SSS Transmigration: I Can Extract And Evolve Overpowered Shadows-Chapter 29: The Ones Who Understand Pain (1)

Hinata’s breath caught in his throat as the weight bearing down on him tripled.

It wasn’t as though he was foolish or trying to act cool in front of the red-eyed woman. He was simply gauging the situation.

Clearly, she had something to do with the shadow core’s creation, and perhaps, because of the appearance of Albedo and the others from the church, her plans had fallen apart.

Hinata cursed and thanked his luck at the same time.

On one hand, Albedo and the church had discovered the cultists’ movements, causing their strongest members to be absent from the ritual, which gave him a chance to escape.

On the other hand, however, Albedo’s relentless attacks were what led him to this town in the first place.

All of this was still speculation, but Hinata couldn’t help but see some truth in his theory. After all, it was strange for a group of weaklings to be the ones attempting to awaken a god.

Tamara raised her hand to cover her face.

She let out a long, pained laugh, then locked her cold gaze onto him. "What did you just say?"

Hinata didn’t respond, letting his subtle smirk speak for him.

Tamara’s rage surged forth, veins bulging along her pale hands as she stretched them forward.

Instantly, the mana pressing him down vanished. Hinata tried to draw in a breath, only for Tamara to form a massive fist of smoke and punch him out of the building.

His body was hurled through the wall with enough force to shatter his bones if he hadn’t been awakened.

The moment he was sent flying, Tamara formed another large hand, catching him midair before tossing him like an unwanted doll toward the ground.

The force was overwhelming, slamming Hinata into the earth before he could react.

The ground beneath him shattered, debris scattering in all directions. Still, Hinata pushed himself to his feet, blood pooling at the edges of his lips.

His gaze swept across the second district of Falmouth, near the central hall. The streets were still crowded with people, making him question his initial theory.

"I thought you said everyone in the city was dead?"

Tamara, now floating in the sky with the aid of her smoke, stared down at him with cold indifference. "I never said they were all dead. I only said they aren’t truly living."

Hinata wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "You really don’t like to speak straightforwardly, do you? But I think I understand what’s going on... though," he paused, offering a smile so gentle it was almost saintly, "I would really like to know how big bro Noctis is doing these days."

His words hadn’t fully left his lips before an even more enraged Tamara lunged at him, grabbing for his throat, only for his body to dissolve into the wind.

"I guess I hit the right spot, huh?" His voice came from behind her this time, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, though it didn’t match the coldness in his eyes. "I would like to know—are you some ancient race seeking revenge?"

Ever since his transmigration, Hinata had felt the world was constantly toying with him.

First the shadow god’s chamber, then Albedo, then the goblins, and now Falmouth City.

But maybe the world wasn’t at fault. It was the people in it who had orchestrated his death long before he even arrived.

The shadow god wasn’t a true god. It was no wonder the other gods hadn’t made a move, even though they clearly knew of the cultists’ existence.

Made by merging the seven gods?

What a load of bullshit.

Hinata could bet anything that wasn’t the case.

He took a deliberate step forward, bloodied hands in his pockets. "So let me get this straight. You, the fox girl, and big bro Noctis are from a single weak, fallen race, right?"

Tamara immediately lunged again, only for his form to dissolve into the wind once more, another appearing at a distance.

"Shut it, you bastard! How dare you call the Dragonforge lineage weak!"

"So, Dragonforge it is then. Thanks for clearing that up," he taunted with a casual gesture.

Hinata wasn’t a stranger to fantasy tropes, and it seemed this world had plenty of them.

"From your names, it seems you were a race of mystic beasts with a god. Perhaps the eighth god, am I right?"

This time, Tamara didn’t lunge, but her gaze sharpened, cold enough to kill.

Seeing her hold back, Hinata continued, stepping closer slowly. "Your god was betrayed by the remaining seven, causing your clan to fall into decline, yes?"

"How do you know all this?" Tamara asked calmly.

Hinata shrugged. "You wouldn’t believe me if I said it was just intuition, would you?" He let out a soft chuckle. "After your god died, your race wanted revenge and foolishly tried to attack the gods."

This time, he wasn’t going to remain the passive recipient of other people’s schemes.

"The gods wiped most of you out, leaving only a few survivors. So you took their souls, along with that of your god, and some residual energy from the other seven gods, to create the shadow core as a means of revival."

He placed a hand beneath his chin in thought. "Then what did you do next?" Before Tamara could respond, he snapped his fingers. "Let me guess. You sacrificed as many humans as possible, because to you, humans are just insects meant to serve your goals. Fucking double standards."

Tamara clenched her jaw and shouted, "What the hell would you even know?!"

Hinata shrugged again. "Nothing, actually. After all, my weak clan wasn’t slaughtered for being weak, and I didn’t turn around and do the same to other races for that same reason."

Tamara laughed loudly at his words. "You really are from another world, aren’t you? Looking at you, your life must have been filled with nothing but comfort, never facing danger or hardship. But things are different for us. In this world, only the strong survive and the weak die. That is why I will become stronger than those I hate, just so I can kill them!"

Hinata shook his head solemnly. "August 2nd, 2010. A child was born to a military couple in the middle of a war. That child grew up in a war camp, surrounded by others his age. When the war intensified, those seven-year-old children were forced onto the battlefield. By the end of it, only three from that group survived: the child, one of his friends, and his friend’s mother."

Hinata brought the sides of his clenched fists together, his gaze locking onto Tamara’s. "Now answer me. Do you really believe I don’t understand pain? If you truly do..." he said, pulling his hands apart as a purple glowing thin blade formed between them, "then show me your conviction. Show me the reason you sacrificed so many lives, even those who had nothing to do with your war."