My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger

They didn't need to check for tracks. They already knew he was running through the forest at breakneck speed.

Saladiriel narrowed his eyes. They were roughly twenty-five in number, plus a dozen Griffin riders.

All tasked with assassinating one boy.

Honestly, he wasn't going to lie — he thought it was overkill to send this many people in the third class advancement after a single boy the same age as the princess.

Each of them were assassins raised in the Moon Glades. They had battle experience and a wealth of bodies — so many, they could collectively fill a river with just the blood on their hands.

Yet they had chased this boy for miles. Not only had they failed to catch him, but he had shot down two of them. They were dead now.

The riders were lightly injured from the fall from the sky.

Saladiriel narrowed his eyes at the archery the boy used.

"Is he a spy of the Silver Glades?"

That was what came to mind as he followed the mark on him. If not the Silver Glades, where would one learn such a style of archery? A double-layered shot and the way the arrows flew, matching the unique breathing of the elves of the Silver Glades.

He pulled the reins of his stag, signaling for his group to fan out and box the boy in.

That would explain a lot. It seemed their neighbors — the Silver Glades — were plotting again. And this boy must be an instrumental spy.

No wonder the royal family wanted him dead.

Though he had heard rumors from some men in the royal guard…

Some nonsense about the princess and this boy.

Nevertheless, he would not believe it. But if this wretch had been sent to seduce their sweet and impressionable princess, he would personally present his head to the king and queen.

Saladiriel finally saw it. He paused.

The princess getting possessed by a dark spirit must have been part of his schemes.

Saladiriel stopped his stag. The terrain was changing — and the wretch was not alone. He had a female fairy knight with him. She was good at hiding too.

Still, he was in awe of the queen's oracle powers once again. She must have seen through his schemes.

He placed his hand on the communication orb on his chest. This was a secure line to the royal family. The fact it was already noon and the boy wasn't dead was putting a stain on the reputation of him and his squad.

"I shall kill him and report to the queen within the hour."

This was a great honor — one he rarely had. It was not often he got to skip the chain of command and report directly to the king or queen.

The rocky terrain was hard on this stag breed. While they were fast, they were not built for this terrain.

The slower moose types were best for this due to their powerful hooves — or the giant goat types.

His men sent him a message.

They were breaking off into smaller squads to trap the target.

He acknowledged their request. This was the plan — to tire the prey out.

He glanced at his hand where there was an artifact tracking the movement of the boy. He had reached the dark parts of the terrain — high slope rocks and trees. The place was quite dark even in the day.

"You cannot hide from us, boy…"

Then slowly, the icon on the map stopped moving.

He smiled.

It was clear the boy had gotten exhausted from their relentless hunt. Killing him was well and fine — but catching him alive would be even better.

They could torture him for information — and who he was reporting to.

He raised his hand, signaling for his men to surround the area.

He walked into the darkness. The deep shadows of the trees and rocks did nothing to halt his movement. He easily moved across the terrain…

The smile on his face was almost reaching his eyes. He could see it now — the praise he would get from completing this mission.

The king and queen would certainly be pleased.

Then he climbed over a huge rock… the boy was just around the corner.

He waved his hand at his men… those close to him were less than he recalled.

They must have split further to corner the prey. After all, they were in the third class — he was merely second class.

Slowly, he reached for his waist, pulling out his blade… and turned the corner expecting some degree of resistance.

But when he turned, all he saw was blood pooling on the rocks and soil… and the soft sound of blood dripping.

There was a faint sound of human blood dripping… yes, this was human blood — not the blood of his fellow elves.

But what he saw was not the corpse of the dark-haired human boy, Damon Grey.

No.

In its place was a single human arm. It had been cut off and was covered in dripping blood…

There was a bloody dagger used to nail the arm to the rock.

Saladiriel paused for a moment when he noticed his men were surprisingly quiet — more so than they were supposed to be…

But what happened here was, without a doubt, a simple affair. A simple ruthless affair.

It was not one of the elves that had caught Damon.

No.

The boy had known the mark on his arm gave his location away to them — and that he could not go out of its range.

So like a beast ripping off a piece of its body to survive… he had willingly stopped and cut off his own limb.

He had used this dagger to cut off his own arm and nailed it to the rock — leading them here to this spot.

Was this not the most ruthless act he had seen a teenager commit? The decisiveness to willingly cut off his own arm… and lead them to this spot.

When his thoughts reached that point, he froze. A lot of his men had gathered here.

This place… he looked up.

It was closed off. It looked like a good hiding place — except the trees here created a direct view to the skyline.

As soon as he made that conjecture, he looked up at the sky… and there he saw an angel in armor.

His eyes widened.

Because that wasn't an angel.

No. It was the fairy that was with him.

And in the sky, she had created hundreds of spears made of ice — and they were falling.

It was too late. They were caught in the open — boxed in by the very land they had thought would trap him.

In the distant forest, he heard one of his men send out a distress flare… but he was in no position to help.

The cold icicles of death fell.

There was too much noise to hear any other sounds.

Death was thunderous.

As he felt it — ice pierced his body.

He gasped out blood.

"It… was a trap."