Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 561

Chapter 561: Entering The Second Zone as A Team
On arrival, this person immediately caught everyone’s attention. He was entirely made of flowing blood, his form shifting and roiling like a living river of crimson.

The sight was both mesmerizing and horrifying, drawing the eyes of everyone on the battlefield.

As he stepped into the warzone, the battlefield seemed to fall silent, all eyes fixated on this strange and menacing figure. The first thing he did was to request Chiron, announcing loudly that he was here to test the so-called future demon king.

His voice was a deep, resonant echo, filling the space with an eerie presence.

“I am a commander of the Dark Legion,” he proclaimed, his words carrying a weight that sent shivers down the spines of all who heard. “I have come a long distance as a mere dragonfly from the Nether Realm to examine the one called Chiron.”

The Orcs, who had been locked in fierce battle, turned their attention to this new threat. One of the warriors, a massive brute with a scarred face, roared and charged at the blood figure, swinging his axe with deadly intent.

But as soon as the axe made contact, the blood figure simply absorbed the blow, the weapon passing through him as if he were water. With a swift movement, he touched the Orc, and the warrior was instantly reduced to a bloody paste, his life essence absorbed into the figure’s body.

The sight of one of their own being so easily dispatched enraged the Orcs.

Kin-oriented by nature, they attacked en masse, a wave of fury and muscle intent on avenging their fallen comrade. But it was no use.

Each Orc that reached the blood figure met the same fate, turned into a crimson smear that was quickly absorbed, adding to the figure’s mass and power.

Even the Orc chiefs, formidable warriors in their own right, were no match. The blood figure pushed them back with ease, his form growing more imposing with each absorbed foe. His power seemed limitless, a terrifying force that defied the very laws of nature.

With a wave of his hand, the blood figure summoned beasts from the fog. These creatures were abominable, twisted forms that seemed to be part nightmare and part reality.

There were massive, ever-growing dried trees that moved with a sinister intent, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to ensnare anything in their path. Monsters made of blood and undead rose from the ground, their hollow eyes glowing with a malevolent light.

The beasts of the fog were terrifying in their own right. Some creatures, resembling a giant wolf but with a body composed of swirling mist and shadow, prowled the battlefield with silent, deadly grace. Another was a massive, amorphous blob, its surface rippling with the faces of the damned, whispering and wailing as it moved.

The undead were equally horrifying. Orc and Human dead warriors of blood clad in rusted armor, their eyes burning with an unholy hue, marched forward in unison. Zombies, their flesh rotting and falling away, lurched towards the living with a hunger that could never be sated.

The battlefield was transformed into a scene from a nightmare. The Orcs, brave and fierce as they were, found themselves overwhelmed by this onslaught. The blood figure commanded his minions with ruthless efficiency, each wave of his hand bringing more horror to life.

Through it all, the blood figure remained calm and composed, his focus unwavering. He was here for one purpose: to test Chiron.

And he would let nothing stand in his way. The battlefield was his canvas, and he painted it with the blood of his enemies, each stroke evidence to his power and the dark forces he commanded.

The orcs that had been fighting against each other only moments ago had no choice but to team up against the blood figure.

According to the orc commander, this had been going on for two days. Since the blood figure’s arrival, they had been locked in a relentless battle against the commander of the Dark Legion. The clan chiefs, recognizing the gravity of the situation, had organized a roster to divide the labor. One group would fight while the other rested and engaged in their primal rites of fornicating, necessary for them to survive the oppressive fog of unbounded demise.

As the orc commander recounted the events, her frustration was evident. She spat to the side, her eyes narrowing in anger. “If I had known Chiron was going to be this much trouble, I would have gotten rid of him myself,” she growled, her voice filled with bitter regret.

The orcs were not the only ones to be in a bind because of Chiron’s. These group of humans, led by Dylan, Deamon, and Black Arrow, had also arrived with a purpose: to retrieve their prince, the one they believed would save them from the tyranny of King Victor.

The orc commander eyed the newcomers with suspicion and disdain. She had little trust for outsiders, especially humans, but the presence of a common enemy forced an uneasy alliance.

After all, even they knew that they could not keep this up forever. The orcs needed help. This much was true.

Dylan pulled down the hood of his coat, revealing a determined expression. He glanced at his friend Deamon, who nodded in silent agreement. They knew the risks of entering the fog of unbounded demise.

Meanwhile, back on the battlefield, the blood figure continued to wreak havoc from upon a chair it sat on, that had once used to be a hundred alive orcs, but now, meshed up to form a temporary throne.

“I don’t know why the demonic mother is overreacting because she can’t find, one useless human. Meanwhile, all I did was to ask around within the Vandorian kingdom and was immediately directed into this place.” The Blooded figure, Cicada thought to himself.

The orcs fought valiantly, but their strength was ever waning. The roster system allowed them some respite, but the relentless assaults from the blood figure and his summoned beasts would continually leave little room for recovery.

The humans’ arrival at the time that they did had not gone unnoticed. The blood figure, Cicada from his high throne of corpse had turned his attention to them, his crimson form pulsing with anticipation.

He knew that the humans sought Chiron, just as he did. After all, in the outside, world, he had gathered information stating that Chiron was a beloved prince and the Vandorain nation was in trouble.

But he had intentionally allowed them to escape with the other orcs.

He believed that if the Orcs were not going to be enough then he did not mind using the humans to get Chiron to him.

At such a time, the female orc chief, temporarily satisfied from the pleasure given to her by Hunter, turned to the humans with a calculating gaze. “I’ll make you a deal. It’s a simple one. After all, your number has already dropped significantly. I’ll allow ten of you to go search for your human prince, but the rest must remain behind and help with our war efforts and service my women.” She pointed to the warrior female orcs, who eyed the humans with a mixture of interest and disdain.

Deamon frowned at her suggestion, wanting to argue, but then he remembered the overwhelming spiritual pressure that had emanated from this orc chief before. It had been a palpable force, one that had made even the most fearless warriors tremble. Recognizing that they couldn’t challenge her power, he nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly. “But we will be taking our best.”

The female orc chief chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that echoed through the fog. “I’ll advise that you do, because in truth, those that will remain here have a better chance of survival than inside the second Zone!”

Dylan and Deamon quickly conferred with their comrades, selecting the ten best warriors for the mission.

These were the ones who had proven themselves time and again in the heat of battle as rebels, the ones who had the best chance of navigating the treacherous terrain of the second Zone and returning with Chiron.

Surprisingly, Among those chosen, Black Arrow, renowned for her unmatched skill with a bow, was not picked.

Deamon stated that their people here needed a good leader in case of emergency. Each of the ten warriors was a master of their craft, and they all carried a grim determination in their eyes. They knew the risks, but they also knew what was at stake.

The remaining humans, though disappointed, understood the necessity of the decision. They steeled themselves for the battles ahead, knowing they would have to fight alongside the orcs against the commander of the Dark Legion. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but survival demanded sacrifices.

As the ten chosen warriors prepared to enter the second Zone, the female orc chief addressed them one last time. “Remember, the fog of unbounded demise is not your only enemy. The creatures within are far more dangerous. Stay vigilant, and perhaps by some miracle you’ll return with your… prince.”

With those ominous words ringing in their ears, the ten warriors were led to the second zone by the commander orc. And as they stepped into the fog, their forms quickly swallowed by its oppressive thickness. The rest of the humans stayed behind, their hearts heavy with concern for their comrades but resolved to fight on.

In the eerie silence that followed, the female orc chief turned back to her warriors. “Prepare yourselves,” she commanded. “The real battle is just beginning.”