Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 387

Chapter 387: His Own Unborn Child
In the midst of the devastation that now defined the once vibrant Highlands, Prince Victor, fueled by a surge of resolve, prepared to launch another assault on Chiron.

His steps, however, was swiftly quelled by a blast of fire from above.

*BOOM!*

The dragon, a fearsome Red core creature that far surpassed the danger of any normal red core beast, made it abundantly clear that any attempt to approach its master would be met with lethal force.

Chiron, observing Prince Victor’s thwarted ambition, couldn’t help but chuckle, a sound dripping with mockery and triumph.

With a casual wave of his hand, Chiron commanded the dragon, which descended with an imposing presence onto the ruins of the temple.

The dragon, embodying the sheer might and dominion Chiron now wielded, was a living mockery to his unparalleled power.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chiron scooped Claudia under his arm and mounted the back of the dragon, a clear sign of his readiness to depart from the scene of his victory.

Prince Victor, consumed by rage and helplessness, could only watch as the dragon, bearing Chiron and Claudia, ascended into the sky, disappearing from view.

Meanwhile, the Priestess was left in the wake of this departure, her despair for her land and her people palpable in her cries.

The loss was not merely of the Aura energy that had once defined the Highlands but of the very essence of life that had thrived there.

She knew all too well the grim fate that awaited her home: the swift dissipation of the remaining Aura energy will be followed by the invasion of Spirit energy from the rest of the continent.

This transition promised death for many, both beast and man, sparing only those capable of swift and drastic adaptation.

The fall of the Highlands marked a dark chapter, After all, it had not fallen at the hands of Prince Victor and the army of the Vandorian Empire, but by one man…. No! By one boy.

By Chiron the Armless.

In the shadow of Chiron’s ascent, the Highlands faced an uncertain future, a testament to the catastrophic potential of unchecked ambition and the dire consequences of a power unchecked by morality or compassion.

But Chiron did not consider this his business. In fact, without a doubt, if he had to do it again and eliminate all life, just for the possiblity of growing in power a little bit, then he would definitely do it.

As the dragon cut through the skies, a majestic silhouette against the canvas of dawn, its destination was clear—the Chanland Kingdom.

The journey back was swift, a matter of mere days before the creature alighted in the royal castle’s courtyard.

Chiron’s return was as clandestine as his departure; none of his servants or guards were any the wiser to his escapades in the Highlands.

The only evidence of his ventures was the dragon, now resting in the courtyard, a sight that went unnoticed by all but one.

Emma, the demon succubus, was the exception. As soon as Chiron retreated to the solitude of his inner chambers, she materialized beside him with the grace and silence of a predator.

Yet, the predatory air dissipated when she neared, replaced by an aura of anticipation. Chiron, aware of her presence, did not need to see her to acknowledge her. “So you increased in power, huh?” he inquired, the corner of his mouth upturned in a knowing smile.

Emma, embodying both beauty and danger, was scantily clad, her attire doing little to conceal her seductive nature.

“It’s been lonely without you, master,” she confessed, her voice laden with a feigned vulnerability as she clung to his leg, tears marking her cheeks.

To Chiron, her display was nothing more than a performance, one he viewed with disdain. His reaction was swift and merciless—a kick that sent her crashing against the wall.

*DAM!*

Blood trickled from her lips. Yet, even in the wake of this violence, Emma’s smile remained unbroken, her loyalty to Chiron unshaken.

“How did you know I was gone?” Chiron’s curiosity was piqued, even as he maintained his distance.

“It’s just a guess, master. Besides, I felt it when you broke through in power,” Emma replied, her smile enduring, a testament to her resilience and her attunement to Chiron’s shifts in power.

Chiron, momentarily amused by her response, turned his attention to the tasks that lay ahead.

The aftermath of his actions in the Highlands was a looming storm, one that would soon demand his presence in the Vandorian Kingdom, summoned by his grandfather.

Despite the fatigue that clung to him, a reminder of the trials he had faced, Chiron knew that rest was a luxury he could not afford—not with the winds of fate poised to challenge him once more.

After all, the saying was: There is no sleep for the Wicked. In Chiron’s case, it was literal.

Chiron’s chambers, once a lavish testament to royal grandeur under the previous king, had undergone a transformation as stark as the shift in power that had placed Chiron upon the throne.

The luxurious trappings and the king-sized bed that once adorned the room were discarded by Chiron himself, symbols of comfort and rest he deemed unworthy for a man consumed by the pursuit of power and immortality.

In their place stood an arsenal of arcane and dark implements: herbs, ritual symbols, runes, and the remains of slaughtered core beasts—all tools in Chiron’s relentless quest. Despite the room’s grim contents, it was meticulously maintained, a neatness that belied the horrific nature of its purpose.

The windows were perpetually sealed, ensuring that no prying eyes could witness the macabre experiments and rituals that took place within.

This sanctum was Chiron’s alone, accessible only to him and those bound to serve him, a space where his dark ambitions could flourish unchecked.

Emma’s entry into this forbidden domain revealed her immediate notice of Claudia, cradled unceremoniously under Chiron’s arm. Her acute senses, heightened by her succubus nature, quickly discerned the nature of Claudia’s relationship with Chiron by smell alone.

“Master, you mated this one?” she inquired, her voice tinged with surprise.

Chiron’s affirmation, coupled with his declaration of Claudia as his wife, sent a ripple of shock through Emma.

“You love her?” she asked in doubt of the question that left her own lips.

However, her inquiry into the presence of love was met with laughter from Chiron, a sound that chilled the air despite its warmth. “Yes, I do. In fact, I am about to display that love to her now,” he proclaimed, though his sinister smile painted a different picture altogether.

The order that followed was one Emma had become all too familiar with. “Prepare blood runes with your demon blood for me,” commanded Chiron, setting into motion a ritual of significant and ominous portent.

Without hesitation, Emma complied, slicing her wrist to draw forth the crimson lifeblood that would serve as the medium for the ritual. The blood flowed, vibrant against the floor, as she expertly crafted runic symbols of power and binding.

Into this arcane configuration, she placed blue cores from core beasts, each positioned with precision to harness and amplify the ritual’s potency.

As Chiron inspected the ritual site meticulously arranged by Emma, his dissatisfaction was immediate and palpable.

“This will not do!” he muttered under his breath, his critical gaze scanning the arrangement of cores.

The realization that his recent ascent in power had rendered the blue cores insufficient for his ambitions prompted a swift demand for a more potent source of energy.

But Emma informed that only one red core remained.

Chiron’s frustration was evident, yet he conceded to its use, recognizing the necessity of compromise in pursuit of his objectives.

Emma complied, placing the red core prominently at the head of the ritual ground, its presence a stark contrast to the surrounding blue cores.

The scarcity of such powerful cores weighed heavily on Chiron, tempting him with the drastic measure of harvesting the red core from his own dragon. Yet, restraint prevailed, acknowledging the dragon’s continued value to his schemes.

With the ritual circle thus prepared, Chiron turned his attention to Claudia, positioned at its center.

The act that followed was one of chilling intimacy and brutality. Stripping her of her garments, Chiron used his own blood to inscribe runes upon her skin.

Each symbol, articulated in the ancient language of runes, was an invocation of power, embedding itself into her very being. The agony of the process awakened Claudia, her screams a desperate plea for salvation from Igbi, unaware that the man she called for aid and Chiron were one and the same.

The ritual’s culmination was as horrific as it was personal. With a precision that belied the cruelty of the act, Chiron opened Claudia from chest to stomach, exposing her innermost vulnerability.

But his gaze, cold and calculating, was fixed on a singular prize—the fetus within her, his own unborn child.

This act, far beyond the bounds of morality or compassion, revealed the true extent of Chiron’s ruthlessness. His ambition, untethered by any semblance of human decency, sought to harness the potential of his own progeny in a ritual of unspeakable darkness.

Emma, witness to this tableau of unspeakable horror, remained silent, both her loyalty and fear of Chiron rendering her complicit in Chiron’s machinations….

(Author’s note: Damn boy! Your own unborn child)