Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 637

Chapter 637: The Chosen Day 10 [Test Of Lust]
Manu collapsed to his knees, the platform beneath him shuddering from the force. His body bore the aftermath of his victory against the sin of Pride—his skin scarred with deep, intricate tattoos. The mark of Pride pulsed on his chest, its form woven seamlessly into the existing runes of the aura gods that had already claimed his flesh.

Blood dripped from his knees, staining the cracked platform as he knelt, struggling for breath. Each gasp was heavy, rough, like dragging air through shattered lungs. His golden eyes dimmed for a moment, but the faint flicker of a smirk played on his lips. The victory was his, and with it, his power surged.

He had ascended. The aura of a demi-god now radiated from him, raw and unrefined but undeniable. It wrapped around him like a cloak, trembling with the magnitude of its new birth.

The demi god rank was one were an individual had faced not all, but one or two of the seven cardinal sins. The strength of the demi human was defined by the number of sins they were able to take before they decided to give up.

And the heavens delivered the judgement of sins as it saw fit.

The Sin Judgements came differently. As it saw fit to mark its prey.

But before he could steady himself, the sky shifted.

The storm clouds that had birthed the lightning parted slightly, revealing a strange, silken haze. The atmosphere grew thick, almost suffocating, but not in the same crushing way Pride had been. This was different—more insidious.

Manu’s sharp senses caught the faintest whispers at first. Sweet, melodic, and dripping with promises of something more. The haze thickened, and from it emerged shapes—vague at first, but soon crystal clear.

Figures formed from the very clouds, their bodies ephemeral yet impossibly alluring. They danced around him, moving with a grace that seemed otherworldly. Their forms were perfect, shifting and changing to match whatever could stir the deepest desires of anyone who beheld them.

“Manu Madayaki,” they purred, their voices intertwining into a symphony of seduction. “You’ve fought so hard, endured so much. Why suffer anymore? Come… rest with us. Enjoy the pleasures you deserve.”

Manu’s breathing hitched as the figures circled closer. Their eyes glimmered like jewels, their smiles intoxicating. The air around him grew warmer, almost stifling, as the scent of something sweet and forbidden filled his nostrils.

One figure, a woman whose beauty seemed carved by the gods themselves, leaned close. Her hand, made of swirling mist, traced his scarred face. “We can give you everything,” she whispered, her voice soft as silk. “Every desire, every touch, every pleasure you’ve ever craved.”

Another figure, a man with a physique sculpted from perfection, smirked as he leaned on Manu’s other side. “What is power without joy? What is strength without indulgence? Stay here… feel. Let us show you what it means to truly live.”

Manu’s body betrayed him. His pulse quickened, and for a brief moment, he felt his resolve falter.

The figures weren’t just speaking to him—they were reaching into his mind, pulling forth buried desires, the deepest hungers he had long since buried under ambition and rage.

The sin of Lust wasn’t brute force like Pride. It was subtle, persuasive, irresistible.

The figures began to dance, their movements hypnotic, their forms blending into the clouds only to reform again in ever more alluring shapes. The platform beneath Manu softened as though inviting him to lie down, to succumb.

His golden eyes flickered as he clenched his fists. “I don’t need this,” he hissed, though his voice trembled.

“But you do,” the figures cooed, pressing closer. “Why deny yourself what you’ve earned? Why fight when pleasure is waiting? Stay, Manu. Stay with us.”

Their voices wrapped around his mind like chains, soft and unyielding. For a moment, he swayed, the weight of his exhaustion mingling with the siren call of their promises.

But then his smirk returned, sharp and dangerous. He lifted his head, his voice cutting through the haze. “You think this is enough to stop me? I suffered for ten thousand years in cardinal forbidden zone of lust. You don’t know who I am.”

The figures faltered, their perfect faces twisting slightly, just for a moment.

“I am Manu Madayaki,” he snarled, his voice rising. “I don’t kneel to desire. I don’t crave. I take. And you think I’d trade power for this? Pathetic.”

The figures hissed, their allure fading momentarily as his words lashed at them. But they didn’t retreat. Instead, their whispers grew louder, more desperate, their movements more frantic. The very air seemed to pulse with their desire to make him fall.

Manu’s smirk widened as he pushed himself to his feet, his knees still bleeding but his stance unshaken. “If this is the best you’ve got, you might as well crawl back to the heavens and tell them I’m not interested.”

The figures screamed, their perfect forms shattering momentarily before reforming, more intense, more determined.

The clouds around them grew darker, swirling violently as Lust prepared to strike in full force.

The cloud of Lust swirled violently around Manu before surging forward, slipping into his nostrils and flooding his body through every pore.

The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. His veins bulged, standing taut against his skin like twisted roots, pulsating with the invading energy. His body trembled uncontrollably as the intoxicating force of Lust worked its way deeper, wrapping around his mind and threatening to consume him from within.

Manu gritted his teeth, his golden eyes flickering as they fought to stay open. His pride roared within him, battling the invasive presence, but even he could feel the strain. Every muscle in his body screamed as Lust tried to root itself in his essence.

But in that moment of distraction, Dylan struck.

With precision honed by vengeance, Dylan propelled himself through the air, somersaulting above Manu with a grace that defied his mechanical limbs. His movements were fluid, his eyes burning with determination. The sword from the Beast Nation shimmered in his grip, its edge gleaming with deadly intent.

As Manu’s body shuddered under Lust’s influence, Dylan seized his opening. In a swift, brutal motion, he plunged the blade into Manu’s abdomen, driving it deep.

The sound of metal piercing flesh was sickening, echoing across the platform. Blood spurted from the wound, staining the gleaming runes below. The strike was true, and the blade lodged itself firmly, its energy flaring as if it, too, sought vengeance against the man who had wronged so many….