This whole situation was weird. Why was Lazarak repeating himself, and why was Damon also suggesting the same thing considered an inflection point?

Damon wanted to sigh, but he couldn't. Right now, he had leveled up twice, and in doing so, gained a new skill.

The Shadow Seizer skill his most recent level-up had also granted him Darkness Dominate, a fragment belonging to his domination attribute.

[Darkness Dominate.]

He whispered the words softly, trying to take control of the darkness around him. For a moment, it stirred slowly rolling toward him, responding faintly to his will until…

"What are you doing…" Lazarak's voice cut through the gloom, halting the movement. The darkness froze, and Damon's shadow form flickered, then stilled completely.

Ignoring him, Damon focused inward, curiosity pricking at the edges of his mind as he inspected his new skill.

[Shadow Seizer]

[Description]

Her anger justified her sorrow, sacred.

What sin had she committed, save for being born beneath a Weeping Star, branded with the Bride of the Demon God attribute?

She never begged for that blighted gift, nor its cruel and unending boon.

Yet the old gods gazed upon her as a prize to claim—or a threat to erase.

These ancient, amoral deities, blind to mortal agony, could not fathom the weight of the torment they had sown.

And those who came bearing malice only deepened her despair.

Full of spite, she swore to seize her fate.

And to the author of her misery, the Unknown God,

she would repay in kind.

Years later, now a true god,

she faced the abyss only to find a mindless void.

The great enemy she had envisioned had not even been born.

There was nothing to seize—

only the shadow of what could've been.

[Effect]

A vile, insidious act of plundering the living shadow of your victims.

Take hostage the essence of what they are and hold their fates in yours.

[Type]

Active

[Cooldown]

5 secs

Damon paused. It had been a long time since the system had given such a detailed description one he could actually piece together.

The "her" in this description was obviously referring to the Goddess of Doom.

Damon knew that true gods were once mortals, which meant they must have been born like all mortals. The Weeping Star was often associated with the Unknown God. He was called The Weeping Star.

'The goddess, before she became a goddess, was likely born under The Weeping Star…'

Damon kept his thoughts to himself.

'Bride of the Demon God wasn't a title, it was an attribute.'

His flames flickered, his dark form stretching slightly as his mind processed the implication.

The old gods soon took an interest in her, but it was already established that these beings were amoral. Their understanding of mortals was twisted, acts of help could be more devastating than malice, and their cruelty was no less abominable.

The final part of the description hinted that after the goddess became a true god, she had wanted the Unknown God to answer for his injustice against her. Yet when she reached the abyss, she found only emptiness.

"The god who predated his own birth…"

Damon murmured, his tone almost reflective.

He couldn't help but feel a faint trace of sadness. To him, Doom was the enemy more so than the Unknown God but apart from killing him once, she hadn't truly acted against him since.

'Is Doom really the enemy? Or is she just another victim of that bastard?'

Then there was the Unknown, whose motives were as unclear as ever.

But wasn't this him speaking? Wasn't the Unknown the one who shared knowledge through the system panel?

Everything seemed suspicious.

Damon decided not to dwell on it for now. There were more immediate concerns like understanding the skill itself.

The skill allowed him to steal the shadows of others. A dangerous and potent ability. Damon knew that if a shadow was destroyed, its owner would die.

After distributing his new stat points, he began inspecting his current form in detail.

It was still his body or what remained of it damaged and stripped down to a heart and a crown. Chains dug deep into the shadows around him, merging into what was technically still part of his form.

Or what was left of it.

These chains prevented him from summoning Matia or even accessing his shadow storage. He was bound. Trapped.

"If only there was a way to break or disable these chains… even for a moment."

He muttered the words, not realizing how loud they echoed through the void until Lazarak responded.

"That would be difficult, but doable."

Lazarak's calm, detached voice resonated faintly through the darkness.

Damon's shadow flickered.

"How many minutes can you disable them for?"

Lazarak chuckled softly, a dry clicking sound that reverberated unnaturally.

"One second. No more. However…" He paused, his tone growing cautious.

"I won't do that. Those chains are our only way of escape. The mechanism that controls them lies on the floors above us."

His voice echoed faintly, weighted by centuries of waiting.

"If only we had someone who could reach there. Best to wait a few hundred years… let the chains corrode a little more."

Damon's form flickered violently.

"I understand your caution, but I can't wait a few hundred years. One second is more than enough for what I have in mind."

Lazarak sighed softly. The darkness stirred around Damon, shifting into vague, formless silhouettes that slithered beyond sight.

"Very well, then. I will trust you, friend. But if you fail, I'll nag you about this for the next few hundred years."

Damon's voice darkened with humor.

"I would be so traumatized… I'll have to succeed now, won't I?"

Lazarak laughed lightly, and with a rushing whoosh, the darkness spread upward. The sound of trembling metal followed the chains rattling violently as the shadows around them writhed.

Damon focused completely, his perception narrowing into his shadow storage, ready to pull out Matia, Ghost, and anything else he could summon.

Then, in that fleeting second, he felt one of the chains weaken its power faltering. In that instant, the crushing weight he hadn't realized was there lifted from him, and without hesitation, he reached deep into the shadows and pulled out everything he could.

The darkness spat out a storm of objects, food, potions, weapons, twisted bits of metal, and scraps of things long forgotten.

Lazarak watched with mild disappointment.

"…Ahhh, I knew it. I knew you would fail. I just knew it."

Damon scoffed as two distinct figures began to rise from the shadows, standing before his formless heart and crown on the altar.

Lazarak cleared his throat immediately.

"I never doubted you."

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