My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger - Chapter 811

Capítulo 811: Chapter 812: All His Prisoners

All said and done, Lazarak actually found a way to carry the cocoon with him. He had a soft smile on his face as he hummed, swaying side to side with each step.

As for the cocoon itself, Lazarak had strapped it to the back of the lesser demon Damon had been using as a mount.

Much to Damon’s dismay.

This was one lucky lesser demon. It was part of the original group Ashcroft had ordered to kill Damon and Abellona. But after Damon devoured Ashcroft and became the dominator, he seized the creature’s will. Since then it had hidden inside his shadow.

Whenever Damon wanted to flex and intimidate, he rode the lesser demon to cast a more fearsome image.

Now it was just carrying luggage for Lazarak. God or not, it was still luggage.

“Hm hm hum hum…” Lazarak hummed a small happy tune.

Damon shot him a sideways glance, a small frown tugging at his face, but said nothing.

Their triumph over the trials was not without consequence. The prisoners who dwelled in the Garden of Hunger sensed that Eidolon was breached and saw it as a chance to escape but the keys to every trial were in Damon’s hands.

That and Root Ore kept them in.

Their final stop before leaving mattered more than anything else. This was what would allow Lazarak to overcome the goddess.

The Lake of Tears.

Damon found himself standing before the shimmering waters once more, expression cold.

Last time he appraised it, it almost dragged him in.

Even now he could hear it whispering countless voices, countless hungers, endless desires threading through the air. He wondered what became of the lake in the future. Was it destroyed with Lazarak… or did it remain?

“We’re here. Now what?” Damon asked calmly.

“You’re not planning to put that on the back of my lesser demon, are you?”

Lazarak placed a hand on his chin, considering.

“I wish I could. Sadly, I’ll have to find another way.”

He raised his hand. A small sphere of darkness formed and swelled, slowly engulfing the pond-sized lake of tears.

The ground beneath the water vanished. The tree whose roots once drank from the lake vanished with it.

Lazarak dropped to his knees, clutching his head. Damon stepped in quickly, grabbing him by the shoulder before he could collapse face-first.

“Heheh… I knew I still had it in me…” Lazarak whispered.

“It was no big deal… I am a god, after all.”

Damon glanced at his pale face, worry flickering across his eyes.

“Yeah. Sure you are.”

Lazarak gave a weak smile.

“Now carry me. I can’t feel my legs… or any part of my body, for that matter.”

Damon sighed at the toddler-sized god.

He picked him up one-handed like a small sack and threw a look at the lesser demon.

“Let’s go.”

As he started forward, he paused something caught at the edge of his perception. An entity now sat where the tree once stood.

“Aren’t you leaving, Root Ore?” Damon asked.

The creature didn’t rise. He only stared toward the Garden of Hunger.

“I will not. I must keep those within this place… here.”

He turned slowly toward Damon.

“Close the door on your way out.”

Damon exhaled sharply, then extended his shadow perception. The passage to the next part of the prison should’ve been where the tree once stood. And after a brief search, he found it.

They moved through the mirror labyrinth where Damon had fought the mirror seraph. He had wisely returned its body here after using it.

As for its trump card, a feather of Seraph Null currently in Lazarak’s possession perhaps it would matter later.

Next came the library, where every book was a prisoner. The Archivist was nowhere to be found. Dead or gone, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t here.

After that, they reached the ruined castle where they had fought the Mother of Stillbirths. Then they arrived at the final stretch of the prison. In the wreckage of the goddess statue, the Hollow Saint stood unmoving, shoulders slumped like a man whose faith had been carved out.

Damon didn’t speak. He didn’t spare him a glance. He walked toward the final door.

Then the saint spoke.

“Verily, you will face him if you continue upon this path.”

He turned slowly, voice hollow.

“This is his realm… and we are all his prisoners. Everyone from the outside who has come here has never left. You will not return to Aetherus alive.”

Damon hoisted Lazarak higher on his shoulder, then smiled.

“They said the same thing about Eidolon. And here I am, about to walk out that door. If I want to leave. No one will stop me.”

His eyes narrowed to cold slits.

“Especially not some lesser god.”

He didn’t wait for the saint’s response. Nothing the man said would change his mind. Damon reached for the sealed door, and the stone groaned as it opened.

The saint closed his eyes and whispered a prayer.

“Then I wish you a thousand swift victories… and I pray you do not falter before the Seraph… as so many have before you…”

Sunlight washed over Damon’s skin as he breathed in the cold air. He was about to free Matia from his shadow when—

A crushing weight slammed down on him. Pressure flooded from every direction. His mana flow locked; he could sense ambient mana but couldn’t draw it in.

The pressure surged. A cold ringing cut through his skull, followed by the sensation of the very world trying to crush and expel him.

Lazarak fared no better. He let out a weak groan and passed out, body going stiff.

Damon grit his teeth as his body struggled to adapt. Inch by inch, he pushed himself upright through the invisible weight.

He looked back at the silver doors standing alone in the grassy plain.

Then he looked down at the unconscious Lazarak and slapped him across the face without hesitation.

“Wake up.”