My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger - Chapter 774

Chapter 774: Chapter 775: Where Are We Really?
For whatever reason Damon could not focus, yet the Trial of Truth had carved a strange clarity into his mind.

That clarity was why he now stood before the sleeping Mirror Seraph, its glassy body rising and falling in slow breaths that made faint ripples across its reflective skin. The stillness of the creature mirrored the hall around it, a hall where every sound seemed to echo twice.

A deep unease curled inside him whenever he thought about Lazarak’s authority. The realization that peace could be forced with such domineering power disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

When he had invoked Serenity, the Mirror Seraph had not accepted peace. It had been compelled into it, its will crushed beneath Lazarak’s nature.

‘How is this any different from the domination attribute?’ he muttered inwardly while studying the creature’s slumbering form.

Across the chamber, Lazarak stood quietly beside the goddess statue, hands clasped behind his back while preparing for the next trial. His dark robes barely moved, as if the air itself respected him.

Damon lowered his gaze. The Trial of Truth had stripped him bare. He had been afraid to face his fears, but admitting them had forced him to face his hopes as well.

“Matia…” he whispered.

The tall, stalwart shadow stood a meter behind him. Her armor barely made a sound, yet the faint tilt of her head told him she was attentive. Her gaze remained on the Mirror Seraph but her shadowed presence felt colder than the cathedral itself.

“Waton is dead… I really did not want him to die. I was arrogant thinking I held power over life and death in the War Games…”

Matia stayed silent. Damon almost missed the days when she spoke more, even when she did not understand anything she said. Even her useless comments had been reassuring.

But her silence now felt right. She was here to listen, nothing more, and that was all he needed.

“If we get back… I am going to keep my promise. I will give him an expensive funeral…”

He remembered joking about the foolish prince, swearing he would give him the most extravagant funeral imaginable.

Damon’s chest tightened. In his heart he vowed that the prince’s already royal funeral would become a national event.

He said if because a new doubt had begun gnawing at him.

What if he did not survive this place?

“If I do not live to the end… this is my will. Pass it to my grandfather.”

Matia’s eyes flickered. The movement was small but unmistakable. She did not ask anything.

Asking would have meant accepting that he truly might die.

Damon slowly extended his hand and brushed his fingertips against the Mirror Seraph’s cool, glassy wing. Its surface quivered faintly at the contact.

“My second truth… I was afraid to hope. I did not want disappointment. But I cannot pretend anymore. Matia… everyone might still be alive.”

His voice trembled, as if the hope might shatter the moment he admitted it. The fear of finding only the broken corpses of his friends made his stomach twist.

“Why do you think so…” Matia asked softly. There was a faint shimmer in her voice, a restrained excitement she tried to hide.

Damon breathed out and allowed himself a small smile.

“It does not make sense for them to die. The Unknown God is not the type to destroy all his pieces like that. His setup is too complex.”

Matia shifted slightly as she followed his reasoning.

“Lilith is his priestess. Her power comes from an act of love. She carries his divine blessing, not his demonic nature. He would not let her suffer pointlessly when the price for her power was already paid.”

He recalled Ishana, Lilith’s nanny, who had prayed desperately for her life. The Unknown God had answered her in full. Ishana had been a priestess of the Snake Temple.

“The Unknown God is a god… but somehow I think he hates gods,” Damon said under his breath.

“Why is he always condemning divine indifference? Why question why suffering exists if gods exist… only he talks like that.”

He crossed his fingers, grounding himself.

“Then there is Sylvia.”

Matia tilted her head.

“You mean his journey book.”

Damon shot her a surprised look.

“You could see it.”

Matia nodded calmly.

“I could see it since I became a shadow.”

“Why did you not say anything?”

“It was not important,” she replied without hesitation.

“It was not important? That is the Unknown God’s book. Ah… forget it…” Damon groaned and rubbed his forehead.

Her casual tone made him want to sink into the floor.

He exhaled slowly.

“Sylvia is not expendable. I doubt he created her for a single purpose. If we think about it, the book might be an extension of his power.”

Matia glanced down at her armor, running a finger along her frost glazed plate as if demonstrating her point.

“It is like bringing a sword into a ballroom. If I was not allowed to carry a weapon inside, I would disguise it as cutlery and place it in a child’s hands.”

She spoke as if discussing the weather.

Damon blinked. She was treating Sylvia like a misplaced utensil, but she was not wrong.

“The child would not know the weapon’s true power. She would just stab people with it like a fork. And when you wanted it back, you would take it.” Damon added softly.

Matia nodded, utterly unbothered by the analogy.

“The possibility that they are dead is unlikely. The Unknown God likes to retrieve variables he might need again.”

Damon nodded back, steadier now.

“Yes. That is what I fear and hope. Everyone consumed by nightmares should be alive.”

He remembered the moment the blackness swallowed everything. Those touched by it turned hollow and dark, as if their souls were pulled out.

If that was the case then Waton’s sacrifice was for nothing.

The darkness was not death and they all had been touched by it.

His fist tightened.

“Everyone else might be expendable… but not those two. The Unknown God needs them alive. Which leads us to our most important question, Matia.”

“Where are we really?”

He looked at her. She met his eyes with quiet certainty.

“We are in a dream,” she said. “We are dreaming the Nightmare of Lazarak.”