My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Lilith glared at the group of young nobles—brainless dolts who believed the world revolved around them.

The only egotistical maniac she had room for in her life was Damon.

There was no space for fools.

At the center stood a long-haired youth, clearly of ember folk heritage, with sharp red hair and piercing green eyes.

"I, Count Garrick Vellorian of House Vellorian, formally challenge Damon the Ascendant to a duel," he declared with disdain, voice echoing across the ballroom.

"If you're as great as I've heard… why don't you show us?"

Damon regarded him coolly. He was already in a foul mood—seeing Lilith had softened it slightly. But now this fool… this fool had chosen the worst possible time to poke the hornets' nest.

Lilith's eyes were already murderous, her mouth opening to unleash verbal devastation—

But Damon raised his hand, stopping her.

If they wanted a show, then fine. He'd give them a spectacle.

Besides, it gave him a chance to gauge the Grand Duke's intentions. An excuse to leave once it was over.

His eyes flicked toward a dark-haired woman in the far corner—Matia. She was still, silent, watching him from the shadows. Without needing a word, she understood. She glanced downward at the tiny shadow waving up at her—then sank into it.

She vanished, returning to Damon.

With that out of the way…

He turned back toward the nobles. The Grand Duke, clearly irritated by their foolishness, said nothing—likely not wanting to interrupt the fervor of "hot-blooded youth."

After all, this was Soltheon, the War Continent. Here, power was law—the only law. Violence wasn't just tolerated—it was encouraged. Sparring during formal gatherings was a tradition.

Damon knew the custom well.

Violence was the most ancient law. Born from order—and order from conflict. It was conflict that gave rise to a desire for strength.

'After all, we are all influenced by the Pillar of Conflict hidden in this world.'

He shook his head slightly, eyes moving over the noble youths. All of them were older than him—some well into their late twenties. By comparison, Damon was still a teenager.

Yet it was hard to tell. After class advancement, age became irrelevant. Time did little to touch the faces of the powerful.

Still, they were bold. Some in the First Class, others in the Second. They saw this as a chance to crush the commoner, to steal the fame he hadn't even asked for.

"I would have liked to avoid this…" Damon began.

One of them sneered. "Is Lord Ascendant scared?"

The ballroom fell into a hush. A murmur rippled through the gathered nobles. Reporters snapped images from magical devices.

Damon smiled under his hood.

"You see, this isn't quite fair… There are nearly ten of you in the Second Class. The rest are First."

Garrick cut in quickly, worried Damon might try to weasel out.

"Heheh. No need to be scared. We'll fight one-on-one."

Damon shook his head, his hood swaying slightly.

"No. That's not what I meant." He raised his voice.

"There aren't nearly enough of you to make a difference. You guys… are kind of weak."

He released Lilith's hand and took a step forward.

"You can all attack together. It'll save time."

Garrick glanced at another noble, both visibly insulted.

He forced a mocking smile. "Aren't you being a bit too arrogant?"

Damon gave a slight shrug.

"The arrogance… is you thinking you stand a chance."

He glanced at the Grand Duke.

"I'll give His Grace face and allow you to walk away with your lives…. No need to thank me."

Garrick was too stunned to be angry. Never in his life had he met anyone this blatantly arrogant. There were ten of them in the second class… and Damon made them sound like insects.

The young nobles glanced at one another—and then burst into laughter.

"Lord Ascendant, you ought to put your money where your mouth is. That hood you wear—you must think you're better than everyone here, hiding your face. I'll make you eat it."

Damon sneered beneath the hood.

This talking was getting annoying.

Cassian turned toward his father.

"Are we going to allow this?"

The Grand Duke shook his head calmly.

"It's fine. This is a common tradition. If he didn't want to fight, he'd have said no. Besides…" His voice dipped, amused.

"That egotistical personality that thinks he's the sun in the sky… is just like my grandson."

Cassian sighed. Still, this was the perfect opportunity to measure Damon's strength.

The nobles may have been arrogant, but they weren't slouches. All of them were well-trained.

As the ballroom parted, Garrick approached the Grand Duke with his entourage following.

He knelt before the duke.

"With your permission, Your Grace… we invoke the right of duel in the name of the Goddess of Doom."

Cassian's gaze returned to Damon, who hadn't moved.

The Grand Duke nodded.

"Granted. What are the rules of combat and the prize of victory?"

Lilith smiled softly, then stepped forward.

"It seems I may have unintentionally caused this. So, I would like to offer the prize."

She raised her hand.

"The victor shall receive a kiss from me. The loser… shall pay 30 million zeni. In the case of Count Garrick's group, they will each pay individually."

She continued, "They will fight until unconsciousness or concession. Furthermore, there will be no consequences to the victor—regardless of outcome."

Damon narrowed his eyes.

Of course Lilith would do this. She turned every situation into opportunity.

Who said disaster couldn't become fortune?

He clenched his fist.

He would never—ever—allow her to kiss any of these fools.

Not in any lifetime.

The Grand Duke looked to both sides.

"Do you accept the terms?"

Garrick didn't hesitate. A chance to kiss Lilith Astranova? At this point, even those who weren't part of the challenge originally were now stepping in.

The Grand Duke sighed and waved his hand. A brilliant light surged across the ballroom, conjuring a glowing dueling ring that expanded the available space.

By the time the ring was conjured, fifteen nobles stood on one end—all eager to taste blood or kiss the girl.

They all stepped in.

Damon was the last, standing alone at the opposite side.

His party watched with detached expressions.

Leona glanced at Xander.

"Hey… you don't think he's going to kill them, right?"

Xander shook his head. His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"No. With how irritated he seems… I'd say he'll make them beg to die instead."

That single sentence silenced the entire ballroom.

And then it began—

A colossal surge of mana erupted from Damon's body.

A suffocating killing intent followed, so thick it froze the air in place. Shadows stretched along the floor. The light dimmed. The temperature dropped.

And all of them—all the fifteen —felt it:

They were not facing a boy. They were facing something else.

"Death."