My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger-Chapter 229 : Red Caps

He felt the sensation of blood dripping down his legs. Slowly and weakly, he opened his eyes, finding the world upside down with a stream of red running down the side of his face.

A groan escaped his lips as pain flared through his body. He raised his head, only to find his leg impaled by a jagged branch. The torn flesh throbbed with every heartbeat. Gritting his teeth, he leaned up with a huff, reaching his hand toward the bloody wound. His fingers pressed against the sticky warmth of his own blood before he snapped the branch with a sharp crack. The moment the restraint gave way, he plummeted several meters, landing on the hard ground with a dull thud.

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"Arrgh…" he groaned, his breath ragged.

Pain surged through his body, but he forced himself to stand, his leg aching and his body battered. He glanced around, his instincts kicking in as he spread his shadow perception outward. The sensation of darkness slithered across the terrain, mapping out a two-kilometer radius. What he sensed was unfamiliar—a vast forest, its dense trees broken only by patches of rocky terrain.

The presence of fauna flickered at the edge of his perception, yet something far more concerning caught his attention. In the distance, beyond his shadow sense, a violet glow pulsed in the sky, casting an eerie light over the horizon. Brief tremors rumbled beneath his feet, faint but unmistakable. Whatever was causing them was far away—for now.

His perception also picked up something else—his friends were close by, their shadows distinct. Relief barely had time to settle before another discovery sent a chill down his spine. He spotted footprints—massive, humanoid prints with three stubby toes.

His jaw tightened. He had no idea what kind of monster had left those tracks, and he had no desire to find out.

Shaking off the unease, he scanned the area and spotted his supply bag lying on the ground, its contents scattered. Limping toward it, he knelt and rummaged through the mess, pulling out a healing potion. Without hesitation, he downed the liquid in one gulp, feeling the searing burn as it worked its magic. He poured some over his wounds before unsealing a bandage wrap to sterilize and bind his injured leg.

Securing the bag to his back, he tightened his grip on his bow, his quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder.

"Better keep the cursed ore arrows hidden," he muttered. The last thing he needed was to attract monsters with the volatile energy those arrows radiated.

With his shadow perception spread wide, he moved swiftly yet silently, keeping his senses sharp. His gaze flicked to the sun, estimating how much daylight remained. They needed to regroup before nightfall.

He knew nothing about the monsters lurking in this place, but facing them on their home turf at night would be suicide. More importantly, they were lost. This wasn't part of the academy's plans.

His mind replayed the moment before everything went wrong—the bracelet on his wrist had glowed right before the teleportation. This was sabotage. Someone wanted him gone, and his friends had been dragged along as collateral damage.

The summoner.

It had to be the same person who had summoned the dark spirit, Rashi Ignath. He had ruined their plans before, and this was their revenge.

And they had struck at the worst possible time, in the most vicious way.

Now, here he was, lost in an unknown region, surrounded by Goddess knows what kind of horrors.

Damon stepped over a fallen log, his pace quickening as he moved with precision. He halted by a small stream where a brown-haired young man lay motionless, his academy combat uniform dirtied from the fall. A spear rested at his side.

Damon approached, crouching beside him and pressing two fingers to the man's neck. A faint pulse.

A sigh of relief almost escaped him—almost. Realizing he was doing something out of character, he quickly scowled, as if he had just swallowed a toad.

He clicked his tongue.

"Tsk. Still alive."

Without another word, he grabbed Xander, gave him a quick once-over for injuries, and, upon finding none, tossed him into the stream with a loud splash.

The cold water jolted Xander awake, and he flailed, gasping for air.

Damon watched, completely indifferent.

"Sleep on your own time."

Xander quickly scrambled to the bank, his clothes soaked, dripping from head to toe. He coughed and glared at Damon, his lips curling into a mocking smirk.

"Damn you."

Damon smiled, though it lacked any warmth.

"Darn, you survived. I was hoping you wouldn't."

Xander snorted, shaking the water from his hair.

"Not a chance."

Damon turned away, already walking into the dense woods.

"Where are you going?" Xander called out.

Damon didn't bother looking back.

"To find the others. Grab your bag—we're in unfamiliar terrain."

Xander grumbled under his breath but followed, his boots squelching against the damp earth. Damon moved with purpose, leaving behind almost no tracks. Xander, on the other hand, stomped through the underbrush with far less grace.

"Where are you leading us?" Xander asked, his frustration growing. "And where the hell are we?"

Damon sighed, his patience thinning.

"To find the others. And I have no idea."

Xander frowned. Damon wasn't the type to act without reason. But the uncertainty of their situation made his heart pound.

"How are you so calm right now?"

Damon raised a brow, noting Xander's uneasy posture—the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched near his weapon. He was trying to hide it, but Damon could see through him.

"How are you not?"

Xander clenched his fists. He had seen monster footprints, claw marks deep in the bark of trees. Worse, Damon had dried blood on him. Yet, instead of worrying about himself, he seemed in a hurry to find the others.

"This area has monsters. What do we do?"

Damon barely gave it a thought.

"We fight or we die." His tone was casual, as if stating a simple fact. "But for now, we regroup and weigh our options."

Then, suddenly, his eyes sharpened. He raised a hand.

"We found the girls."

In the distance, three figures emerged from the treeline—Leona, Sylvia, and Evangeline.

Leona carried a massive sword, resting it casually over her shoulder. Sylvia had her bow in hand, and Evangeline's rapier was soaked in blood.

Damon immediately noticed the tension in their movements. But more than that—he noticed the blood on their weapons.

Xander exhaled, relieved. "Glad you guys are okay."

The girls nodded, though their expressions were grim.

"We're fine. No one was hurt," Leona assured. "But we did…"

Damon cut her off. "Run into some monsters."

Sylvia nodded. "Yeah."

Damon's gaze darkened. "What kind?"

Evangeline gripped her sword, her voice steady but cold.

"Goblins. Red Cap Goblins."

Damon cursed under his breath. He already knew where this was going.

Leona stepped forward, tossing an ornate horn onto the ground between them. It was blackened, adorned with bat wings and a sword insignia, flanked by two curved horns.

Damon's fists clenched.

The insignia of the Demon Army.

They were scouts.