My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

Leona and Xander moved toward Sylvia, standing beside her with wine glasses in hand.

Leona had a plate to the side—no, not a plate—a tray stacked with food. Seeing someone's arm get sliced off hadn't even made her blink, much less lose her appetite. She took a bite, chewed slowly, then downed her drink.

"Hmm. He's really holding back."

Xander glanced at her. "You shouldn't eat and talk... but yes. He's only cutting off their arms."

Their casual commentary didn't go unnoticed.

But the other nobles were too stunned to speak. Sure, he'd been challenged to a duel. Sure, the terms were fair. But still—he was a commoner. And here he was, calmly dismantling noble sons like weeds.

A disgrace. A scandal. A monster.

A pity they didn't know Damon Grey better. If they did, they'd understand.

He wouldn't have cared either way.

The duel might have spared him legal consequences, but it had earned him enemies. Bad impressions. Resentment.

Still, Damon wasn't done.

Now that he had a weapon in hand, the air changed.

He weaved through spells and steel. Parried a bolt of lightning. Melted into shadows as jagged spikes of earth shot toward him. He moved like liquid, unbothered.

He grabbed a noble and used him as a shield, placing the man's body between himself and a concussive sound attack.

The noble gasped, coughed up blood—lungs nearly ruptured.

Damon cut off both his arms in the next breath.

It wasn't even a fight.

It was a demonstration.

Cassian watched quietly, sipping from his wine glass.

"That technique he used at the start… wasn't that Radiant Blade?"

The Grand Duke chuckled. "Hehe. As expected of my grandson. Such mastery of our family's style…"

Cassian resisted the urge to facepalm. "That's not the point. The point is where did he learn it?"

The Grand Duke shrugged. "Well, either my daughter taught him… or yours did."

Cassian narrowed his eyes, glancing toward Evangeline.

'She wouldn't dare teach him Brightwater techniques. Would she?'

He gave her a long look.

'Or maybe… she figured something out.'

His eyes then drifted to Lilith Astranova.

'You vile old man… don't tell me you're planning to use this as an excuse to keep him here.'

The Grand Duke was smiling faintly, just watching the battle unfold.

"Assuming Evangeline taught him… if she didn't, he'll deny it. Over and over."

Cassian sighed again. Damon's swordplay wasn't just Brightwater style. There was something else. A technique that let him strike in a full circle around himself—fluid and defensive, yet with crushing precision.

"What beautiful swordplay… it can also be offensive as well."

Back on the floor, Damon ducked under an axe swing, parried a hammer, and pivoted smoothly behind his opponent.

They got in each other's way.

No synergy. No teamwork. Just desperate nobles flailing for validation.

He pinned the last armed noble down and cut off his arm, like it was routine.

Blood soaked into the marble floor. Damon stood in the center, a figure bath in blood, eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his hood.

Lord Garrick knelt, still clutching his stump, shock and fear swimming in his eyes. He trembled.

"This… this can't be real. It's not real. It's an illusion. You're not real…"

Damon stared at him. The guy was broken. Shattered. He hadn't fainted, which was impressive. He was still technically conscious.

The sword in Damon's hand began to change—its metal warped, engulfed in the flames of Ashborn.

The heat bent the steel. Shadows danced across its surface.

Damon didn't want to make him suffer. He was tired. He just wanted to leave.

"Forfeit."

Garrick's lips quivered. "I… are… are you… even human?"

Damon crouched. Without a word, he pressed the burning blade into Garrick's open wound.

A wail ripped from his lungs—a jagged, broken scream that echoed like a dying animal.

Ashborn didn't just burn. It scorched souls. It tore flesh and spirit both. The blade hissed against him, a cruel baptism of torment.

Damon stopped—just before the youth passed out.

Then he casually kicked Garrick in the head.

Unconscious.

Done.

The entire ballroom had fallen silent.

Damon turned toward the Grand Duke.

"I am victorious."

The Grand Duke gave a satisfied nod. "The victor is Damon. The defeated shall each pay 30 million zeni."

Still, he never once said the name Grey.

Lilith stepped forward from the crowd, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

She smiled. "Seems I won't be kissing anyone tonight. Thank you for defending my honor. I'm sure no one will jump to conclusions about me again."

Damon nodded, wondering how far ahead she'd planned all this. Had she anticipated this outcome? Or simply adapted as things unfolded?

He turned toward the Grand Duke, voice steady.

"I've created an unsightly scene tonight, Your Grace. I have spoiled the mood of your festivities. It would be rude of me to impose any further. My honor will not allow me to remain."

Lilith bowed beside him, graceful as ever.

"My apologies for the intrusion. A formal apology will follow."

The Grand Duke hadn't expected such swift initiative. But with Damon making it a matter of honor, there was nothing he could say to stop him.

Before he could respond, a ripple of space swallowed them both—Lilith had already teleported them away.

The Grand Duke stared at the empty space they had left behind.

"I didn't expect him to be so… honor bound."

He muttered it just loud enough for others to hear.

It would be unsightly to force him to stay.

Evangeline gave him a long look.

She sighed.

"Honor bound… Damon….he has no idea."

But it was too late. Damon was gone.

He had stolen the night.

He had carved another line into the legend of Damon Grey.

The Grand Duke turned without another word.

"Continue with the festivities… without me."

But everyone in the ballroom knew the truth.

The ball was over.

The press rushed to leave—eager to be the first to spread the tale.

The Grand Duke's steps echoed through the hall. His face was dark. His patience thin.

The Astranova girl had stolen his grandson.

And someone had dared… to break into his quarters.

"Today is just not my day… It won't be yours either, intruder."