Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 635

Chapter 635: The Chosen Day 8[Broken Dylan]
Manu froze at the sound of the voice—a loud, piercing scream that cut through the still-charged air.

“Manu Madayaki! I am here for your head!”

Manu’s brow arched in mild surprise, his lips curling into a smirk as he turned toward the voice. Surely, no one could still be foolish enough to challenge him after the power he had just unleashed. A demi-god, perhaps? Someone desperate enough to think they could succeed where others had failed?

Such foolishness, he thought with amusement, would be a welcome diversion.

But as his golden eyes locked onto the source of the voice, the amusement in his expression faded, replaced by something more akin to interest—maybe even mild concern. It wasn’t a demi-god standing there.

It was a mortal.

Dylan.

The sight of him brought a flicker of recognition, followed immediately by disbelief.

This was no ordinary mortal, no mere remnant of the man Manu had once maimed and left for dead that day he left the cardinal forbidden zone.

Dylan stood tall, his short black hair whipping in the harsh wind that howled around the platform. His eyes burned with unrelenting vengeance, dark pools of fury that seemed to promise destruction.

His body was a testament to his suffering—and his resilience. Where once he had flesh and bone, now gleamed metallic limbs, unnatural extensions of his will.

The arms and legs were forged of an alloy that caught the faint light of the storm-ridden sky, their surfaces engraved with glowing runes that pulsed softly in rhythm with his movements.

The runes exuded an eternal, ominous light, a low hum of energy that seemed to challenge even the power emanating from the pillar itself.

Scars marred Dylan’s torso and neck, each one a brutal reminder of the pain Manu had inflicted. Where the metallic limbs met his skin, the flesh was twisted and gnarled, evidence of the violent transformation he had undergone. The jagged scars formed grotesque patterns around the joints, but they only seemed to add to his menacing appearance.

Manu’s gaze flicked to Dylan’s hands—if they could be called hands. The sharp, claw-like extensions on his fingers glimmered in the light, and faint wisps of energy danced between them. Dylan stood like a nightmare made flesh, the very image of vengeance given form.

Manu chuckled, though there was an edge to it now, a hint of caution hidden beneath his arrogance.

After all, he had seen Chiron’s memories of this world, and Dylan’s fate had been one of those that had be shrouded from him.

Besides, back then, when he took over Chiron’s body, he had made a deal with chiron, his gift for chiron lastling as long as he did after he had cheated in their bet.

He was to leave Dylan alive.

Of course this statement had been relative, and while he outrightly killed Deamon, he only cut off Dylan’s limbs.

As far as he was concerned, it meant that he had left him alive.

Back then, Manu had thought to himself that it was not possible that Dylan would survive such fatal wounds.

However, he had failed to account for the precious land spirit. There was also the fact that Dylan had a very special kind of Dantain.

The greater the pain, the greater the growth, and Dylan had just suffered back to back pain, emotionally, physically and of course, mentally.

With the extra supplements from the precious land spirit to aid him, he had well risen into the beginning of the silver ranks. But his limbs could hurt a gold rank. One look at them and one could tell that a lot of treasures had been used to make them.

The precious land spirit had obviously given it her all just to defeat Manu.

Meanwhile, within Manu’s mind, Chiron, imprisoned by snakes raised his head, his tired eyes had a hit of a smile as he gazed directly at Dylan, “…the prodigal son finally returns….fate is indeed a bitch.”

However, his words did not reach Manu’s ear as he was too preoccupied with the euphoria of ascending in power, and defying the heavens. If not, he would have been very worried.

After all, there was no such a human more conniving he had met than Chiron in all his thousands of years.

“Well, well,” Manu drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “The little insect I swatted has come back with new toys. I must admit, you’ve managed to surprise me, Dylan. Though I can’t say I’m impressed.”

Dylan didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on Manu, unwavering, his expression devoid of fear. The wind howled louder, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Manu took a step forward, his smirk returning. “You look menacing enough, I’ll give you that. But I wonder… are those shiny new limbs enough to stop me now? You should have stayed dead, Dylan. It would have been kinder.”

Dylan finally spoke, his voice low and cold, each word carrying the weight of his hatred. “I’ve been through hell because of you, Manu. But you made one mistake.”

Manu tilted his head, amused. “Oh? And what mistake was that?”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed, the glow of the runes on his limbs intensifying. “You let me live.”

The platform trembled under Dylan’s sudden surge of energy, the metallic runes flaring brighter as the ground beneath him cracked. Manu’s smirk faltered ever so slightly, his sharp senses catching the dangerous promise in Dylan’s transformation.

Manu’s grin widened, his arrogance masking the growing tension in the air. “Let me guess, you’ve come for revenge?” he sneered. “How quaint. Let’s see if your will is strong enough to match your fury, mortal.”

Dylan’s gaze remained fixed on Manu, cold and unyielding, as he suddenly raised his metallic hands. With a fluid motion, his arms shifted, the transformation smooth yet unnervingly unnatural.

From his right arm extended a blade—a magnificent longsword forged of gleaming silver, its edge sharp enough to split the wind. The weapon pulsed with an aura of primal energy, its surface etched with intricate patterns resembling the claws of beasts. Manu’s sharp eyes narrowed as he recognized its origin. This was no ordinary sword; it was a gift from the Beast Nation, crafted with the essence of the tooth of a magical core beast.

It was the sword that made people vomit their raw insides till death when wounded.

But it was the second blade that truly caught Manu’s attention. Dylan’s left arm morphed into a shorter sword, more like a broad dagger, but its appearance was far more sinister. The blade glowed with an eerie red light, faint tendrils of energy curling off its surface like living flames. Manu’s expression darkened as his senses recoiled from it.

The energy emanating from that blade was all too familiar.

His essence.

Manu frowned deeply, his golden eyes narrowing to slits. He studied the weapon intently, and a slow, simmering anger began to replace the amusement he had worn just moments ago.

“You…” Manu growled, his voice low and venomous. “Where did you get that?”

Dylan didn’t respond. Instead, he raised both blades, their opposing energies—primal and corrupted—clashing in the stormy air around him. His silence was more threatening than any words, a statement of pure defiance.

Manu did not believe Dylan an opponent worthy of fighting him, but that second sword carried something dreadful.

(Author’s note: like I promised, mass release. Also, can you feel the plan coming together?…. wait for it people. It gets hotter)