in.

“I offer the unknown god… your souls.”

The shadows flared violently in response. The very air around him seemed to shift, thickening with something unnatural—something hungry.