Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 643

Chapter 643: A Terrible Opponent
>>Alert: Host Defend Against Fate<<

>>Alert: Hosts Danger Rank has been temporarily increased, congratulations.<<

>>Now Host, Defend Against Fate’s Arbitrator<<

They were a lot of Alerts and Chiron paid no mind to them, but this one, he took note of.

Apparently his rise to power, using Manu, gold rank cultivators, demi gods and millions of lives had annoyed the heavens.

The Seer’s sharp eyes caught the subtle flow of energy in the chaos. Chiron had been cleverly using the Wrath Tribulation as a veil, hiding beneath its divine rage to execute his plans.

Her gaze narrowed as she raised her hand, fingers crackling with the latent power of her gift, “Threads of Fate’s Gaze.”

The moment she activated her ability, the very fabric of existence seemed to ripple. The air around her bent and twisted as though her power was unraveling the heavens themselves. With a single motion, she sent a blast of raw, unyielding force toward the Wrath Tribulation. The mighty surge of energy ripped apart a significant portion of the divine lightning, clearing away its cover and exposing Chiron in its wake.

“Fuck!” Chiron cursed.

The sky above rumbled ominously, wrathful tendrils of lightning spiraling back together to reform, but the damage had been done. Chiron stood vulnerable, his form illuminated in the raw light of the heavens.

Despite this sudden turn, Chiron’s expression remained calm. “Not bad,” he muttered under his breath, though his mind churned with strategy. He recognized the danger immediately. The Seer wasn’t just powerful—she was a force to be reckoned with.

Her casual attack had obliterated part of the Heaven’s Tribulation itself, a feat so extraordinary it sent a shiver down even Chiron’s spine.

“This isn’t someone I can afford to fight recklessly,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he gritted his teeth.

The Seer was one that even the Demon mother would give her all to battle. Chiron, even with all the power he had now, was nothing compared to her.

This woman’s body literally oozed danger and it pricked heavily on his senses.

Without hesitation, he slammed his hands onto the platform once more. This time, there was no energy to draw from—it had already been drained to fuel his servants’ transformations. Instead, Chiron called upon something darker, colder, and far more dangerous.

From deep within his Aura Dantian, the Essence of Death stirred, ancient and malevolent. A biting chill filled the air as he let out a guttural scream, his voice reverberating across the battlefield.

“Come to me!”

The death aura erupted from his form, an all-consuming shadow spreading across the platform. From the cracks in the altar, spectral figures began to rise. These were no ordinary ghosts—they were the tortured souls of the millions sacrificed to build this altar, and those that had died all around the vicinity since the start of this ritual.

Their hollow wails filled the air, an orchestra of despair and rage as they swarmed around Chiron.

The deathly energy spiraled into a massive wave of ghostly apparitions behind him, forming an ominous storm of writhing, wailing figures. Their faces twisted in anguish, clawing at the air as though desperate for release.

Chiron raised his hand, directing the torrent of undead energy forward.

“Feast on their souls!” he bellowed, his voice cold and unyielding. The wave surged toward the Seer and her allies, a spectral tsunami of raw malevolence.

“Death’s Symphony!” he declared, naming the technique.

The Seer’s forces acted quickly. Many summoned treasures of immense power, shields and barriers that gleamed with light, while others unleashed their own techniques to combat the overwhelming tide of death. Explosions of light and energy erupted as the spectral wave collided with their defenses.

But Chiron wasn’t finished. His lips twisted into a sinister smirk. “You think that’s all I have?” he sneered.

Slamming his hands to the ground again, Chiron invoked another power. This time, the platform trembled under the strain.

“World End!”

This was a devastating technique, one that required the complete exhaustion of a single dantian’s energy. This was not the first time he was using it.

Back when he was escaping from knight sheyi into the fog ov unbounded demise, he had used this exact technique.

He had also used it when in the fog against the orc

Chiron chose his Aura Dantian without hesitation, pouring every ounce of his newfound demi-god-level aura power into the attack. Aura was strongest in the midst of the dead. With addition of the world End, even after this battle, this ground will no longer be habitable for people only evil beasts.

The tidal wave of death surged again, swelling a hundredfold. The wails grew deafening, the spectral figures multiplying as they merged into a singular, massive form—a towering colossus of ghostly energy. Its eyes burned with hatred as it raised an enormous, clawed hand to strike.

Chiron’s teeth clenched as the strain of the technique bore down on him. The energy coursing through his body felt like molten fire, threatening to tear him apart.

“Let’s see you survive this!” he growled through gritted teeth, his voice like thunder.

The colossal wave of death fell upon the battlefield, its sheer magnitude shaking the heavens themselves.

For a moment, it seemed as though the world itself would break under the weight of Chiron’s attack.

The other demi-gods braced themselves as the colossal wave of death surged toward them, the very air trembling with its destructive force.

Some raised their weapons, glowing with divine energy, while others formed defensive formations, their auras flaring brightly. Yet, even with their combined strength, a palpable fear lingered in the air.

However, the Seer stood unmoved, a faint smile playing on her lips. Without a hint of urgency, she reached into her robes and drew out a slender, ornate flute. The instrument glimmered faintly in the chaotic light of the battlefield, its polished surface etched with ancient symbols of unknown origin.

Raising it to her lips, the Seer blew a single, haunting note.

The sound was ethereal, resonating with a strange harmony that seemed to pierce through the chaos. The deafening wails of the spectral colossus faltered, and then, as if caught in an invisible net, the entire tidal wave of death energy froze in place.

The demi-gods and gold-ranked cultivators stared in astonishment as the wave, which had seemed unstoppable, began to shimmer and dissolve. The dark, ghostly energy transformed into delicate golden flowers that scattered into the wind, each petal disappearing into nothingness.

The battlefield fell eerily silent for a moment.

The Seer lowered her flute and smirked, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “Power stolen from the dead will always return to the void,” she said coldly, her voice cutting through the stillness like a blade.

But as her eyes scanned the platform, her smirk faded slightly. Chiron was no longer there.

The altar, once teeming with his dark energy, now stood empty, save for the remnants of his blood-streaked handprints.

The Seer’s gaze hardened as she muttered to herself, “You can run, Chiron, but you can’t escape Fate’s thread….”